GOLD AND SILVER PRIZE PUAZLE.

Entered According lo Act of Congress, in the Year 1894, by Street
Entered as Second-ciass Matter at the New York,

STREET
31 Rose

& SMITH,

Street,

THE BOY FROM

Publishera.
New York.

THE WEST: |

OR;

THE STRUGGLE

FOR THE

WHITE HORSE MINE.

BY

CHAPTER TI.
MISPLACED CONFIDENCE.

.00K ouz
/ This ie cry was
closely by the shrill
whistle of the New York Express.

“Stop that horse!”

“They'll be killed!”

Although these horrified exclamations
broke from the lips of the spectators on
the station platform, not cone of the
speakers possessed the courage or pres-
ence of mind to check the animal that
was whirling two human beings toward
a sudden and violent death.

3 at Burnhara Junction unless flagged,
t

followed |
warning | ting on a bench at the end

HARRY DANGERFIELD.

cing seven minutes behind time, it was
rushing through the village at a speed
that raised a cloud of whirling dust at
each crossing.

An odd looking boy who. had been sit-
of the depot,
apparently half-asleep, arose to his feet
with the first cry. On the opposite side
of the railroad he
madly down the sloping road toward the
crossing, dragging a light carriage, in
which were seated two white-faced per-
sons.

It seemed that the carriage would reach
the crossing one second ‘before tle train,
in which case it would be dashed to

The mid-afternoon express did not stop | pieces by the engine,

 

 

 

 

THE

MARE WAS STOPPED WITH A SUDDEN

 

& Smith, in the Onice of the Librarian of Congress,

| horse
| astonishing display of strength and skill,

and, |}

saw. a horse dashing |

N.Y... Post- Office.

Not a sound came from the boy’s lips,
sut he ran forward at a loping gait that
seemed dreadfully slow, but was

front of the express.
He was. barely in time
by the bit, and

to grasp
then came a most

for he stopped the animal within a space
less than twelve feet.

As it was, he had not another
spare, for, as he set the creature
its haunches and whirled it aside,
first car of
shoulder and he was enveloped ina whirl-
wind of dust and sand.

With a grip of iron, the
held the horse steady until

foot to

lad

car

strange
the last

SEE THIS NUMBER.

Washingion, D. C.

rice,

per Year.

| lashed along, and then, when the danger

really |
| very deceptive, and crossed the track in

| of cars t
the |
| age,

was past, he calmly drawled:
“Wa-al, of all the fool tricks I ever
saw, this yar trving torun over a train
akes the lead.”
The driver of the horse,
rather a rough-looking

a man of middle
fellow,

| bridled instantly, although his voice was

back on |
the |
the flying train brushed his

| who was a boy a year or two

a trifle unsteady, as he hotly retorted :
“You’re a smart younker, you be! You
came nigh gettin’ us all killed! If you'd
let the hoss alone, we’d got over the
crossin’ ahead of the train, an’——”
“That will do, sir,’ cuttingly
|rupted the person by the driver's
older
who had stopped the horse, *

inter-
side,
than

You

the one

| have been drinking, and we both escaped

 

 

BEWILDERED,

THAT HURLED HER FORWARD ON HER NOSE, AND WALTER STARK LANDED HEAVILY IN THE ROAD,
DAZED, ASTOUNDED.

 
3425

GooD

NEWS.

 

 

death by a miracle. You have failed to
get me here in time to catch the express,
and this ends my dealings with you,”

Having said this, the boy, who was
dressed something like a dandy, and car-
ried a stout cane, jumped from the
carriage to the ground,

He was a stout, well-built lad, with
dark eyes and hair, a proud face, and
haughty bearing. There were costly rings
on his fingers, a diamond-pin in his
cravat, and a heavy gold chain strung
across his vest. A character-reader would
have said he possessed a very passionate
disposition, having a flashy temper that
was not readily curbed.

The driver’s face, that had been pale a
short time before, now flushed with
anger.

“You agreed to give me ten dollars——’

“Tf you got me here in time to catch
the express,” broke in the boy of the dark
eyes. “You failed.”

“Well, I s’pose you’ll pay the reg’ler
price for the team?”

“Then you make a big mistake. No
such a bargain was made, You won’t get

a cent.”
“T’ll collect it of yer dad. He’s rich

? ”

“Get it—if you can. That’s all.”

And then the speaker turned to the lad
who had saved him from being killed,
saying rather stiffly:

“T have to thank you for what you did,
and—-—”

“That yar’s all right, partner,” was the
off-hand retort. “I didn’t like to see you
walked over by the cars, and so I took a
hand. I don’t ask any thanks for a little
thing like that,”

“A little thing! You do not seem to
realize what you have done. Come over
to the station. As I mussed the express,
I’ll have to take the mixed train back to
Somerset Falls.”

“That’s the trail I’m bound over.”

The two boys crossed the track, paying
no attention to the crowd that was
gathering about them, or to the driver of
the carriage, who was giving vent to
some very violent language.

The boy who had stopped the horse pre-
sented a great contrast to the oné he had
saved, for he was dressed in the very plain-
est of clothes, wearing long-legged boots,
into the tops of which his pantalo8us were
carelessly thrust. He wore a woolen
shirt, with a wide collar, beneath which

a tie was knotted, but had on neither.

coat nor vest. About his waist was a
heavy leather belt, from which a_ coiled
horse-hair lasso hung at’ one side; and
there were holsters for revolvers on either
hip, although they were empty now. On
his head was a wide-brimmed Stinson
sombrero, the band being thrust full of
cartridges. .

In fact, he was dressed like a cowboy
from the West, and he had the air of a
cowboy. Not the fancy cowboy who gets
himself up in flashy attire and poses in
a museum for twelve dollars a week, but
the genuine unpretending article, such
as may be found on the great cattle
ranches of Kansas or Texas.

He was a trifle heavy and awkward in
his manner, seeming rather ill at ease in
the presence of the dandified youth he
had saved from a frightful disaster.

The mixed train for Somerset Falls,
which had been standing on a siding,
now backed in on the main track, as was
the usual custom as soon as the express
had passed.

Somerset Falls was located ten miles
away, at the termination of a branch
road that was being built through to
Clareford, a promising manufacturing
town. The road had been completed as
far as Somerset Falls the previous year,
but an unfortunate legal complication
had stopped it there, although the Falls
was no more than a village of six or
eight houses, being absolutely of no im-
portance save as the nearest railway
station to Clareford.

The boys made haste to get inside the
one passenger car as soon as possible, so
they could escape from the staring eyes
of the country people who had witnessed
the exciting incident described earlier in
this chapter. '

Much to. their relief, the train was all
“made up,” and it soon started. There
were only five passengers besides them-
selves,

“TI take it you are from the West?” ob-
served the lad of the dark hair and eyes,
after they had chatted until. they became
fairly well acquainted. ‘

“Hit it plumb center first shot,” re-
turned the other, with unassumed hearti-
ness, “I reckon I must look to the people
round these yar parts about as a tender-
foot looks to us when he shows up out
West for the first time.”

“ Where are you from?”

“Kansas.”

“Come East for pleasure?”

“No; business.” :

“It can’t be possible you are going to
Somerset Falls on business?”

“Wa-al,” smiled the boy from the West,
“I don't expect to hang round that yar

place long. I’m going on to Lake Ken-
shaw.”

The lad with the dark eyes started.

“T came through from Lake Kenshaw
to-day,” he asserted. “Missed the train
at Somerset Falls, and agreed to pay ten
dollars to catch the express. You know
how I lost it, and, as there is not another
New York passenger until
am going back to the lake.”

thar. I say, know a man by the name of
Cyrus Stark, who is up that way fishing?”
Again the city lad started slightly.
“Stark—Cyrus Stark?” he repeated.
“Seems to me I know of the gentleman.”
The boy from the West straightened up
stiffly.
“Maybe he’s the kind what you call
gentleman here in the Hast,” he said; “but
out West we’d call him an onery swin-

confidence, “that yar man swindled my
mother out of a fortune! Gentleman!
Wa-al, if he ts, I don’t admire the
breed.”

The face of the listening lad flushed,
and he bit his lip, but he managed to
speak with assumed calmness,

“Swindled your mother? How?”

“Wa-al, you see, this Stark and my
father were partners in some ventures be-
fore father died.
White Horse Mine, but he didn’t work
the rifle. When father was killed by a
blast as he was goin’ through the mine
one day, Stark came up with papers that
seemed to prove his right to the prop-
erty. I don’t know much about law, but
there was a suit, and he beat mother out
of her eye teeth, I reckon lawyers, judge,
and jury were well paid for their deci-
sion. Anyhow, I know the whole _ busi-
ness was crooked, or my name isn’t Bart
Stone.”

“Seems to me I have heard of this
White Horse Mine,” muttered the listen-
ing boy. “It proved a failure, didn’t it?”

“The lead was lost.”

“Something like that.”

“Yep. They abandoned the mine—it’s
been deserted for near two years. Say,
can I trust you?”

“What a question! Of course.”

“Wa-al, I went through that yar mine
less than four weeks ago, and what do
you think I found, pard?”

“ive it up.”

“T found the lost lead. ‘That’s what
brings me on here, Mother raised five
thousand dollars, and sent me to see if I
cau buy the stock of Cyrus Stark. He
holds it all, and it’s said he’d bé glad to
take any price forit. If I can get it back,
I’ll feel as if I was pretty near squar’
with him—and I reckon, if the whole
black truth was known, you’dsee I have
more reasons than [have told you yet for
wanting to get squar’.”

“And that’s why you are going to Lake
Kenshaw ?” :

Yep. I want to get at Mr. Stark be-
fore he hears anything about the lead
being found again.”

At this moment, a brakeman thrust his
head in at the car door, calling:

“Somerset Falls—Somerset,”

The city boy arose to his feet, a sar-
castic smile on his face, observing:

“My dear Mr. Stone, you are altogether
too new for this part of the country. As
long as you have told me all this without
asking my name, I advise you to go back
to your Kansas home and give over all
hope of purchasing the stock of the
White Horse Mine. It will save you a
great deal of useless trouble.”

“Your name!” gasped the astonished
boy from the West. “ Whatis your name?”

As the train came to a stop, the other
replied: f

“It is Walter St,
Cyrus Stark is my father.

Omer Stark—and

”

CHAPTER II,
THE RACE FOR THE MINE,

Bart Stone faintly muttered the
words, staring at his late compan-
‘> ion, who was deliberately walking
from the car.
“What a big fool a big fool is! I’ve
been and blowed the whole thing to him,

oe sine 1"

and he’s Stark’s son! That dishes me!”
However, he was not the boy to give up
so easily, and he leaped to his feet, ery-

ing:

“Stop! Hold on! I want to talk with
you a bit, partner !”

Instead of heeding the call, Walter St,
Omer Stark quickened his steps and left
the car.

Bart had started to his feet, and he
now hurried after the other boy. He
reached the platform just in time to see
Walter Stark disappear on the run
around a corner of the small depot.

“Running like a coyote! Here’s after
him! He’s got to be mighty lively on the
hoof to get away from me.”

‘the young cowboy dashed forward in
‘the loping way peculiar to him when he
iran, covering the ground in a surprising
manner, for all of his heavy boots,

 

midnight, 1 |

“Then we can hang together till we get |

dler, Look here!” with a sudden burst of |
i | to heara red-headed man, who was stand-

Stark tried to buy the}
}co, “I dunno,

 

As he came around the corner of the
station, he saw Walter Stark running
swiftly and gracefully down the street.
Walter turned his head, and Bart fancied
there was a defiant, triumphant smile on
his haughty face.

“He thinks I don’t know split-hoofs
from whole—and he’s just about right.
All the same, he'll have to hurry right
along, now I’ve got my peepers opened a
bit. It’s win or lose, and { an‘t hyar for
my health,”

The boy from the West knew well
enough that his late companion was run-
ning for the nearest place to obtain a
horse, and so he followed.

Walter was a remarkably swift runner,
and yet the pursuing lad, for all of his
loping gait, managed to hold his own,
He saw the rich man’s son turn in at-the
first house he reached. When Bart came
up, running easily, he was just in time

ing in the open stable door, saying:

“No, Bill an’t back from Burnham yit.
Thought you was goin’ to New York.
How’d you git back so soon?”

“Missed the express at Burnham, and
came back on the afternoon mixed. Must;
have a horse to get to the lake. Where
can I find one?”

“Waull,” mumbled the old fellow, delib-
erately gnawing at a plug of black tobac-
It’s putty certun ye can’t
git a hoss around here onless Steve Jones
will let his.”

“Where does Steve Jones live?”

“Third house down the next block.
You'll find—— Wull, Isnum!”

This concluding exclamation was caused
by the astonishing swiftness with which
Walter Stark turned and dashed away,

Bart had overheard all this, but he was
not quite so swift in his movements as
the other boy, and, as a result, Stark
darted past him.

“Hyar! Hold on! Waz-al, go it!
comin’, and I can hoof it a bit!”

Only one chance of getting a horse!
The boy who reached Steve Jones’ first
would succeed, and the other lad would
be left. E

“Got to do it, so here goes!”

Bart ground the words through his
teeth, as he settled down to run for all
he was worth.

Walter Stark was famousas an amateur
sprinter, and his astonishment can be
imagined when he found the slow-going
cowboy, encumbered as he was with heavy
boots, forging along by his side and
threatening to pass him.

“What are you running for, you fool?”
he snapped, turning his dark eyes—now
flashing with anger—on the boy from the
West.

“Oh, just for fun!” was the drawled
reply. “I may be a fool, but thar’s bigger
ones to be corraled any day. You an’t
seen me woke up yet, partner; I’m
worse’n & long-horn on the rampage,”

“Do you expect to get ahead of me?”

“Wa-al, I expect to try mighty hard,
T’ll bet a good hawse I do——”

“T’li take the bet!”

Whack! With a swift and unexpected
movement, Walter Stark lifted the heavy
cane ‘he had clung to all this time and
brought it, down on Bart’s head, using
all the strength of his muscular arm.

It was a fortunate thing for Bart Stone
that he wore a heavy felt hat on his
head, for had it been otherwise, the cane
might have fractured his skull. As it
was, the blow dropped him face down-
ward in the dust, where he lay quite
still, making no move to get up.

When Walter saw the result of his
savage blow, his face paled, and he _ half-
halted, gasping: ‘

“T hope I didn’t kill the fellow! That
would be awful! No, he stirs—he’s all
right!”

Then the rich man’s son hurried on-
ward again, leaving the victim of his
dastardly blow still stretched in the dust
of the road.

How long Bart lay there he could not
tell, but he finally Sprned his eyes, sat
up and looked around, somewhat dazed.

“Was I kicked by a mule? or what was
it happened?” he muttered, staring at
the unfamiliar scenes of the quiet country
about him. “My head feels like thar was
a stampede of split-hoofs inside it. Whar
am I, anyway?”

It took. him some moments to collect
his scattered wits, but he finally remem-
bered all that had happened,

“Wonder how long I’ve laid hyar on
the trail?” he mumbled, as he arose to his
feet, gathering up his lasso, which haa
become detached from where it was sus-
pended at his waist. “Maybe Mr, Walter
St. Omer Stark has reached his father
by this time—maybe not! Perhaps-I can

I’m

stop him, and get the start, if I hustle. |

Here goes !” .

Unmindful of the throbbing pain in his
head, hetran down the street once more,
holding the lariat in his hands.

“Third house, around the corner,” came
from his dry lips. “One, two, three—hyar
it is!”

At that moment a boy, mounted ona
spirited little bay mare, rode out from

|chuckled, allowing the

 

the staple that sat back from the house,
He saw Bart coming down the road ata
run, and a laugh broke from his lips,

“The wild boy from the West has a
hard head, but there’s nothing in it,” he
little mare to
canter out to the road, where he checked
her and awaited the approach of the lad
he felt he had outwitted.

Bart’s eyes were filled with a desperate
light, as he approached, and he made
some preparations which Walter Stark
did not note.

The rich man’s son sat still on the
horse until Bart was quite close, and
then he called out tauntingly:

“Things move in this part of the coun-
try, and you are altogether too slow.
Better take my advice, go back home,
and stick to your cattle, That's the kind
a society you’re best adapted to. Good-
ay

He touched the little mare with a wip
he held, and she wheeled to bound away,
Bart Stone was still running forward,

j}and something was circling about his

head. Of a sudden it darted out, and the
noose of the horse-hair lasso dropped
about the neck of the little mare.

‘The instant-he made the cast, Bart had
leaped to one side of the road and taken
a turn of the lasso about a stone hitching-
post,

As a result, the little mare was stopped
with a suddenness that nearly hurled her
forward on her nose. Walter Stark was
sent flying through the air, to land
heavily in the dirt of the road, bewil-
dered, dazed, astounded,

Choked by the noose, trembling iu
every limb, the bay mare stood still,
probably wondering what had happened
to check her so abruptly and rudely,

“Whoa—easy,” called Bart, as che _re-
leased the lasso and reached the side of
the horse.

With his hand on the animal’s bridle,
be knew he was master of the situation,
A light spring took him to the saddle,
but he held the prancing creature in
check with one hand, while the other
skillfully coiled the faithful horse-hair
lariat,

Welter Stark sat up in the dust of the
road just in time to see the bay mare
canter easily past him, with the boy from
the West on her back.

Bart turned in the saddle to wave his
hand at the humiliated rich man’s son,
calling back in an aggravating drawl:

“T’ll think over that yar advice of
yours, partner, and maybe I'll take it, if
I conclude you was right. But you can’t
always tell how fast a hawse can trot by
counting its ribs. Gvood-by.”

CHAPTER III,
TOO LATE!

or R. STARK, if you can spare me
M the time, I want to talk overa

YYe} little business with you.”
«osy “Business, business! This is
no place for business, young man! I came
here to escape business—I came here to
fish. No, sir; I will not discuss business
of any sort.”

The words filled Bartley Stone with
despair, After passing through so many
adventures, and riding on horseback from
Somerset Falls to Lake Kenshaw, was
he to be baffled simply because this man
had resolved not to be bothered with
business for the time?

Unless he could induce Cyrus Stark to
talk business immediately, he felt sure
he would utterly fail in his purpose, asa
short delay would be pretty certain to
make the man aware of the truth about
the White Horse Mine, now known to his

son.

And still it would not do to let him
know the matter was of' serious import-
ance, for then he might suspect the truth,
and refuse to negotiate at all.

“T have come a long distance to. see
you, sir, and——”

“That is nothing tome, I have comea
long distance to avoid all bother of busi-
ness, Physician told me I must—said it
was imperative. And you’re only a boy.
I never transact business with a minor,
That settles it, sir.”

“Tt is about the White Horse Mine,
Mr. Stark.”

The millionaire started and looked the
boy over with a slight show of interest.

“That? Why, it’s petered out—no good
—failed. You’re from the West?”

“Yes, sir. I know the lead of that yar
mine was_ lost, but I’ve been down the
shaft, and I reckon I can make it pay on
asmall scale by working over the aban-
doned vein. I'm willing to take the ven-
ture, if I can buy the right to the mine.”

“Won't be any trouble about that. Go
ahead and dig around in the old shaft as
much as you like.” And Cyrus Stark
settled back in the hammock spread be-
neath the trees close by a pretty cottage
that stood on the shore of the lake,
puffing at his half-smoked cigar.

But Bart was not to be dismissed
such a manner, ; j

“T had rather do'this thing in a business

in

 
GooD NEWS.

S427

 

way,” he said. “I have heard the shares
of the mine have no quoted value, and
that you hold them all. If they can be
bought for a small pile, so lcan make
something out of working the old veins,
why I’m hvar to buy them.”

“And you bother me over sucha trifling
matter? 1 won’t have it! The stock is in
the hands of my attorney, Jubal Heep,
No. 73 Broadway, New York city, and he
has full authority to dispose ot it. Go to
him! I’m done! Won't say another word
about it!”

The effort to get anything further out
of Mr. Stark proved fruitiess, but he had
said quite enough to give the boy from
the West an idea of the proper course to
pursue.

“To Jubal Heep I’ll go,” he thought,
“If IT can reach him before he receives a
hint of the truth, I may corral this yar
stock after all.”

Five minutes later he was riding
through the dusk of oncoming night,
Lake Kenshaw at his back.

The little bay mare was a wiry animal,
for she did not seem to mind the effect of
the sharp pace at which she had_ covered
the six miles between Somerset Falls and
Lake Kenshaw, and she was as_ spirited
and ready as ever when headed back to-
ward the town.

Bart was a pretty hard rider, but he
found no occasion for urging the little
horse. The roads were bad in_ that sec-
tion, and it was his chief outlook that
the mare received no injury.

He wondered how he would reach Burn-
ham Junction, knowing there was a mid-
night passenger train for New York
which he might catch, if he could get
there on time.

“T’ll hoof it,” was his plucky resolve.
“Lean doit all right. This hawse must
be left at Somerset Fall, or else I may be
taken for a hawse-thief.”

The lights of the little town were
twinkling from the windows of the houses

‘when he rode down the dusty street
where Walter Stark had been humiliated
that afternoon.

He had noticed a store and post-office
near the depot, and thither he went,
having decided to leave the horse at that
place. As he rode up, two men caine out
of the store. They saw him, and one of
them started forward, crying:

“That’s the boy! That’s my hoss! Catch
him!” ,

Bart immediately realized he was in
great danger of being detained there,
which would certainly baffle him utterly
in his attempt to reach Jubal Heep be-
fore the attorney was notified not to sell
the shares of the White Horse Mine.

“Off the trail! Clear the way for a
stampede! Hyar goes the whole bunch!”

Swish! the coiled lasso hissed through
the air, and cut across the flank of the
little mare, causing her to leap forward
and shoot past the man who had bounded
out to grasp her bit. .

“Can’t stop for little matters now,
came through Bart’s clenched teeth. “Got
to make Burnham in time to catch the
midnight passenger. I’ve got the name
of lifting a hawse, and so I may as well
ride the critter to Burnham.” :

He knew there was little danger of im-
mediate pursuit, for there were not any
spare horses in Somerset Falls, as a
rule.

Twice he was obliged to eee and. in-

quire concerning the road to Burnham,
but he reached the junction with nearly
two hours to spare before midnight,
_ He rode direct to a livery stable, where
the horse was delivered, and he left ten
dollars to pay for the use of the animal,
stating it belonged to Steve Jones, of
Somerset Falls, who would call for it.

Then he went down to the railroad sta-
tion, where he tound a telegraph’ office,
but was informed there was no line run-
ning to Somerset Falls.

The post-office and stores of the town
were closed, but he “borrowed” a sheet of
paper and an envelope of the station
agent, and proceeded to write a letter to
Mr. Jones, telling the man where he
would find his horse and money to remun-
erate-him for the use of the animal.

The station agent sold him a stamp,
and when the letter was completed,
sealed, and dropped into the mail-box at
the depot, he breathed easier. : :

“Hanged if I don’t feel something like
a hawse-thief,” he muttered, as he walked
up and down the platform. “Never did
anything like that before, but I just had
to this time. Wonder whar that yar
Walter Stark is.” 3 :

He soon found out, for a carriage con-
taining three persons—two men and a
boy—whirled up to the station about
thirty minutes before the midnight pas-

-senger was due, and Bart, who was stand-
ing in the darkness at one corner of the
building, recognized the lad as the rich
- man's son whom he had outwitted.

Walter Stark and one of the men en-
tered the station, and Bart hurried toa
window that was standing open. There
he heard himself described and inquiries
made as to whether he had been seen by
the station agent. The agent said such a

little man with

boy had certainly been there, but he was
gone then.

“Did he purchase a ticket here?” anx-
iously asked the son of the millionaire.

“And you don’t know where he went?”

“IT donot. What has he done?”

“Stolen a horse,” was thereply. “Ihave
a warrant for his arrest, and the sheriff
is with me to serve it. If he shows up
here again, detain him, and I’ll pay you
twenty-five dollars. But be’s a perfect
youn ruffian. You want to look out for
ait

With that, Walter Stark and the sheriff
hurriedly left the depot and once more
entered the carriage, being driven rapidly
away.

Bart hoped he had seen the last of
them, but he took care to keep out of
sight until the midnight train whistled.
As the train drew up at the station, he
got on the last car,

Just then the carriage containing
Walter Stark whirled up to the station
again, and the boy sprang out, rushed
forward and boarded the train, as it was
beginning to move,

“He’s on his way to see Jubal Heep,”
thought the boy from the West. “Some-
how he has got word to his father, and
Cyrus Stark has sent him to get ahead of
me.” *

This made Bart feel anything but
pleasant, as he entered the car and sat
down. He half-hoped Walter Stark
would come along, see him, and pick a
quarrel. Although he knew it was but
natural young Stark should iook out for
his father’s interests, he could not for-
give the fellow for knocking him down
with the cane, after being indebted to
him for the preservation of his life: He
did not go through the cars in search for
Walter, and the boys were not fated to
meet on the journey to New York city,
which was reached early in the morn.
ing.

From the Grand Central Station Bart
took the Third avenue elevated down
town, crossing City Hall Park in the
dusky light of morning, scarcely giving
a glance to the settees of drowsing bums
and unfortunates who had no other place
to spend the night,

The number of Jubal Heen’s office was
reached long before the building was
opened for the morning, and the anxious
and excited boy could do nothing but |
walk up and down the sidewalk before |
the door, waiting until Heep should ap-

ear.
- He well knew Walter Stark might pro-
ceed direct to the home of the attorney,
which was unknown to Bart, and thus
easily rvin his prospects; but, for all of
this, he could do nothing.

People began to hurry along the street
to stores and offices, heavy trucks rum-
bled over the pavement, and the surface
cars were gradually filled until at last
they were crowded, Then the janitor came
and opened the building. From him
Bart learned the number of Jubal Heep’s
office, and he walked up the stairs until
he found the door, .

There he waited. It seemed as if the
man would never appear. Other offices
were opened al) about, and there was a
general air of business all through the
building by ten o’clock; but it was fully
thirty minutes after ten before a nervous
black whiskers and a
nose like the beak of a hawk unlocked
the door of Heep’s room.

Bart entered, and the man looked at
him inquiringly, seeming slightly sur-
prised at his curious and unusual appear-
ance.

“Can I do anything for you, young
man?" he inquired, in a raspy, file-like
voice. / .
“J—I’m hyar to see Mr. Jubal Heep,”
faltered the lad. 3

“You are looking at him now. What's
your business?”

Bart had intended to approach the
matter cautiously, and in a manner that
could not arouse the attorney’s suspi-
cions, but Heep’s brusqueness discon-
certed him, and he answered:

“T’ve come to see if I can corral the
shares of the White Horse Mine.”

“Corral them? What's that?”

“Buy them, I mean, sir.”

“Hum! Talk English, young man.
You’re too late.”

“Too late!” gasped Bart, his heart sink-
ing. “What do you mean?”

“The stock’s no good in this country—
isn’t worth a penny. So, being instructed
by Mr. Stark, the owner, to get rid of it
at any price, I decided to send it to Eng-
land and spring it on the blooming
Britishers.”

Tee!

“Tt’s in the hands of an “agent. He
sailed for Engiand yesterday on the
Majestic.”

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

ee ee
THE sun is 92,500,000 miles from the

 

 

earth. The latter receives only one two-
billionth of the solar heat.

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

DP TE BiChOoORyY

OF THE

MOUNTAIN EXPRESS:

OR,

SWITCH-YARD
BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR,

Author of “Zig-Zag, the Boy Conjurer,” “The
Young Stone-Cutter,” etc.

FROM TO LEVER.

se

(“LITTLE HICKORY OF THE MOUNTAIN EXPRESS”

was commenced in No. 207. Back numbers can be
obtained of allNXNews Agents.)

CHAPTER XXV.
TRAIN HELD UP BY TRAMPS,

coe
QD.HE suddenness with which this had
t i? all come for au instant bewildered
Little Hickory. He glanced at the
Z gauge to see that they had a good
head of steam on. Still the driving-wheels
spun around without getting ahead, and,
knowing something must be wrong, he

; shut off the steam.

At that moment he heard a rattling
noise behind him, and turned to see three
dark figures rise from the coal-bin, and
start toward him.

Confused cries were now heard from
the rear of the train, and he was aware
of the hurried approach of men toward
the engine. ‘

The train had been attacked by a gang
of way layers.

It was a desperate situation, and the
boy fireman, deserted by the engineer,
who was not to be seen, seized upon the
poker at his feet, resol¥ed to sell his life
as dearly as possible.

“Give up, or we'll kill yel” cried a
hoarse voice from the foremost of the en-
gine stowaways. at that moment gaining
the foot-boards.

Excitement lending him strength, Lit-
tle Hickory, without stopping to count
the odds, dealt.the man a blow which
sent him to the ground with a ery of
pain.

‘ The second followed him with a fiercer
blow, and then the third, who flourished
a huge knife, joined his companions.

Little Hickory had cleared the cab in
half the time I am describing it.

Pistol-shots and wild shouts now told

him that a fierce hand-to-hand encounter |.

was taking place along the train.

Casting a hurried glance around him,
he sprang to the ground to go to the as-
sistance of the brakemen and the rest.
But the sight of several others coming to
the assistance of the attacking party told
him it would not do for him to desert the
engine. E

Like a happy inspiration a new thought
came to him, showing a way out of the

ix.

If the train would not move forward,
might it not be run back?

In an instant his hand was on the re-
versing lever; the steam was Jet on, the
bell rang out its waining notes; the
whistle sounded its alarm to the train-
men. Then, the great wheel began to re-
volve; the puffing and snorting iron horse
moved backward, slowly at first, but with
rapidly increasing speed, until it was
under full way.

Wilder yells than ever rang on the air,
and shots and shrieks, but abuve them
Little Hickory imagined he heard the
hopeful cries of his friends.

He saw the train rush past the discom-
fited and baffled mob, until the last had
been left half a mile away, when he be-
gan to slow up. :

When the train had come te a stand-
stil], he looked back to catch sight of a
brakeman, whom he called forward:

“What is up?” both cried in the same
words and the same breath,

In the midst of their explanations,
Conductor Anderson joined them, show-
ing by his manner that he was greatly
excited.

“Have you left them, Hickory?”

“Half a mile ahead§ unless there are
some on the rear.”

“None of them succeeded in getting a
fast hold, though they would have got
possession of the train in another min-
ute, if you hadn’t run back just as you
aa How was it you stopped so sud-

enly?”

Little Hickory quickly explained what
had taken place on the engine, even to
the desertion of Engineer Darrow.

“Tt’s all a mystery to me,” replied Mr.
Anderson. “I am sure the men who tried
to hold us up were a lot of tramps. “They
weren’t professionals, that’s sure, Well,
I suppose the best we can do will be to
run wack to Mary’s and side-track, as it
is about time for Van to be along. Then
we will get a parcel of men, and make an
investigation of the track ahead.”

 

Acting upon this order, the train was
soon run back to Mary’s Furnace.

Very fortunately none of the trainmen
or passengers, who had lent good assist-
ance in beating off the robbers, had been
seriously hurt in the affray.

As soon as the account of the attack
was told, more than twenty men volun-
teered from this place to march down the
track to the scene of the fight, headed by
Conductor Anderson.

Little Hickory remained at Mary’s
Furnace to look after the train,

By the time the party had reached the
place of the assault, the tramps had dis-
appeared, though they had left traces
which showed that some of them had
been severely injured, if not killed.

An examination of the track showed
that the rails for some distance had been
carefully greased, which accounted for
the sudden stoppage of the engine.

“Whoever saw the beat of that?” ex-
claimed the conductor,

“I don’t wonder Little Hickory was
stuck, But where can Darrow be?”

“T thought I heard some one move off
to the right,” said one of the crowd.

“It might be well to make a search
around here. -The poor fellow may have
been hurt,” said Mr. Anderson.

While half a dozen of the men carried
out this order, he applied a lighted match
to the oil upon the rails, when a stream
of fire instantly ran along the iron hars
with lightning-like rapidity, the fire illu-
minating the lonely scene fora consider-
able distance. 8

“That will fix it all right for Van,” de-
clared the conductor, as with his com-
panions he watched the tiny conflagra-
tion.
“Look. there!” suddenly exclaimed one
of the men, pointing excitedly toward a
——- of bushes a few rods from the

yack.

Under the intense excitement of the oc-
casion the abrupt cry caused the specta-
tors to quickly clutch their weapons and
glance sharply around.

There was no reason for alarm, how-
ever, for the object which had caught the
attention of the spexker was only a man’s
face framedin the dense growth, as its.
owner peered out upon the little group”
Distaly seen by the light of the burning
oil.
“It’s Darrow,” saidothe conductor,
Then, turning to the hiding man} he
cried :

“Hilloa, Fox! what’s up? Come, show
youself!”

“What has happened?” asked the other,
stepping forward with some hesitation.
“T thought I heard pistol-shots.”

“No doubt about that if you had your
ears open. But we want you to give an
explanation of yourself.”

“T had a remarkable dream, Mr. Ander-
son, and I dreamed it standing, Mr.
Anderson. You know dreams always
come to pass when we dream them stand-
ing.”
The conductor bent a piercing look upon
the speaker, as if he would read _ his
thoughts. That look was enough to
satisfy him that Fox Darrow was not in
his right mind.

“Come with us, Fox
to the train.”

The engineer obeyed without a word.

Before Mary’s Furnace was reached the
express train came along, so the mixed
was free to continue, as soon as every-
thing was in readiness to do so.

Little Hickory acted as engineer, while
one of the brakeman fired for him.

Mr. Darrow was induced to ride as a
passenger, his mind too unsettled to real-
iez what was taking place. :

In this way Lock Haven was safely
reached, nothing being seen of the tramps.

Upon the advice of Mr. Anderson, Lit-
tle Hickory was appointed to succeed Mr.
Darrow permanently, it being doubtful if
the latter would ever recover his mental
faculties so as to resume duty as an en-
gineer, though along rest might, in a
measure, restore his mind to its useful
activity.

; We are going back

CHAPTER XXVI.
IN THE TOILS, *

A HIS case of Engineer Darrow is not
2 an isolated one by any means, but
% a condition of not infrequent occur-
<7 rence, where years of steady appli-
cation have succeeded each other, until
the constant care and strain upon the
system at last completely breaks it down,
In fact, so certain is the result of long
confinement to this duty that some of the
great railway managers ‘are considering
the advisability of retiring their engin-
eers at an earlier age than heretofore, As
early as forty-five, when it would seem
that men ought to be in the prime of life;
and when they would be in following the
peaceful pursuits of a stationary calling.
Though I would not discourage any
boy from entering upon a railroad life, if
his inclinations incline that way, I wish —
he might bear this stern fact in mind. TI
hold, too, that engineers, like poets, are

 
3428

Coo)

WIIKT a

aT: De

 

Of course, this rule ap-
plies to all successful followers of trades
or of professions, in my belief.

The example of our hero is not the rule
that governs the success of
but the exception.
Little Hickory was a born engineer. His
very babyhood was passed upon the foot-
boards beside his father, and though
there were a few years when he was busy
with his studies, he did not forget
stirring sounds of the rushing train or
miss the inspiration of the music of
rails, which had so delighted him
days gone by.

At this point I wish to say a word for

born, not made.

the benefit of some one, I trust, in regard |

to the order of promotion, fearing that
the irregular course followed by our hero
may mislead those who are not posted.
This order varies on different railroad
systems, but, as a rule, an engineer is
first a fireman, and very seldom is an
engineer taken from any other position,
OF course, tne exception to this is when a
person shows an unmistakable gift in
that direction, when grade is thrown to

train, he is supposed to have reached the
height of his ambition. At any rate, he
has gained the summit of the calling.

In the other lines of railroad life, the
rule of promotion varies the same as in
the above. Here the highest goal to reach
is to be conductor on the identical train

guided by the watchful eye of him who}

has won the proud distinction of Sir
Knight of the Lever on some lightning
express. On some lines conductors are
taken from the baggage masters, while
on others they are promoted from among
the brakemen, the eldest generally having
the precedence.

But, as [I have said, all this does not
count as much as one’s natural abilities
for the place, and the persistency and
faithfulness with which he performs his
duties, whether it be as brakeman, bag-
gage boy, or as fireman.

As engineer of ‘the mixed train, Little

lickory might well feel that he had suc-
ceeded in a remarkable manner. Still,
like any true. American boy, he would
‘not be satisfied until he stood at the post
so long and so faithfully occupied by
Grizzly Van of the Mountain Express.

The day following his appointment to
No. 9, the trial of the train-robbers took
place, which resulted in their sentence to
imprisonment for the balance of their
days, while Buck Hastings went from
the court-room a free man, in considera-
tion for what he had done toward estab-
lishing the guilt of the others, and upon
his solemn promise to live henceforth a
better life.

Gentleman Carl, the leader of the gang,
was still at liberty, and nothing had been
seen or learned of him for some time.

While Little Hickory was off duty at-
tending the trial, he saw Mrs. Hastings,
and prevailed upon her to sell her house

at Bitter Root and to move to Lock

- Haven, which she was only too glad to

do, From that time Little Hickory made

his home with her, saving each month

coos his earnings something to pay on
is home.

Buck came to live with his mother,
too, and having secured a situation to
work in the yard, he followed closely his
occupation.

In the midst of their quiet pursuit of
duties, when Little Hickory had so far
forgotten that he had an enemy as to
banish from his thoughts his intention
of troubling any one with his suspicion,
he was called from his home one evening
by a stranger, who claimed be had an im-

portant errand fo perform. _
No sooner ree they. lone than the
stranger threw off the ‘heavy shawl he

had worn over his shoulders and_ pulled
across his face, when Little Hickory
recognized him as the stranger who had
pretended to warn him of danger at the
beginning of his railroad career.

“What have you to say to me?” de-
manded Little Hickory, determined not
to be taken off his guard,

“T have come as a friend, and as such
you may remember me,”

“Lremember you.”

“But you forgot my warning.”

“Tf I did, you see it was uncalled for. I
demand an explanation now of your
reason for coming to me in this way.”

“T think I made it plain enough before.
If you have escaped so far the dangers of
which I hinted at, then credit your good
luck for such fortune. I know you area
brave youth,” he went on, changing his
tactics somewhat, seeing our hero’s evi-
dent impatience; “but one cannot expect
always to outwit or defeat the many who
are pitted against him, If those whe are
against you have seemed to sleep, so wil}
they be the stronger when they awaken.

“You may not know that your stanch
friend, Mr. Lord, has left the country.”

Little Hickory did not know this, but
he allowed the other to continue without
acknowledging as much. ?

“You will understand by that your sup-
port has been knocked from under you.

ailroad boys, |
An exception, because |

the |

the |

in |

iI will show you something which

the wind. When a person has become the} Hickory had not realized how far they

master of an engine drawing an express |

‘answer your question.”

 

end?
can?”

Little Hickory had been thinking fast
and earnestly while the other had heen
speaking, and, when he had finished, he

| said:

“T know nothing about what you say,
and I care less. I have always taken care |
of myself, and [ think I can a little while }
longer. Who are you who comes to me in
this underhanded way? For what reason
are you pursuing this course againsi me?
Ihave half a mind to complain of you
and have you arrested.”

“Do it if you dare!” hissed the un-
known. “It would be the dearest thing |}
you ever did. You ask me who | am, and
for what purpose I come to you in this
way. Come with me a few nvinutes, and
will
open your’eyes. I won’t detain you uver
half an hour.”

They had stopped in one of the back
streets, and until that moment Little

had come.

“No,” he replied, quickly; “I do not
care to go farther with you. Neither do I
care to have further talk with you. Go|
your way and I will go mine.”

With these words Little Hickory turned
to start homeward, but before he had
taken the first step his companion gave a |
shrill whistle, at the same time throwing
his shaw] over the young engineer’s head.

Little Hickory tried to throw it off and
to escape from the iron-like arms which
encircled him, but in vain.

The tramp of feet instantly answered
the whistle, when three new-comers
sprang from the darkness of one of the
alleys, to lend their assistance to the
captor.

In half a minuate’s time Little Hickory
was a prisoner, and being dragged away
by his captors, he Knew not whither,

CHAPTER XXVII.
LITTLE HICKORY’S DOOM.

HE cries of Little Hickory stifled
te by the thick shawl over his head,
> he found himself .vapidly taken
away by his captors,

Finally he knew they were entering a
building, and that they were moving
over a rough floor.

Then a descent was made, he heard a
door creak on its rusty hinges, and the
damp, clammy atmosphere of an under-
ground apartment sent a chill through
his frame,

The next moment the shaw] was pulled
from his head, and he found himself con-
fronted by four masked men,

Stone walls surrounded him as far as
he could see by the dim light of a lamp
held in the hands of one of his captors,

“Perbaps you begin to see your mistake
in not heeding my aavice,” said the same
man who had called him from his home.
“We'll find a way to tame your stubborn
spirit.”

“How dare you treat me in this way?”
he demanded.

“Ha, ha! we dare to treat you in any
way wechoose. By way of showing you
how useless it is for you to cherish any
hope of escape, I want you to understand
that no cry of yours can reach the ear of
afriend; and more than that, you will
never leave this place alive unless itis
our will,

“Now, are you ready to listen to rea-
son?”

*I don’t understand why you have
dragged me here in this way,” said Lit-
tle Hickory. “If you would give me any
reason for it, then I might know how to

“Fool! you. understand my _ wishes,
They are simple enough, and I have
stated them plainly enough for an idiot
to understand. But that you may have
no doubt, I will repeat what I have al-
ready said to you,

“Will you swear to resign your posi-
tion on, the L. H. and T. R. R,, to-
morrow morning, and leave these parts
at once and forever? Elsewhere, if you
wish, you can begin a new railroad life,
but let the old die. Will you agree to
this, upon the condition that we take you
safely back to your home? Remember, you
are never, upon the penalty of death, to
even hint of meeting us, or to betray the
secret in your possession, Your answer,”

“What if I refuse?”

“Then you never leave here alive.”

“But you give me no reason for this
outrageous, treatment. I repeat that I
have not injured you.’ ‘

“Fool! that is not the object. One who
has reason to hate you demands what I
have asked. You are in our power com-
pleteby. There is positively no escape for
you, save in complying to our reqnest.
Why do you hesitate? We might kill you
here and the world would never be the
wiser for your fate. But we do not wish
to do that if you will listen to reason.

’

jand

 

Can you ask for anything more fair?”

busy with the conflicting thoughts which
had come to him,

He realized the helplessness of his situ-
ation, yet he was not one to yield until
the last. straw v broken. He blamed
himself then for having neglected to lay
what he had learned before Mr. Lord, or
some one whom he could trust. But in
the rush and excitement of the past few
weeks he had quite forgotten it. Evi-
dently these masked men gave him credit
for knowing more than he really did.

In the midst of his reflections, the
spokesinan repeated his denrand, when
Little Hickory replied, with unmistakable
firniness: °

“T have no promise to make.”

“Enough said,” retorted the other,
curtly. “Come, boys, we will lose no
more time with him. When he has stayed
here for three days without food or drink,
no company but the rats, he will
think @ifferently, or [ am vo judge of
human nature,”

While he wasspeaking, two of the men
had retreated to the iron door, and the
next moment the four disappeared, leay-
ing Little Hickory alone and a captive.

It was some time before he could realize
what had transpired during the past
hour,

When he had gathered his scattered
thoughts enough for him to realize his
situation, he made a careful examination
of his surroundings, to find that he was
encircled by walls of solid masonry. He
judged the cell was about ten by twelve
feet, but its size mattered less to him
than the other stubborn fact that there
was no way of leaving the place, save by
the door, which seemed as impregnable as
the stone partitions,

The floor consisted of a sort of paving
as hard as rock itself,

Of course, there must be a window or |

ventilation, but ib was too
to see anything of the

sort of

dark for him
kind, Ina dazed way he
the wall to try and plan some method of
escape. He shouted at the top of his
voice for belp, but the walls threw back
the cries with mocking echoes, which
sounded hollow and unearthly.

In a loneliness beyond description he
passed hour after hour, which he had no
way of counting, until a faint streak of
light found its way into his dismal
prison, and he knew another day had
dawned,

He wondered if a search was being
made for him, and, if so, would he be
found? He had little hope of that, and he
fell tou conjecturing if his captors had left
him there to die,

He again made an examination of his
prison, more carefully than before, and
during his circuit he discovered a place
in the floor where the paving had cracked
and loosened somewhat,

Dropping upon his knees he began to
tear away the broken pieces until he
could tovch the earth beneath. Encour-
aged by this, he conceived the plan of
digging out under the wall, and began
work at otice.

With nothing to work with but the
pieces of paving that he could break off
from the main body, he kept diligently
at his painful task, while the hours wore
tediously away, until the faint gleam of
daylight had faded, and he knew another
night had set in.

He had heard nor seen nothing of his
enemies, but he feared they might return
at any moment, to find him before he
could get away.

Thirst and hunger were now beginning
to be felt, which, with exhaustion from
his work, made it necessary for him tolie
down, when, despite the hardness of his
couch, he soon fell asleep.

When he awoke, refreshed by his sleep,
he resumed his digging, fee ing that
every moment was precious to him.

He had now nearly reached the rear of
the wall, when to his disappointment he
found his course stopped by a hnge
bowlder, His hands were worn through
the skin in many places and bleeding, so
he paused in his work with a feeling of
despair.

The sunlight was again shining faintly
into the dungeon through the slight
crevice near the top of one side of the
cell. :

In the midst of his rest from work, he
fancied he heard movements without the
door, which announced the coming of his
jailers,

He listened with bated breath, to
breathe easier when he could at last feel
that no one was near, .

Rallying, then, he returned to his hope-
less task of digging out, and all that day,
with short intervals of rest, he kept at
his work.

When finally, to his great joy, he had
succeeded in working his way around the
big bowlder, he found that the feeble
rays ot daylight had once more died out
on the hard floor.

Though he had made a passage around
the bowlder, he had no idea how much
farther he had got to dig to find an exit
from his prison,

-

some

leaned against |

|Hven if this were not the case, w hy | Little Hickory did not reply, his mind Worn out with his work, and suffering
should you continue to defy those who} e
must of necessity effect your ruin in the}
Why not get out of this while you |
}
|

} untold pangs from thirst
exclaimed in his despair:
“It is no use. I must die here.”

| He had searcely uttered the hopeless
words, wheu the massive door opened and

|the four masked men entered the cell,
|the foremost bearing a lantern in his ex-
| tended hand. :

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

and hunger, he

—~$—-@—@——.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

“TAHE northern limit of the brown
> bear’s habitat is as yet undeter-
bs mined, but I have seen them in the
\— interior of Alaska as far as latitude
sixty-seven degrees, and they probably
range still farther,” said Uncle John,
when the boys had asked him for some
points about these beasts. “My first en-
counter with one of these animals was a
startling experience for me, and, I have
always thought, equally so for the bear.

“We had been working up against the
strong. current of the Koowak River all
day, and toward nightfall pitched our
tent at the base of a bigh bluff forming
the right bank of the stream,

“While supper was being prepared, I
climbed the bluff to get a look at the
country, and was walking leisurely along
with my gun carelessly held in my left
hand, The top of the bluff was densely
covered almost to the edge with spruces
and alders, and the undergrowth was 80
thick that it was impossible to see more
than a few feet through it. Ahead of me
a cluster of rocks offered a temporary
place to sit down and enjoy the view,
and 1 made for it.

“Just as Ireached the nearest rock, a
tremendous shaggy animal rose appar-
ently from under my feet, and I imme-
diately recognized in him the brown bear
of whose fierceness the natives had been
telling me for weeks.

“My first instinct was to shoot, and I
probably would have done so had my gun
been in my right band; but the first mo-
tion I made the bear reared on his
haunches and was so forrnidable-looking
that I concluded to wait and see what he
intended doing. After a moment’s hesita-
tion he dropped on all fours, and with
wonderful quickness turned and sprang
out of sight in the.dense undergrowth.

“When I returned to camp and related
my experience, Tah-rok, my native guide,
assured me that the bear must have
recently concluaed a heavy meal, as
otherwise he would have most certainly
attacked me,”

Some officers from one of the vessels of
the Behring Sea fleet went ashore at
Herendeen Bay during the summer ona
deer hunt, and one of the party saw a
bear about one hunderd yards distant,
eating berries.

Without a thought of the consequences
he raised his gun and fired at the animal.
The shot went wide of the mark, but at
the report of the gun the bear started for
the hunter on the dead run. His charge
was met by a shower of bullets from the
officer’s repeater. Although badly wound-
ed, the infuriated brute did not hesitate
an instant, but rushed straight at his
enemy.

When within about ten feet of the
hunter, the bear rose on his baunches and
prepared to close. Blood was pouring in
streams down his body. One bullet had
shattered his upper jaw, but he was still
so full of fight that the outcome of the
struggle would have been extremely
doubtful had not another of the party
arrived and ended the fight by shooting
the prute through the brain, :

An examination of the bear’s body
showed that it had been struck six times.
Three of the shots were in parts of the
body ordinarily considered vital, and
would doubtless have ultimately caused
death, but the vitality of these animals
is almost incredible, instances having
been cited of their running over one hun-
dred yards after. being shot through the
heart,

 

NATIONAL GREETINGS.

“How can you?’ That’s Swedish.

‘How do you fare?’ That’s Dutch.

“How do you stand?’ That’s Italian.

“Go with God, senor?’ That’s Spanish.

“How do you live on?” That’s Russian.

‘How do you perspire?’ That’s Egyptian.

“How do you have yourself?’ °That’s.
Polish. g

“How do you find yourself?’ That’s Ger-
man.
“Thank God, how are you?’ That’s Ara-
bian. / x
“May thy shadow never grow less.”” That’s
Persian.

“How
French,

“How do you do?’
American.

“Be under the guard of God.’”’ That’s Otto-
man.

“How is your stomach? Have you eaten
your rice?’ That’s Chinese,

do you carry yourself?’ That’s

That’s English and

 

 
GooDpD

 

(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form,]

ae & e G +] (

‘The Pluck of a Pilot;
OR,

THE GREAT

BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,
Author of “Lieut. Carey’s Luck,” “Midshipman
Merrill,” “Won at West Point,” etc.

PERILS OF LAKES,

PLUCK OF A PILOT” was commenced in
Buck numbers can be obtained of all

CHAPTER XIII.
THE MYSTERIOUS PACKAGE.
HEN Randy and Ben glanced
\\/> down through the grating into

* the fire-room, they saw the re-

ef) maining rutfian a helpless pris-

oner in the hands of Fulton and his two fire-
men.

He had evidently been captured only a
moment previous, as the engineer had just
finished binding him.

But that which had caused the boys to
start back with ae horror was
the fact that one of the furnace doors was
open, and the three men were dragging their
captive toward the fiery entrance.

““My heavens !
poor wretch ?” cried Ben, staring down with
wide-open eyes.

Leaning far
clenched fist
shouted:

“Stop! What do you mean, Fulton?
What are you going to do with that man ?”

‘The engineer looked up, and replied, in a
voice hoarse with passion :

“Kill him !—turn scoundrel
He tried to recapture yacht !—
to settle it!”

Before he had finished the last ejacula-
tion, Randy was at his side.

“You cannot do it on board of this yacht,
Fulton,” replied the young pilot, firmly.
“7 am captain here, and I'll not permit any
such brutality. Turn your prisoner over to
me.”

The engineer hesitated for a very brief
period, and then bade his men surrender
the captive thief to Randy.

“Bad mistake,” he said, but with more
mildness. ‘‘Better put ’em out of way while
you have achance. I know’em. Murder-
ers and thieves. Would kill you quicker ’n
lightning.”

“That is all very true, Fulton,” replied
Randy ; “‘but, nevertheless; we can’t do as
you propose. How 'did he happen to get
down here ?”

“Crept down like a wild cat—jumped me
—fireman swatted him in jaw. What’s the
matter on deck?”

“They made their escape from the fore-
castle in some manner, and surprised the
mate. Iwas awakened from my sleep by
hearing a shout, and on running to the door,
caught two of them trying to break in. Ben

- and I settled both, and then heard the noise
in the fire-room. ITllinvestigate the matter
and see how they obtained their freedom.’

Bidding the fireman bring the rufflan—
who seemed greatly. frightened at his recent
danger—Randy and Ben returned to the
deck,

After ordering the steward to attend to
the wounded mate, the boy-pilot explored
the forecastle, and found the two sailors
bound and helpless in one of the bunks.

On being released, they stated that one
of the prisoners had. worked his hands free
during the night, and had then contrived to
release the remaining uninjured pirates.

Watching their chance, they suddenly
sprang upon both sentries, and knocked
them insensible. °

The two wounded men were still securely
fastened. It had evidently been the inten-
tion of the others to release them after re-
gaining command of the yacht.

“Well, we have all had a very narrow es-
cape,” remarked Randy, as Ben and he left
the forecastle, ‘‘and I won’t feel easy until
we get these pirates on shore. We will now
see how our two near the cabin door are
faring.”’

On regaining the deck, they found that
one of the firemen had taken the precaution
to tie the ruffians’ hands, although they
were still insensible.

By Randy's orders they were removed to
the forecastle and their wounds attended to,
and they finally regained consciousness.

During the balance of the voyage to De-
troit, Ben stood guard at the door of the
temporary prison with a cocked revolver in
his hand, a precaution which restrained the
pirates from making any further trouble,

over,
upon

Randy beat with his
the iron bars, and

into ashes!
only one way

do they intend to burn the |

 

soon recovered from his injury,
and when the Dragon finally reached
lower -erid of Lake Huron, he able
attend to his duties.

The passage through the St, Clair River,

thet nate
the

was to

across the lake of the same name, and down |

the Detroit
nightfall, under
without a mishap

River to the
Randy's

ity, was made after
skillful direction,

Anchoring in mid-stream, the young com- |

mander speedily dispatched a messenger for
the river police boat, and before midnight
had the five pirates in the hands of the
proper authorities.

Then, and not until t then, the weary crew
of the Dragon sought their beds, and ob-
tained a much needed rest.

Randy was up and about bright and early
on the following morning.

“We must testify against those fellows
first, and then I will have to get that
precious package from the shipping firm of
Cudlipp & Company,” he said to Ben, while
they were partaking of a hearty breakfast.

“When do you intend starting back for
Keelton ?”

“Just as soon as we can coal ship, which
ought to be by three or four this after-
noon.”

“What do you think the package will
contain ?”

“J haven’t the slightest idea, chum, but
it ought to be very valuable to repay Mr.
Cudlipp for all this expense and trouble.”

At nine o’clock the boys went ashore and
called at the police court, where they gave
convincing testimony against the lake
thieves, who were ultimately sentenced to
a long term in the State prison.

‘Now, thank goodness, we’re out of that
trouble,”. remarked Randy. ‘It'll make
a pretty story to tell old Dick, but I would
have been better satisfied if the incident
had not occurred. However, we can’t help
it.”

Consulting a city directory, he found that
Cudlipp & Company had their office near
the river-front on the principal thorough-
fare.

Boarding a car, they soon reached their
destination, which proved to be on the
ground floor of a large and exceedingly busy
establishment.

As they were in the act of entering the
main office, aman came hurrying out, and
brushed against Randy.

He halted as if to apologize; cast one
startled glance at the boys, and then, dart-
ing into the passing throng, vanished from
sight.

But not before Randy had
him.

“By all that’s wonderful !” exclaimed our
hero, greatly astonished. ‘How on earth
did he reach here ?”

“Who was it?” eagerly asked Ben.

“Guess.”

“T can’t. I haven’t any idea.”

“It was Morris Moran, Cudlipp’s man-
ager. Now, how do you suppose he got
here, and why didn’t he come on the
yacht ?”

“Morris Moran? Why, we left him on
Snake [sland night before last with the old
man.”

“Of course. It is certi uinly queer that he
should come here on the sly.”

“And skip out when he meets us.
der if he murdered gld Cudlipp,
out ?”

“Nonsense! that would be killing the
goose that lays the goldén egg in his case,’
re plied Ri andy, laughing heartily at his com-
panion’s suggestion. “No; he is here on
some errand. which he wishes to conceal
from us. He must have obtained a passage
across to some town on the Michigan shore,
and taken a train for this city. Well, I
haven’t any desire to mix up in his private
business.”

So saying, Randy entered the shipping-
office, and announeed himself ‘to the clerk
in charge.

“T have come for a package by order of
my employer, Mr. Cudlipp,” he explained,
giving the man his letter of instructions.

The subordinate read it, and then glanced
at our hero curiously.

“Ah! you are Randy, the boy-pilot, eh?
he asked, striving to conceal a peculiar
smile. ‘Well, we have a very valuable
package for the senior member of our firm,
and you will do well to guard it with extra-
ordinary care.’

“Those are
Randy, simply.

Turning toa safe, the clerk produced a
parcel covered with stout manilla paper, and
sealed with red wax in various places.

On lifting it Randy found that it was
quite heavy, and felt hard to the touch.

After signing a receipt, our hero started to
leave; but bethought himself of Moran’s
strange appearance, and asked the clerk if
he was in the ‘city.

ph

recognized

I won-
and lit

9”

my instructions,” .replied

NEWS.

S429

 

replied the man,
| returning to his work.
“That is certainly very mysterious,” ex-

claimed Randy, after he and Ben
| left the office of the shippimg firm.
manager came out of that place, I
tain.’
| +t may have been a case of mistaken
| identity,” suggested his companion.

‘Not to my knowledge,”
|
|
|
|
|
am cer-

to the wharf, and embarked in the yawl.

On Sasi g the Dragon, he
| come in the ca abin for a moment.

While stepping over the threshold,
| hero’s foot caught against some
and he stumbled into the room, dropping
the precious package in his efforts to save
himself.

The shock of the fall caused the paper to
tear, and there rolled out before the eyes of |
the astonished boys, four ordinary red |
bricks ! :

CHAPTER

RECEIVES A

asked Ben to

our

XIV.
RANDY TELEGRAM.
ELL, I'll be keelhauled !”
“Great Jumping Ginger !”
“What do vou think of that?”
“A valuable package, eh? Ha!
ha! ha!”

“What in the duse do they mean, playing
such a measly trick on me?’ exclaimed |
| Randy, becoming angry. ‘‘Four confounded |
| building bricks not worth two cents, and
very valuable.”

“There is something behind all this, old
boy,” said Ben, rather gravely. ‘‘Mr. Cud-
lipp is not the man to send his yacht hun-
dreds of miles on such a chase without a
reason,”

“I believe you-are right, chum. Either
the original package has been robbed, or
|} there is a mystery concerned in it that we
| know nothing about. I am going right back
to the shipping-office and find out all that I

can. Come along.”

A half hour later, Randy and Ben again
entered the office of Cudlipp & Company.

Our hero carried the package under his
arm, and walking straight up to the clerk he
had interviewed before, demanded :

‘What is the meaning of this, sir?”

“I do not understand you, captain,”
suavely replied the employee. ‘What do
you wish to know ?”

Unrolling the paper he had placed tem-
them before and said,
warmly :

“This is the ve aluable, extremely valuable,
package you intrusted to my care this morn-
ing. W hat hocus-pocus has been worked in
the matter, sir?”

“What did you mean by opening a sealed
package ?” demanded the clerk, in return.

‘I didn’t open it; the confounded thing
fell from my hands and opened itself.”

“Well, the package contains exactly what
Mr. Cudlipp telegraphed us to put ig it. Tf
you desire any further explanation, ask it of
him.”

Considerably relieved at hearing that the
mysterious package had not been robbed, |
Randy asked the clerk to seal it again, which
the latter did with enough care to warrant
the protection of a crown of precious
stones.

It was high noon before they again reached
the yacht, and on arriving alongside, Randy
saw with pleasure that most of the coal had
been embarked.

Carefully placing the package in a drawer,
our hero double locked the latter, and re-
marked to Ben :

“TJ have a theory about this matter,
which may be the correct one.”

“What is it?”

‘Why, it seems to me that it is simply a
put up job on Mr. Cudlipp’s part to get me
out of the way for a couple of days.”

“But why should he want you out of the
way ?” -

“That I don’t know,
much like it.”

«That would certainly be a very plausible
explanation if he had any reason for not
desiring your company for a while, but——”

Rat-tat ! rat-tat-tat !

Interrupted by a knock at the door, Ben
ceased speaking, and glanced in that direc-
tion just in time to see a messenger boy
appear with one of the familiar yellow en-
velopes in his hand.

“A telegram for Captain Randy Russell
of the-yacht Dragon,” said the lad.

“That's me,” spoke up Randy, taking the
missive. y

Opening it he read aloud :

“If you value the possession of a very im-
portant secret, call at City Hotel to- night, nine
o'clock, and ask for James Johnson. Your
whole life depends upon your prompt re-
sponse,”

the flerk's

eyes,

chum,

but it looks very

 

had finally |
«The |

Randy did not reply, ve walked on down |

obstacle, |

that grinning hyena of a clerk said it was |
Do z ©

porarily around the; bricks, Randy showed |

“James Johnson? Who in the duse is
jhe?” ¢€ imed the bewildered youth.
| «This is very queer. I don’t know anybody
by that name

‘Any answer?” asked the messenger boy.

“N-no ; I can’t see that it requires one,’
replied our hero, hesitatingly,

‘Well, we are popping from one mystery
into another,” continued Randy, after the
boy had left’ the eabin. “First, there was
|the matter of the package of bricks, and

10w a total stranger sends me a message
saying that he has an important secret con-
cerning me.

A robably it isn’t a stranger,” suggested
Ben. 3/4 -erhaps the name Johnson is sim-
ply fictitious.”
| ‘Possibly; but who can it be ?”
| “That can be settled only by going to the
| City Hotel to-night.”
| “But I don’t w ant to delay the yacht on
my-account. Mr. Cudlipp’s directions say
that I must sail as soon as the package is
| aboard.”
| “Well, you know best, Randy,” replied
Ben, “but if it was me, I'd settle the matter
before I left Detroit. I think you owe it to
yourself to do so and ——”

He was interrupted by the sudden
ance of Fulton, the engineer,
| briefly :

“Qoal’s aboard.”

‘When will you be ready to leave?”
asked Bandy.

“Six o’clock ; not before ; found break in
steam valve; must be repaired; do it by
that time ; unavoidable delay.’

“Glad to hear it,” promptly
Randy, to Fulton’s surprise.

«What ! glad to hear engine broke?
Humph ! funny boy,” exclaimed the latter;
t
CE

appear-
who said,

replied

hen, turning upon his heel, he left the
abin before Randy could explain,

Our hero and his chum laughed.

“J don’t wonder that he thinks you pe-
culiar,” grinned the latter. ‘‘And so would
old € ‘ndlipp if he heard that you were glad
jan accident had happened to the yacht.
| But it is a good thing for one reason. You
| can now prolong your stay in port until ten

o'clock, and have a plausible reason.”

“That is what I meant,” replied Randy.
“Tl just call upon this James Johnson,
and see what he has to say.

“Do I go along?”

“Certainly, old boy. There is no telling
what will happen, and I may need a friend
before the interview is over.

And he certainly did, as succeeding events
will prove.

That night, shortly after eight, the boys
took the ‘yawl and started for the shore.
They were alone, as the young pilot did not
wish to impose extra work upon his sailors,

Ben, who was a fair oarsman, did the
rowing, while Randy sat in the stern and
steered the little cratt.

It was fairly dark when they left the
Dragon, but the glittering lights along the
city ‘front served to guide them on their ’ way.
b Where the yacht lay at anchor was abreast
the coal wharves, and some little distance
from the main portion of the town.

The boys had barely started when Randy
discovered that it would require a long and
arduous pull against the current before they
could hope to reach the foot of the main
street.

“I believe we had better try to land along
here somewhere, and then take a car for the
balance of our trip to the hotel,” he finally
suggested.

As Ben was doing the hard work, he
naturally offered but little objection, ‘and
the bow of the yawl was turned shoreward
at once.

“Did you bring a revolver, Randy?”
young Beach, suddenly.

“Yes, why ?”

“We might need. it before the night is
over, that’s all. ‘he water front of almost
any city isa bad place to pass through after
dark.”

“Well, we are prepared if the roughs
tackle us,” replied Randy, indifferently.
“What Iam worried about is this mysterious
telegram. For the life of me I can't see
Ww hy anybody should interest himself i in my
welfare.’

“It is certainly curious, but youll soon
solve the problem, chum.”

They were now almost to the wharf, which
was marked with a dim gas-light.

Suddenly Ben, who was seated facing the
middle of the river, ceased rowing and,
pointing over Randy’s shoulder, whispered:

“There’s a boat following us. Ihave seen
it dodging in and out among those vessels.
during the last few minutes, but didn’ t want
to mention it until I was certain.’

Turning his head, Randy glanced in the
direction indicated, and saw the vague out-
line of a. small cutter rapidly approaching
them.

‘Tt may be the police, and then again it

|
|
:
|

asked

 

 
3430

may not, so we will prepare ourselves,” he
said, taking a revolver from his pocket, and
laying it, cocked-and ready for instant use,
upon the seat.

“Row ahead, Ben, and lay alongside of
the dock,” directed Randy. <‘‘We will only
excite suspicion by hanging around here.”

Ben gave a couple of quick tugs at the
oars, and the yaw! shot through the water
so quickly that Randy, who had turned at
that moment to watch their supposed pur-
suers, failed to swing the tiller at the proper
time.

The result was that the light, narrow craft
passed entirely under the wharf, from which
a few spiles were missing, and in the pas-
sage, knocked Ben to the bottom of the
boat.

Randy looked around just in time to duck
his head, and he accordingly escaped.

Before either of the boys could recover
from their surprise, the other craft dashed
up alongside of the wharf.

CHAPTER XV.
RANDY IS CAPTURED.

OT knowing but what the strangers
might prove to be river-thieves, or
some other equally undesirable ac-
quaintances, Randy concluded to

conceal their whereabouts for the time being
if possible.

Reaching over, he gave Ben a warning
shake, and whispered:

‘Don’t make any noise until we see who
they are.”

Just then a vaguely familiar voice came to
their ears, saying:

‘Where in blazes did they go, do you sup-
pose? The yawl was directly in front of us,
and then it suddenly disappeared.”

“By Jinks! it gits me, captain,” replied
the first speaker’s companion. ‘‘It looks
kinder like they’ve flew away. Air ye real
sure ye saw them around yer?”

“Of course I am, you old fool. Didn’t we
see them leave the yacht in the cutter and
row ashore. I’d bet my last dollar, it was
the Dragon’s boat, and both boys were in
it. Iknow them too well to make a mis-
take.”

“Well, whar hev they gone to?”

“That is what I want to know, and I am
going to find out, too.. Boats can’t take
wings and soar into the clouds, so it must be
near here.” j

Under the wharf, Randy and his com-
panion listened to the above conversation in
amazement.

“Who on earth can it be?” breathed Ben,
with his lips close to Randy's ear. ‘He
says he knows us, and the fellow’s voice
certainly sounds familiar.”

“Just keep quiet and I'll see if I can get
a glimpse of them,” replied our hero in the
same tone.

Reaching up, he caught hold of a beam,
and gently pulled the boat toward the open-
ing.

Just as he was in the act of peering out,
one of the strangers exclaimed:

“By George! I'll bet I know where they
are. There is a broken place in the side of
the wharf, and they must have shoved their
boat in there.”

“Probably diskivered they were bein’ fol-
lered, eh ?”

“Yes; but speak low, or they'll hear us,
Turn the boat’s head this way, and we’ll
take a peep.”

‘Shall I flash the lantern ?” :

“Not yet; wait until I give the word.
Shove her over this way alittle more. That’s
it—steady now. Uncover the lantern.”

There was a brief delay, and then a sud-
den burst of light illumined the space be-
neath the wharf.

The scene thus exposed formed a most
thrilling tableau.

Within a few feet of each other were the
two boats, one entirely under the dock, and
the other with its bow just inside the line
of spiles.

Standing in the stern of the Dragon’s
x was Randy, with a revolver clutched in

is right hand, aiming directly at the fore-
most occupant of the outer boat.

The latter individual had shrunk back ‘at
the sight of the threatening weapon, and
now stood glaring at the two boys with a
baffled expression on his face.

He was, indeed, well known to Randy and
Ben, for it was none other than Hendrick,
the ex-captain of the Osprey.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” coolly remarked our
hero.

“Yes, it’s me, consarnyou !” growled the
fellow.

“Well, what do you want? What do you
mean by following us around this river?”
demanded Randy, warmly.

“Who is plowing you? .Can’t I row up

 

and down the Detroit River if I choose
to hie

“Bosh! that kind of talk won’t work with
us, you miserable scoundrel! You have
been watching the yacht to get a chance at
me, and you know it. LIoverheard you say
to that mate of yours not two minutes ago
that you saw us leave the yacht, and: row
ashore. Now, we are here, and I want to
know what you want?”

‘““Who are you calling a scoundrel?” blus-
tered Hendrick, moving his right hand
toward his pocket, but Randy speedily put
a stop to the action by threatening to shoot
if he did not desist.

“Now, I want to tell you one thing for the
good of your health, Captain Hendrick,”
spoke up the boy-pilot, firmly. ‘I have
you at my mercy now, and I ought to turn
both of you over to the police, but I haven’t
any time to waste on such cattle. I will let
you go this time, but if you ever run across
my path again, you will suffer for it. Now,
back away from that opening, and permit
us to pass.”

This bold speech, coming as it did from a
mere boy, caused Hendrick to fairly tremble
with rage,

But our hero held the whip hand, and the
petty rascal sullenly motioned his compan-
ion—a villainous-looking dock loafer—to
shove their cutter out of the way.

The ex-skipper of the Osprey could not
refrain from muttering a threat, however,
but Randy paid no heed to his vaporings.

“Push the yawl out, Ben,” he said, hur-
riedly. ‘Don’t let them get out of sight, as
they might try a sudden attack.”

Ben attempted to obey, but in placing his
oar against a partially submerged timber, he
slipped and fell across the gunwale of the
boat.

The sudden and unexpected heeling under
Ben’s weight caused Randy to lose his grasp,
and he almost tumbled into the river, barely
saving himself by grasping an overhead
beam.

As he did so the light yawl slipped from
under him, leaving him suspended at arm’s
length with his feet touching the water.

In reaching for the beam, Randy was com-
pelled to drop his revolver, and to his dis-
may, he heard it splash into the river.

All this did not occur without creating
some noise, and Hendrick must have over
heard it, as his harsh voice came to Randy’s
ears, exclaiming :

“Something has happened in there.
Quick ! shove the cutter in again ; perhaps
we can succeed after all.”

Knowing that he meant trouble, our hero
hurriedly called ont to Ben to bring the
yawl, but received no answer.

“By George! this is a pretty fix,” mut-
tered Randy, thrusting out one foot in hope
of touching the boat. ‘‘What in the duseis
the matter with Ben ?”

He had little time for idle conjecture, as
at that moment the bow of Hendrick's cut-
ter entered the opening, and struck against
him.

It was not too dark for the ex-skipper to
distinguish the state of affairs. With a sup-
pressed cry of joy, he grasped the young
pilot by the throat, and dragged him down
by main force.

“Ah, ha! we have the scamp at last,”
chuckled Hendrick.

Although Randy struggled with all his

strength, he was speedily overpowered by

the two men and thrown into the bottom
of the cutter, bound and gagged.

“Now for the other kid,” whispered Hen-
drick, savagely. “I owe him a grudge, and
mean to get even while I have the chance.
Show the light, man.” ;

His companion uncovered the lantern,
and then held it so the rays would illumine
the little space.

Not three yards away from them was the
Dragon’s yawl, but one glance showed that
it was empty.

Ben had completely disappeared.

“Where has he gone, do you think?”
muttered Hendrick, peering into the shad-
ows near the river's edge. ‘

“Dunno. Guess he must have fell over-
board and drowned hisself,’’ replied the
dock loafer. ‘

“T hope so; but we must be certain, or
it won't be safe to take this boy to the
house. Push the cutter in farther.”

A hurried search did not reveal the slight-
est trace of the missing lad, so the ex-skipper
gave it up, and ordered his mate to pull
away from the spot.

“We've got the prize, anyway, so we
needn’t bother our heads about the other
kid,” he added, with a grim chuckle.

“Want to go straight for the house, boss?”

“Yes, and just as quick as you can.”

“All right; we'll be there in a jiffy,” was
the reply, and, after backing out from the

wharf, the oarsman bent to his task with}

such effect that in an incredibly short space

GOooD NEWS.

4

 

of time they were skirting the other bank of
the river.

During the last few moments a thick fog
had gathered, and it was only by an occa-
sional light twinkling ashore in some dwell-
ing that they were enabled to find their
way.

Hinally Hendrick, who had taken his sta-
tion in the bow, called out softly:

“Way enough; turn her now and let her
float in shore. Good! another stroke and
we'll reach the pier. Ah, that’s it. Now
help me carry he kid.”

With a slight bump the bow of the cutter
touched the end of a short pier jutting out
from the river bank. Both men sprang out,
and while the dock loafer was fastening the
boat, Hendrick picked up their prisoner,
and dragged him ashore.

A moment later the ex-skipper’s compan-
ion came to his assistance, and the two car-
ried Randy into a little hut built at the
shore end of the pier.

“Fasten the door, and then show us a
light here,” commanded Hendrick.

“Hadn't I better take a squint around and
see if anybody follered us?”

“No; the fog is too thick, man, for us to
fear pursuit.”

‘Well an’ good. Yer the boss,” growled
the fellow, exposing the lantern, which he
had brought from the cutter.

Our hero took a swift glance at the apart-
ment, and then prepared to face his captors.

He saw that he was in a rudely furnished
voom about ten feet square, and evidently
the sole apartment of some home-made
shanty, probably constructed by the dock
loafer as a temporary hut.

Further investigation was cut short by
Hendrick, who advanced and removed the
gag from Randy’s mouth.

“T'll do that much to make you comforta-
ble, my bold pilot,” he said, ‘‘but if you at-

; tempt to shout, back it will go, and you'll

get a licking in the bargain.”

“For what reason have you brought me }

here, Hendrick?” asked our hero, calmly
looking his captor in the eye. ‘‘What have
I done to you to cause such peculiar treat-
ment ?”

‘You took my job from me, confound
you!” replied the ex-skipper.

‘That wasn’t my fault,” Randy answered,
earnestly. ‘‘Didn’t I tell Mr. Cudlipp that
I would not take the command of his yacht
if it threw you out of a position ?”

‘Yes, but I don’t care. You hadn’t any
business whining around him and working
your points. I was doing well and making
money until you showed up and spoiled it
all. But now I reckon I have even a better
chance, but it comes from my keeping my
eyes and ears open. I don’t mind telling
you, now that you can’t git away, that you
are Worth about ten thousand dollars to
me.

“Ten thousand dollars ?” thought Randy,
glancing at the speaker in surprise. ‘What
can the man mean ?” :

Then he added aloud, laughing grimly:

“Tam glad I am worth that to some per-
son, indeed. But will you oblige me by
explaining ?”

“IT don’t mind. I’ve got you now, and I
am not going to let you slip until the dollars
are in my hands,” replied Hendrick, in a
satisfied manner. ,

Seating himself upon a rude chair, he
continued:

“Your name is Randy Russell, isn’t it ?”

“Yes; to the best-of my belief.”

“Where were you born ?”

‘T don’t know,” answered our hero, sur-
prised at the strange question.

“Well, Ido!” said Hendrick, chuckling.

“You do?” echoed the boy- pilot in in-
tense amazement. ‘Do you know my——?”

“Yes, I know your parents, and all about
you,” interrupted Hendrick, ‘‘and it is that
knowledge which is going to make me rich,
d’ye see?” ¢

A question as to whether they were still
alive was trembling on Randy's lips when
he happened to glance at a little window
set in the side of the nearest wall.

To his joy he saw a face pressed against
the glass. It was that of his chum, Ben
Beach, who, as Randy looked, made a warn-
ing signal, and disappeared.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
gc gts
“HE SAID NOTHIN’, MUM.”

A woman said to her servant girl: .

“Bridget, go out and see if Mr, Marks,
the butcher at the corner, has pigs’ feet.”

The dutiful servant went out, and re-
turned.

“Well, what did he say?” asked the
mistress.

“Sure, he said nothin’, mum.”

“Has he got pigs’ feet?”

“Faith, 1 couldn’t see,
got his boots on.”

muimn—he has

 

[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.]

TOM TRUXTON'S SCHOOLDAYS:

OR,

FUN AND MYSTERY AT PICKLE ACADEMY

+

BY HARVEY HICKS,
Author of “Mat Merriman Abroad,” etc.

{“TomM TRUXTON’S SCHOOLDAYS” was commenced
in No. 203, Back numbers can be obtained of all
News Agents.}

tinaccadig testes
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CONCLUSION.

&, HEN Tom and his companion
WAN f, saw the two men fall from the
edge of the gravel pit, they
rushed to the place where they
had struck, expecting to find their life-
less bodies; but, as it happened, both had
fallen into a bed of fine gravel, and, save
for a few scratches, they were uninjured.
Nicholas was slightly dazed, and offered
no further resistance to the boys when
they seized him.

Walton Graves took an active part in
the second capture, and could scarcely be
restrained from wreaking summary ven-
geance upon his enemy.

While they were binding Mr. Flint’s
arms, Murphy appeared at the edge of
the pit, and immediately rejoined them.

He seemed greatly chagrined, and ex-
claimed:

“Confound those fellows! I chased them
almost a mile, and they gave me the slip
at last.”

“Who do you mean?” asked Tom; “Cyrus
Holt, and the rest.”

“Yes. When this stranger and I came
out of the tunnel we saw your prisoner
and the other scamps quarreling up above
there. We instantly gave chase, and \our
man was caught in a jiffy, but I wasn’t
so lucky.”

“Did Kane get away, too?” eagerly
asked Chester.

“Who, the boy? Yes, he skinned with
the rest.”

“Well, we’ll have the police \on their
tracks in an hour,” said Tom. “For my
part, I am tired of playing detective.”

“Tshould think you would be,” chuckled
Murphy. “What with your adventures
above the earth and under it, you ought
to have enough to last a while. Well,
you have caught the principal scoundrel,
anyway.”

“That we have,” replied our hero, cast-
ing a glance of withering contempt at
the shrinking figure of his guardian. “It
is worth while losing the others just to
bring this cowardly scoundrel to justice.
I had hard work believing that he who
was once my father’s trusted clerk could
act in such a villainous manner, but it is
plain to me now.”

“Tt will be as plain as the sun above
your head when I tell my story, Tom,”
spoke up Walton Graves,

“And that will be?”

“When I have that man beforea judge.”

Our hero saw that Graves had some
reason for delay, so he did not press him.

After a short consultation it was de
cided to hire a couple of wagons, and go
direct to Laketon, which was only eleven
miles from the gravel pit.

Murphy, who had lost all interest in
the proceedings when he found that little
prospect remained of further fighting, re-
solved to secure his parachute, and return
to the fair at Dodd’s Corners.

Tom tried to persuade him to go with
them, but he refused, so our hero ex-
pressed his gratitude in appropriate
terms, and offered to pay the aeronaut
for his loss of time, but Murphy would
not allow it.

If it is not anticipating, it will be well
to say that Tom sent him a valuable °
resent several months later, and always
held the generous-hearted man in grate-

ful remembrance,

After rewarding the laborers for their
services, the party started for Laketon,
and arrived there just before dark. .

Nicholas Flint was secured in the lock-
up, and a strong guard placed over him
by the constable.

Word was dispatched all through the
surrounding country to keep a careful
watch for the fugitives, and a couple of
experienced detectives came from New
York to work on the case.

After this had been attended to, Tom,
Chester and Walton Graves went to the
village hotel, and over a generous meal
the stranger told part of his story.

“T will Jeave the most interesting part
of it until we bring Nicholas Flint before
a judge in New York city,” he began,
“because I have a very grave charge to
make against your guardian. I will now
cy, tell you how I disappeared in the
city after meeting you, and the subsequent
events.”

He described his interview with Mr,

 
Flint in the library, and related how he |
had been struck down without warning
by the scoundrel, adding:

“From that moment until a week ago
my mind was a blank. The blow must
have injured my brain, because I remem-
ber nothing until one morning I regained
my senses in that stone house. It did not
take me long to understand matters
concluded to lead my keeper—Cyrus Holt
—to believe that I was still insane.”

“Why didn’t they put you out of the
way at once?” asked Chester, deeply in-
terested. :

“The only reason I can give is that
Nicholas Flint was afraid to commit
murder, or be a party to it. He threat-
ened to doit a dozen times, but changed
his mind. I know that he had any
amount of schemes by which to dispose
of Tom here, but he let week after week
slip by, and it was only yesterday that he
finally made up his mind to inveigle him
into the stone house.”

“How did you manage to send that
letter?” asked Tom,

“That was simply a stroke of luck.
They took me out in the yard every few
days, and, after I had recovered, I cast
about fora means by which to commu-
nicate with you. I had heard them say
that you wasascholar at Pickle Academy,
and I knew that it was only a few miles
distant. After thinking over the matter,
I made the kite with some scraps of wall-
paper, and tied the note to the tail. They
thought it was a crazy freak, but it
worked to their undoing.”

“Tt certainly did,” replied Tom.

A short while later the party arose and
prepared for the trip to New York.

Tom sent a note to Professor Pickle,
partially explaining the circumstances of |
the case, and in due time they took the
train with their prisoner. _

On arrival in the city, Nicholas Flint
was committed to the Tombs, and Tom
and his party went toa hotel until the
following morning.

By advice of Walton Graves, our hero
secured tlie services of a prominent’ law-
yer, who took full charge of the case.

It was several days before the trial oc-
curred and during that time Tom was
placed in possession of his own property,
with the lawyer as a temporary guardian,

When the morning arrived on which
Nicholas Fint, the well-known banker,
was to stand trial on certain charges,
the court-rcom was packed to the very
doors,

After the legal preliminaries had been
concluded, the first witness for the prose-
cution was called, and Walton Graves
took the stand.

He was asked to state all he knew of
the case without fear or favor.

Directing his eyes toward the prisoner,
he began:

“Six years ago I was the night watch-
man in Thomas Truxton’s bank on Wall
street, and that man was his private
secretary. One night—the seventeenth of
January—they came to the bank, and
asked me to remain near the front door
for a half hour, as they wished to look
over some of the books. I obeyed, but
hadn’t been there more than a few mo-
ments when I heard a stifled cry from the
back room, and the sound of breaking
glass. I rushed back, and saw Mr, Trux-
ton lying on the floor in the agonies of
death. : aed

“The prisoner was standing within a few
feet of him, pale as a ghost and terribly
agitated. He helda paper in his hands
partly opened, and even in my excitement
I was able to see that it was a will. He
bade me bring a doctor at once, and
stated that the banker had fallen in a fit
of apoplexy.

“While away on the errand, I recalled
the peculiar appearance of the banker’s
face, and it reminded me of a little son
of mine who had died from a corrosive
poison.”

The witness paused, and a murmur of
excitement ran through the crowded
court-room. : Z

“This is a very serious comparison,
witness,” exclaimed the judge, gravely.

“When I returned with the doctor,”
continued Walton Graves, not heeding
the remark, “the prisoner drew me to one
side, and asked me not to. mention the
paper he had held in his hands until he
gave me permission to do so.

“That increased my suspicion, and I
flatly accused him of poisoning the
banker. He denied it, but in such an
agitated manner that I knew I had struck
the truth. To make a long story short, I
confess that I allowed him to bribe me
into silence, and the following week i
left for Australia.”

Before he could proceed further with
his remarkable story, a loud cry rang out
from the bar, and’ Nicholas Flint was
seen,to totter and fall to the floor.

After the confusion had subsided, it
was found that he was insane,

The doctor in attendance stated that he
had evidently succumbed to the hervous
strain, but as the vast audience filed
through the doors, more than one said

 

 

that it was a well-merited retribution,

Goop

Walton Graves was asked to finish his
story in the private room of the judge,
and, in obedience to the request, he
stated how he had at last felt remorse for
allowing the crime to go unpunished,
and had returned to the United States
with the sole purpose of bringing Nicholas
Flint to justice.

“Why do you suppose Mr. Truxton
made such a peculiar will?” asked the
judge.

“It was a well-known fact around the
bank that Flint was in possession of an
important business secret, and I found
out afterward that it would have hurt
the banker’s standing on Wall street.”

The whole secret was out. Nicholas
Flint, in his capacity of private secretary,
had learned a valuable secret, and had
used it as a power by which to enrich
himself. He had not been satisfied with
the possibility of getting a certain sum
of money, but coveted the banker’s whole
fortune. He was wise enough to know
that he could not inherit the money
directly without exciting suspicion so he
had the will drawn as already stated, and
then plotted to kill the heir.

Tom was filled with horror at the
recital of his father’s tragic death, and
it must be confessed that he viewed the
villain’s sudden collapse mentally with
a feeling of satisfaction.. It was human
nature,

The day following the trial, news came
from the upper part of the State that the
fugitives had been cornered in the woods,
and inthe ensuing fight Barney had re-
ceived a wound which resulted fatally
within a few hours. Cyrus Holt was
captured, and sentenced to a term in the
penitentiary, Rufus Kane made good his

‘escape, and Nicholas Flint was placed in

an asylum.

Little remains to be told.

Tom decided to return to Pickle Academy
for the uncompleted portion of his second
term, and when the question of guardian-
ship came up he begged the court to ap-
point his good friend, Professor Pickle,
which was accordingly done.

Tom secured Walton Graves a position
in the city, and made it a point to see
that he continued in prosperity.

In due time Tom was received back
into Mrs. Simper’s good graces, and, it is
hardly necessary to say, he grasped the
opportunity to renew his friendship with
Violet.

His later adventures made him more of
a hero than ever with Mary Ann, and she
was never weary of describing his race
with the bull-dog for the stone wall, and
also how she had captured the pig at the
picnic.

Tom returned to the academy, and, a
few months later, he and Chester grad-
uated with high honors,

His future adventures on the ocean will
soon be given, and until that time let us
bid him and the others adieu.

(THE END.)

HOW HE PAID HIS PASSAGE.

BY W. BERT FOSTER.

—--

OME now, hustle out 0’ here.”
“T an’t doin’ any harm.”
“You git out, [ say, an’ don’t ye
talk back to me !”
“Please, mister -——?’

“Git!”

Big Bill Bronson, the dock watchman,
raised his heavy hand threateningly, and the
forlorn little chap whom he had addressed
in such rough tones, climbed painfully out
of the box of straw in which-he had taken
refuge, as he hoped, for the night.

“We don’t want no young wharf rats like
you round here,” Big Bill declared. ‘So,
git along with you.”

It was still early in the evening. Perhaps
if Terry Carson had waited until it had
grown darker he might have ensconced
himself in the box unobserved, and spent
the night in comparative comfort. But he
had been so tired that he Had risked seeking
his “lodging” early, with the above result,

For days he had tramped the streets of
the seaport town, looking for a job. But
nobody seemed to want him, or his services.
The past fortnight had been a terrible ex-
perience to young Terry.

“T warn’t goin’ for to do any harm, sir,’
he said, having gotten out of the box of
straw.

“I dunno whether you was or not,”
growled Bill. ‘There’s too many of the
like o’ you round, Come, move on, or I'll
hand ye over to the cop.”

At this threat Terry had to give up all
hope of his lodging and moved painfully
away.

‘I just hate this town,” he muttered.
“There an’t no place init for me. I wish
I could get away from it, so I do.”

His eyes wandered across the broad docks

 

NEWS.

to the shipping beyond—tall-masted, deep-
sea vessels all.

“[T wish I could get aboard one o’ them
boats an’ just sail away from this mean old
place.”

It was not too dark yet to reveal the decks
pretty clearly. The fading light revealed
Terry’s sturdy figure, too. He was a strong,
well-built chap of fifteen.

‘“Jimminy crickets! I b’lieve Dll try it,”
he muttered, after an instant’s silent scrutiny
of the individual on the quarter of the
nearest craft, and then, despite the fact that
Big Bill, the watchman, shouted after him,

‘he turned away from the great gate, which |

was the only entrance by land to the dock,
and marched up the narrow gang-plank to
the vessel’s deck.

Captain Josh Carlton, who was pacing the
deck witha huge cigar between his teeth,
suddenly became conscious of the presence
of somebody beside himself upon the quar-
ter, by a shrill voice, which piped out:

“Mister, I say !”

“Who the dickens are you?” demanded
the captain, in surprise, gazing down upon
young Terry from his height of six-foot-
four.

“Terrence Carson.”

“Well, you little sawed-off, what d’ye
want here?”

Terry drew himself up to his full height.
His “stubbedness” was a tender point.

‘T want to ship,” he declared.

“You want to ship! haw! haw! haw!

Captain Carlton fairly shook with laughter.

«Why, your head hardly reaches the rail,”
he said, taking the boy by the arm and
twisting him about with his face to the
shore. ‘‘Now, sonny, that’s the way ashore.
You git !”

Poor Terry, urged by the captain’s vigor- |

ous shove, walked slowly back to the wharf,
and thence to the street. Once outside the
gate, he stamped his illy-shod foot deter-
minedly upon the rough pavement.

“JT just will do it!” he declared.
can’t keep me off their old vessel, however
hard they try. I’m going to sea in the Cal-
ypso, I am.”

Thus it happened that, half an hour later.
when Captain Carlton left the Calypso and
went up town to look over the men whom
the shipping agent had gotten together for
him, leaving the vessel in sole charge of the
steward, a ragged figure, sneaking along
beside the piled up cases on the dock,
darted across the gang-plank and onto the
Calpyso’s deck.

Neither the steward nor Bill Bronson, the
burly dock watchman, saw him, for they
were conversing very earnestly together
forward. Terry was totally unfamiliar with
aship, having always lived back in the
country; so he made the mistake of enter-
ing the cabin for concealment.

It was a nicely furnished apartment, for
Captain Carlton was quite a fastidious man,
and at one end a heavy curtain hung before
a small lavatory. Behind this curtain
Terry darted. He had heard Bill say that
the Calypso would sail early the next morn-
ing, and he believed that once the vessel got
out of the harbor, she would not be put
about for the sake of landing him again.

Hardly had he ensconced himself behind
this drapery, when he detected the sound of
a footstep softly descending the companion
stairs. A moment later the steward, a low-
browed, snaky looking Italian, appeared.
It struck Terry at once that the man’s man-
ner seemed odd. He appeared to be fearful of
the presence of some unknown person, and
glanced apprehensively around him as he
stepped into the center of the room under
the swinging lamp.

And what followed made the boy’s sus-
picions a surety. The Italian had not en-
tered the cabin during the absence of the
captain and officers for any legitimate pur-
pose.

Assuring himself, as he supposed, that he
was unobserved, the steward crept softly
from door to door, and opening each, peered
into the several state-rooms for the purpose
of seeing if any were by chance occupied.
Confident that this was not the case, he
went back to the foot of the companion-way
and whistled, shrilly.

Evidently this was a signal, for at oncé a
heavy step crossed the deck and descended
to the cabin. Terry, round-eyed with be-
wilderment at these proceedings, peered out
from behind the curtains and discovered
that the new-comer was none other than
the watchman, Bill Bronson.

“Ket ees alla quiet, Bill,” the steward
declared, reassuringly, as Big Bill glanced
suspiciously about. ‘Not asoula here. We
ees alla right.”

Bill growled in reply, and stepped at once
to the center of the room, shoving aside a
heavy chart table which stood there. Be-
neath the table was a square of matting
which seemed but lightly tacked down, for

“They |

 

with one twitch the watchman ripped it off
the floor, revealing a trap-door beneath.

“Dere she ees, Bill,” exclaimed the Ital-
ian, exultantly,

He stooped and raised the trap hastily.
The burly watchman squeezed himself into
the hole with much grunting and profanity,
and having gotten his head below the level
of the floor, began at once to hand out
packages, each wrapped carefully in black
enamel cloth. :

“Work quick, "Tonio. No tellin’ when
them fellers’ll git "back. The boat's right
under the quarter.”

The steward’s reply was to gather several
packages in his arms and hastily ascend to
the deck. s

Terry, meanwhile, had been doing what
he called “some tall thinking.” He knew
that something remarkably shady was in
progress. He could not guess what was in
the packages, but that it was something
valuable he did not doubt. The treacher-
ous steward and watchman were robbing
the Calypso’s commander, or her owners.

Quick as a flash, when Antonio had dis-
appeared, Terry darted out from behind the
curtain and slammed down the trap-door,
shooting the strong bolt at once into place,

| thus securing the trap firmly. Big Bill was

a prisoner.

The muffled sounds of the watchman’s
voice eould not reach the deck, but Terry
reached it almost at a single bound. Anto-
nio’s figure was faintly visible as he leaned
over the rail tugging at the painter of the
small boat, which had become fouled, The
packages had been laid on the deck while
he was thus engaged.

Terry’s mind worked quickly, and the
moment his feet touched the deck he saw
his chance for overcoming the second river
pirate. He lowered his head and charged
across the deck like a bolt from a cannon,

His head caught Antonio just below the
waistband, and although the shock well-nigh
dislocated his neck and sent him flat upon
the deck, it also drove the light body of the
astonished steward flying overboard, where
he landed frog-fashion in the dirty dock
water.

He might have come back and easily over-
powered the boy and released his compan-
ion, but Antonio didn’t know that. Never
for an instant doubting that the gigantic
Captain Carlton had returned unexpectedly
and kicked him overboard, the steward
swam hastily to a neighboring pier and
made good his escape.

Not so Big Bill, however. Captain Carl-
ton and his two officers found him almost
suffocated in the secret compartment, while
a greatly demoralized boy stood. guard above
with a boat-hook almost as heavy as himself.

When Bill had been pulled out of his
prison and marched off under a guard of
two blue-coated policemen to a much safer
place of durance, Captain Carlton turned to
young Terry.

“Well, shorty,” he said, jovially, placing
his big hands upon the boy’s shoulders, ‘‘so
you're the lad who wanted to ship as an A.
B., eh? Got over it?” :

‘No, sir. I came down here intending to
hide away till after you had sailed. I want
to get away from this town, so I do.”

“And youshall. You’ve saved the owners
a pretty penny,” he added, touching the
packages strewn about the floor, with “his
foot, ‘‘and I reckon they won't begrudge
you your passage. I guess he’s paid his
fare, sure enough, an’t he, boys ?”’

And the two inferior officers agreed
warmly. However, before that first trip was -
over, ‘erry had made himself so useful to
the Calypso’s commander, that he made
many more on.the same vessel. In fact, he
is stlll with the good ship, and is probably
one of the youngest second mates sailing
out of the port of Rivermouth.

—_~+- + —___
STORMIEST REGION KNOWN.

The waters of Cape Horn have never
been unvisited by storms for more than
a week ortwo at a stretch within the
memory of man, Standing on the out-
post of the world, Cape Horn is the meet-
ing-place of ocean currents of very differ-
ent temperatures, from the icy cold
waters of the Antarctic drift to the
warmth of the Brazilian and Peruvian -
return currents. The prevailing winds
are from the North-west and West, and
these, coming from the warm regions of
the Pacific, condense into fogs, which the
sailors call “Cape Horn blankets,” and
which are the sure forerunners of storms.
The extremely low level to which the
glaziers of Terra del Fuego descend, the
perpetual congelation of the subsoil, the
meeting of conflicting winds at very
different temperatures, are all direct or
indirect causes combining to make this
the most constantly stormy region in the
world. -

 
 

 

3432

 

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16, 1894.

 

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AGENTS.—Our responsibility for remittances apues
only to such as are sent to us direct, and we will not
guarantee the iability of any subscription agency
or postmaster.

All letters should be addressed to

STREET & SMITIVS GOOD NEWS,
27 & 29 Rose Street, N.Y.

 
     
 
 

 

  

 
   

 

 

 

Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be
Obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not
have them please send direct to this oflice and we
will supply them by mail on receipt of price.

 

 

Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line,

 

Contents of this Number.
SERIAL STORIES.
“The Boy From the West,” by Harry
Dangerfield.
by. Ernest A.

“Blue and White Sam,”
Young.

“The Pluck of a Pilot,’ by Lieut. Lionel
Lounsberry. ¢

‘Joe the Surveyor,” by Edward Strate-
meyer. ~

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

“Captured at Sea,” by Clarence Converse.

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

SHORT STORIES.

“An Unexpected Meeting.”

“How He Paid His Passage,” by W. Bett
Foster.

“Bob’s Tramp,” by Will Lisenbee.

“The Bugle Call for Aid” —The Good News
Story Tellers’ Club. ;

REGULAR DEPARTMENTS.
“Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur
Sewall.
*Ticklets,” by Chas. W. Foster.
“Mail Bag,” ‘“IlMxchange Department,”
z “Club Notices,” ete.

 

 

COMING ATTRACTIONS!

 

A host of good serials are in store for the
readers of Goop News, Among them we can
mention, for early publication :

A FINE GYPSY SERIAL,
By Joun H. Wurrson ;

A THRILLING HUNTING STORY,

By Wii114mM Murray Graypon ;

ANOTHER TOM TRUXTON SERIAL,

By Harvey Hicxs ;

A GREAT CIRCUS STORY,

By Vicror Sr. Cuxatrr,

And also serials by Emerson Bell, Walden F.
Sharp, Enrique H. Lewis, and all our old fa-

vorites.

TELL YOUR: FRIENDS:
—_——- > 0 em
* A TILT WITH PAT.

 

The butcher was shoveling a big drift
of snow from the walk im front of his
shop when Pat came along and asked for
the job. Thé butcher refused. Pat per-
sisted, :

“No,” said the butcher. “How will [
get exercise if I let you shovel it?”

“Hating your meat,” rejoined Pat, as
he shouldered his shovel and marched on,

     

 

GoonD

When Animals Were Tried For Their
Crimes,

ISPORTING himself behind the bars
of a cage in the Aquarium at Ber-
lin, some few years ago, was a Gib-
raltar monkey that had been tried
by the British Crown, with all the form and
ceremony of law, and had been found
guilty of murder in the first degree, and
sentenced to death.

His female companion in the crime had
been legally tried and executed for the same
offense, but her husband succeeded in avoid-
ing a similar fate in a manner that reflected
great credit on his simian shrewdness, and,
at the same time, left the Crown’s lawyers
in a serious quandary.

The two monkeys, it seems, had found
the infant child of an English officer sleep-
ing in its cradle alone in an isolated house
near the Rock of Gibraltar. They had
promptly proceeded to devour it, and though
caught red-handed in the act, could not be
killed at once because of an old statute, since
repealed, which expressly forbade it.

They belonged to the famous tribe of Gib-
raltar monkeys, the only wild monkeys in
Europe, which infested the rocks and woods
about the renowned fortress. By the statate
in question they were protected from all mo-
lestation, because of their supposed useful-
ness to the garrison.

These monkeys were of so suspicious and
watchful a nature, that upon the approach
of any one, or upon hearing the least un-
usual sound, they would immediately raise
such a screeching and howling that the gar-
rison within the fortress were alarmed and
put upon their guard, and thus it was be-
lieved they could assist in preventing a mili-
tary surprise.

As the two murderers, therefore, could not
be dispatched without legal warrant, it be-
came necessary that they should be con-
demned according to due process of law,
and by a jury of their peers. An indict-
ment was drawn, and after the usual pre-
liminaries and delays, they were arraigned
in open court and a jury sworn.

Counsel was appointed to defend them,
witnesses pro and con were examined, and
the lawyers on both sides made arguments.
The jury, without leaviug the box, returned
a verdict of guilty as charged in the indict-
ment, and the judge pronounced sentence
of death.

As hanging was obviously inappropriate,
the court decided that the sentence should
be carried out by giving the condemned
strychnia in figs.

The female, with the impulsiveness of her
sex, ate eagerly and died. Her lord and
master suspected something was up. He
tore the figs about, detected a foreign
substance, scratched it out as well as he
could, merely tasted the food, and declined
to eat any more.

His counsel at once claimed that uccord-
ing to legal principles no new sentence could
be pronounced without violating the prin-
ciple that no one shall be twice put in jeop-
ardy of life or limb for the same offense, and
the court held the point well taken. ‘The
convict was eventually removed to a foreign
jurisdiction, and in time became the pride
and delight of the German Aquarium,

In 1510, the inhabitants of the diocese of
Autun, in France, indicted the rats that
were eating up the town.supply of barley.
A summons was issued to the rats to appear
in court, but apparently wasreturned non est,
for they failed to appear.

Trial proceeded without them, and Chas-
seneuz, a local attorney, was appointed to
defend them. He raised the point that as
the rats were scattered throughout the prov-
ince, one summons was not sufficient to
reach them, and that under such cireum-
stances a verdict could not stand. The
court postponed the case, and granted a
second summons to be read from all the pul-
pits in the diocese. Chasseneuz defended
his clients with great earnestness, and upon
their second failure to appear argued that
the length and difficulty of the journey, and
the fact that his clients all had to come on
foot, and that many were aged and infirm,
ought to excuse their non-appearance and
not prejudice the court. He also based his
defense on considerations of humanity and
public policy.

“What could be more unjust,” said he,
“than such general proscriptions. which
overwhelm whole families in a common ruin;
which visit the crimes of parents on their
innocent offspring, ahd which destroy in-
discriminately the good and the bad, the
strong and the weak, and those whom tender
years, or infirmity, have rendered incapable
of offending?”

What the effect of this eloquent plea was,
our historian sayeth not, but it must have

oo

 

   

 

NEWS.

been successful, for Chasseneuz was so |
pleased with its effect, that he afterward |
wrote a big book, in which he treated this |
subject from every possible and impossible |
standpoint, except, of course, the stand-
point of ordi ense,

His book was not the only one, either ;
for the custom of giving animals a court
trial, improbable as it may seem, had at-
tained such proportions in those times that
at Lyons, in 1668, Gaspard Bailly, advocate
of the Senate of Savoy, published a book
giving the legal forms and proper procedure
for the prosecution of animals.

In Savoy, in 1587, certain weevil, or wine
grubs, had become very destructive in the
vineyard of an influential citizen, and he |
called upon the courts to protect him. A
prosecution was begun against the insects,
and counsel for them appointed by the
court.

The argument for the defense took up
many hours, and was pressed with such ar-
dor that the public prosecutor became ex-
hausted,-and offered to enter a nolle pros in
the case, if counsel for the insects would |
guarantee the State that they would remove
to a locality fixed by the court.

The insects were given two days to con-
sider this offer, and at the end of that time
their counsel declined to accept that propo-
sition because the locality was a desert. The ,
prosecutor denied this, and the court ap-
pointed a jury of experts to determine the
point, with what results the records do not
say.

     
  

 

 

 

 

 

aN (EX

SHORT FALKS =
With Tue Boys.

 

   

EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL,

BE WHOLE-HEARTED IN
YOU UNDERTAKE,

NY fool can earn money, but it
takes a wise man to keep it,” is|
the old saying, the spirit of which
has been thrown at you a number |

of times in the course of these papers. |

Assuming that you have earned some
money, however little, and put it where
you think it will do the most good, you
have been warned not to waste it by be-
ing in too much of a hurry, or extrava-
gant, or careless.

There is another way, however, in
which some very honest, economical peo-
ple have lost their chances of making
fortunes, great or small; itis of being
half-hearted about their business,

It takes some plants a hundred years
to come into bloom, and they don’t flower |
a bit sooner by being given up by their |
owners,

I hope that your enterprise or invest-
ment, whatever it may be, won’t be as
slow as the century plant in coming to
something, but so long as it goes ahead
at all, instead of backward, don’t let
yourself be half-hearted, and wondering
whether you hadn’t better give it up.
The century plant won’t bloom at all,
even in a hundred years, if it is given up
by the owner,

There are a great many bad effects of
being half-hearted in business; any of
them will injure your property; but that
isn’t the worst that can happen, for most
of them injure you, too—injure you in
your character, which ought to be the
most solid and healthy of your posses-
sions, if you want to enjoy life.

You may have made a business opera-
tion of some kind in such a hurry, or
under such mistaken ideas, that you find
yourself sold; .to be disgusted with such
an experience isn’t what I mean by being
half-hearted.

But when you have acquired a bit of
land, or lumver, or perhaps nothing
better than a little lot of odds and ends
that you know, on general principles,
will some day be valuable, don’t lose all
by losing heart, ;

Human nature is a pretty weak article
sometimes, particularly when its owner
has been sick, or working too hard, or
sleeping too little, or drinking too much
rum, but when you become half-hearted,
in business, for any such cause, you cer-
tainly should have sense enough to lay it
to its proper cause, which is your own
condition—not your business.

Of course, you have heard of the many
great fortunes that have been made in
the gold and silver districts of California,
and the Rocky Mountain Territories.
There literally are thousands of paying
mines, besides the great “bonanzas,” but
not one in a hundred of the men who dis-
covered them has money enough to bury
him. Why? Because ninety-nine in a
hundred became half-hearted,

Most of these discoverers, called pros-

 

WHAT

 

 

 

pectors, knew pretty well the value of
their “finds” from the first. It is easy
and inexpensive to get an assay of ore,
telling its quality.and yield, and a man
with pick, shovel, drill, and a little
powder, can open a mine and get out ore.
When he runs out of money for bread
and butter, meat and coffee, he can get
three or tour dollars a day in any of the
bigger mines, until he has enough cash
to begin for himself again.

But, as already said, not one in a hun-
dred stuck to this paying ore. If some
capitalist didn’t come along in a few
weeks, and buy an interest, they lost
heart, sold outright for whatever they
could get, and started ayain in exactly
the same way. There is a man now in the
United States Senate who has become a

millionaire by simply going from small
}mine to small

mine, and
these half-hearted féllows.

More on this subject next week. At
present let us turn to our letters,

buying out

-+

M. A. C., Steubenville, Ohio, writes: “I
would be ery much obliged to you if you
would plea uuswer afew questions for me,
and give me your advice. Iam learning to be
a printer, and have been at it for nine months,
and like it well. But I am discouraged by the
reports that type-setting machines are becom-
ing so popular. In Pittsburgh all but two

 
  

 

 

| papers have them, (Lam told) and they are go-

ing to get them inside of six months. Now,
what would you think best? Finish my trade
or look around and try to learn some other
trade. I am 13 years and10 months old, and
am 5 feet, 6 inches in height. What trade
would you advise me to learn? How abeut
surveying or telegraph operating? I think I
would like both. I like to set type, but there is
no use in learning a dying trade. How old do
you have to heto go to West Point? Do you

*| have to buy your own clothing and your own

food? Tam not the only boy around here that
would like to know these things. There are
four more apprentices learning their trade as
printers.’’

While it is true that type-setting ma-
chines are becoming more and more pop-
ular, and itis almost certain that all of
the ordinary reading matter will sooner
or later be set by machines, it by no
means follows that the art of the printer
isa dying one.

Each snachine requires the services of
two to four men, and a machine sets only
a certain size and style of type. Every

| line of display and every advertisement

has to be set up by hand, corrections are
made in the same way, and no machine
can take the place of the maker-up.

As to the other calling you mention, we
would not advise you to take up teleg-
raphy. The average of pay for this work
is poor, and many of the places once
filled by men are now occupied by women.

Surveying offers better chances, lead-
ing as it often does to higher civil engin-
eering. We think, on the whole, we
would advise you to return to school for
the present, if you can afford to do so,
and take up the question of a calling for
life later on. . F

R, L. N, Opelika, Ala., writes: “Iam sixteen
years old, strong, healthy, five feet four anda
1alfinches high and weigh 124 lbs. 1 am at
present clérking in a drug store, and my em-
ployer says that I am Jearning very fast. He
is & ‘square’ Man and [could not have a bet-
ter chance anywhere. But I would like to go
to West Point, and [ think I could pass the ex-
amination. I have a good reputation and have
very few enemies. Where could I Jearn more
about West Point, about the pay and about the
duties of a West Pointer? Is my writing equal
to the average? I am practical, and like music,
and enjoy nothing better than reading, us I
have read GOOD NEws since the first copy was
issued.”

Our advice to you is to stick to the
drug business and give up all ideas of
going in the army. You will make more
as a druggist, and-your time will be your
own, Army life is by no means the “snap”
so many boys imagine it.

But if you cannot give up your desire
for a military life, we would advise you
to take up the practice of medicine and
surgery, for which you are now gaining
a good foundation. On graduating from
a medical college, you can apply for ad-
mission to the army as an assistaut sur-
geon, which is a far more agreeable
position than one in the line, and which
affords better chances for promotion. You
will then also have a guod profession to
fall back on in case you wish to retire
from the army,

Assistant surgeons are appointed each
year from medical college graduates who
hold diplomas, and are between twenty-
one and twenty-eight years of age. The
pay ranges from $1,700 per year up. The
medical department of the army furnishes
a pamphlet on application to the office at
Washington, D. C.

For information concerning West Point
see Goop News, Nos. 151, 170, 191 and
196, Your writing is fair,

SprcraL Noticr.—Many communica-
tions, improperly addressed to this de-
artment, are answered in the “Mail
ag.”

———___<>__<———————

Tur first knives were used in England,
and the first wheeled carriage in Fraace
in 1559, ;

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i likely long to continue painful.

 

GOoonD NEWS.

  

S433

 

(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.]

| sions, and unpainted. It was like the one
‘occupied by the accomplices of Bamford

“If I’ve gone back to that shanty, it’s a

= \ ! * |Brayles,from whose neighborhood Sam
B 1 9 | supposed he had been fleeing.
OR;

RIDING FOR FORTUNE.

BY ERNEST A. YOUNG.

 

(“BLUE AND WHITE SAM” was commenced in No. 213.
. Ageuts,}

CHAPTER VIL.
Bo EV ee Y

AM TALBOT felt a sharp twinge in
his left ankle at the same time that

CHASE.

e he heard the pistol-shot,
While it was only a twinge, and
not near so painful as many a hurt he

had experienced before, a sudden weak-
ness, seemed to run
pu the dength of his
spine, terminating in
a dizziness’ that
caused him to fall
from the tree.

It was the sight of
the game brought
down which lent the
triumphant note to
the wail of the hound.

Sam fell into the
midst of a dense
thicket, and, being
out of range of the
lantern’s rays, the
dog was momentarily
ata loss. The animal
ran past the thicket
—sniffed the air—
bayed once more—
then leaped directly
toward the fugitive.

For the moment
Sam had little hove of
escaping capture,even
temporarily. But the
weakness that caused
him to fall passed off

as quickly as it came,

and as he attempted
to rise to his feet his
hand touched a loose
stone upon the
ground,

He clutched the
missile eagerly, and
rose with it poised for
a throw.

The hound was al-
most upon him. The
man, too, was ap-
proaching ata slouch-
ing gait.

he dog made a
spring toward the
youth with open jaws
and gleaming eyes.
Sam recoiled—hurled
the stone with all his
strength—then, as the
hound fell in the
midst of the thicket,
the boy sprang away
through the woods at
a pace such as he
never struck before.

He had no time to
choose his course,
Away from the hound
and man—this was
the ruling impulse.

And to obtain the
greatest speed. he had
to take the course
which seemed to be
freest from under-
growth.

He chanced upgn a
natural forest path-

way, which had been A
used as a Short-cut by people passing
through the woods. He followed: this
with precipitate haste for a distance
which was probably something less than
a half-mile. .

At first there were heavy footfalls in
his rear, indicating that his enemy was
in hot pursuit. But these became inaudi-
ble, and Sam was conscious of a sticky
feeling upon his left foot, and frequent
twinges of pain in the ankle which had
received the shot.

“He drew blood on me, anyhow,” was
his reflection, as he sank uvon a half-
rotted log and pulled off shoe and stock-

 

he

He struck a match, and hurriedly ex-
‘amined the wound.
The shot had clipped across his ankie,

' just above the joint, tearing off a sma)l

piece of flesh in its course.

The wound was not serious, nor was it
But it
“bled copiously, and Sam bandaged it with

his handkerchief, replaced the stocking
'/and shoe, and then once more rose to his
~~ feet. ae

 
 

. Above he could see the cloudy sky,
with not a star in sight. A gusty breeze

 

from the path, and find my way out b

he thought would take him to the bigh-

 

pretty go,” Sam exclaimed.

“All seems quiet around, though,” he
added. “And I might as well make sure
if this is the place, and get my bearings
certain. I may as well be caught as to
blunder around in a dizzy old circle fora
week. Maybe I can get a horse out of the
barn—one of Bamford Brayles’ racers
j -...| weuld do, just to get clear with—and
Back numbers can be obtained of all News \then I’d show ’em whether I could ride
}or not.”

. | This idea pleased Sam better than any
whirred through the trees, and whisked ; scheme which had occurred to him yet.
dry leaves up from the ground, And he stole cautiously forth from the

“I don’t seem to be getting out of the edge of the woods, and approached the
woods in this direction,” Sam observed. | window through which the light was
And he tried to think of some way of shining.
getting his bearings. The window was small, and a curtain

“Let me see,” he added, holding up one ‘closely drawn shut out a glimpse of ‘the
hand to let the wind blow upon it. “The interior.
wind came from the east when I started! Sam reached up and drew himself: to a
down the road two hours ago—I remem- 'level with the window-sill, in the hope

CET

 

 

hiding-place of Sam. Then she picked up
her bundle, and stole with swift, cautious
footsteps toward the forest.

“Well, if that isn’ta queer go,” was the
silent comment ot our hero, as he stood
hesitating what to do next.

“That girl is bent on running away
from this shanty,” he added, “unless ap-
pearances are deceptive. And why, I
wonder? .And who is she, and where is
she going? Great Jinks! I’ve been in the
same boat before now, and can sympa-
thize with her. I don’t want to scare the
wits out of her, but I’m going to inter-
view that girl, sure as I’m buman.” :

With Sam, acts were sure to closely
follow resolves.

He stepped noiselessly forth from his
concealment, and in another moment
stood directly in the path of the fair
young stranger.

She recoiled, and for an instant seemed
bent upon flecing from the spot. But she
saw that he was a stranger, and but
little older than herself, and these facts
seemed to reassure her,

By a hurried, graceful gesture she beck-
oned him to follow
her, at the same time
gliding along a forest
pathway with which
she seemed to be fa-
miliar, ,

Sam: complied with
her silent. command,
curbing his curiosit
until she should bid
him to speak,

They kept on thus
silently for ten min-
utes, the girl leading
the way, and occa-
sionally pausing to
listen. At the end of
that period she ab-
ruptly paused, and,
after listening once
more, she faced him,
and exclaimed, in a
low, sweet voice:

“T don’t believe
they have discovered
my flight yet, and F
hope they won’t until
morning. If they
don’t, they will have
a good time fiuding
me, I can tell them
that. But who are
you? And why were
you prowling around
the house? ere you
watching for me to
come out?”

“One question at a
time, miss,” said
Sam. Yet he briefly
answered all three
questions, adding:

“Now, I guess it
would be no more
than square for you
to tell me who you
are, and why you’re
running away in this,
style?”

The girl stood quite
close to him, and de-
spite the darkness she
could plainly see his
face. And before an-
swering she seemed
to scrutinize his coun-
tenance keenly, as_
though she wished to
assure herelf that he
could be trusted.

“My name is Eu-
genie North,” she de-
clared, at length, in
a low voice. “But,”
she added, “the full
name is too much for
me to carry around

 

 

BEFORE SAM HAD RECOVERED FROM HIS ASTONISHMENT, THE SASH WAS RAISED STILL FARTHER AND THE FORM OF
\ A YOUNG GIRL CLAMBERED OUT UPON THE SILL.

ber, because it was in my face all the
way. If it hasn’t changed since, then I
have been going north all this while.
That wouldn‘t take me out to the road
in a month of Sundays. I must strike off

of being able to find some slight opening
through which a view of the room within
might be obtained.

~ As he did so he heard the sound of foot-
steps approaching, and saw a hand seize
the curtain from the inner side, with
the evident purpose of drawing it aside.

Sam dropped to the ground with all the
noiselessness and celerity he could com-
mand,

Scarcely had he done so, and drawn
himself within the denser shadow of a
tree that stood close to the house, than
the sash was softly raised, and he beheid
something like a bundle thrust out
through the opening and dropped to the
ground. ;

Sam had not time to recover from his
astonishment at this manifestation, before
the sash was raised still farther and the
form of a girl clambered out upon the
sill, and letting herself down at arm's
Jength, hung suspended for an instant,
and then dropped to the ground, so lightly
that Sam would not have suspected by
the sound what had happened had he not
observed the act. | eS f

The girl stood erect in a listening atti-
tude, her face turned full toward the

keeping along close to the wood-road.
wonder if I smashed that dog's skull! I
haven’t heard a yip from him since I
flung the rock.”

Having. as he believed, obtained his
bearings correctly, Sam struck out ata
more leisurely pace in the direction which

way. -

He kept on thus, through a pathless,
wooded tract, for fully an hour,

The darkness was intense, and presently
it began to rain, the drops pattering
down through the foliage.

Just then Sam was surprised to see a |
light glimmering through the trees,

“Must be there’s the road, and the light
comes from a house,” was his thought, _

He went forward cautiously, and saw
that the light indeed came from a dwell-
ing; but nothing like the well-kept high-
way which he was seeking was visible.

The house was a mere hovel in dimen-

 

s

 

for ordinary use, so
you will call me
Genie, if vou please.
Uncle Caleb Burton,
who used to live in Kansas, calls meé
‘Norther,’ because he says I*am a good
deal like tke fearful winds they bave out
there sometimes.” es

Sam _ inwardly decided that this was
just the style of girl he should. like,
There was nothing “slow” about her—so
much he felt sure.

“So Burton, that lives in that old house
in the woods, is your uncle, is he?” Sam
asked.

“I s'pose so, though I didn't choose
him. And the worst of it is he calls -him-
self my guardian also. He has more ugli-
ness in him than any other man I ever
saw, except his cousin, Mr, Cashin, who
looks enough like my uncle to be his
brother. Cashin shows his teeth likea
bull-dog. It isfrom the two that Iam
running away, for they’re plotting so
much mischief, day and night, that I am
really afraid of my life.”

“You got out of that window pretty
neat,” said Sam. “And I suppose you
know what place you're steering for? Got
friends in the city?” a

“I haven’t a friend in the world,” was
the quick reply. “But I’m not afraid—

x

hark! Hear that? My flight is discovered

ste

 

 
       
     
   

    
3434

and they will track me with their hounds!
Come! we havea good start, and we must
run as if it were for our lives!”

The sound of loud shouts, followed by
the baying of hounds, toid Sam that their
peril had only just begun. .

CHAPTER VIII.
ST THE BARN,

HE notes of alarmin their rear were
sufficient to convince Samof the
imminence of their danger,
It occurred to him that this
chance meeting with Genie North, who
had resolved upon flight from the root of
her uncle, might prove of value to him in
his purpose of defeating the plot of Bam-
ford Brayles against his employer. For it
was certain that the latter was hand-and
glove with the inhabitants of this shanty
in the woods.

The girl, without
word, started off along the footpath
which she had found so readily. It was
plain that she was familiar with every
path and track in that vicinity, and,
whether it were dark or not, there was
no danger to her of losing her way,

“T’ll let you lead, as you seem to know
the way,” said Sam, At the same time he
took the bundle from her hands to relieve
her of its weight.

Silently they hurried forward, and fora
time it seemed as though they were leay-
ing their pursuers behind. But presently
the bay of the hounds suddenly assumed
a@ greater distinctness, and they realized
that they were close pressed by their
animal pursuers, at all events,

Genie abruptly came to a halt,

“There is nouse in trying to outrun the
dogs,” she exclaimed.

“Then I'll find a stout club and fight
’em,” suggested Sam,

“No use in that, either,” the girl re-
turned.

“What will we do, then? Let 'em gob-
ble us up like a pair of woodchucks¢”

“Not at all. The dogs will not hurt me,
nor you either, if I tell them to let you
alone. They set them on my track, so
that they would know how to follow me
in the dark—that is all. The dogs will
keep their barking going, to tell them
where we are. But we have still a chance
to set them on a wrong scent, and so gain
time. The hounds are 'most here, and I
will make them keep quiet fora little
while.” .

Sam’s wits were not idle. His com-
panion had the power to protect them
both from the teeth of the hounds, since
they knew her and were friendly to her.
And while she was temporizing with the
brutes, why might he not carry out his
original intention of securiug horses from
the stable of Caleb Burton?

“Good !” exclaimed Genie, when he pro-
posed the idea to her. “ Make your course
back to the barn now, as quickly as you
can, while I deal with the hounds, As
soon as they come up with me I will coax
them to keep still, and they will follow
me quietly back toward the barn. That
will leave Uncle Caleb and Cashin all at
sea in following me, and if you are spry
and cautious you will have time to get
out a horse for each of us, and then we
will give them a fine chase before they
see the light of our eyes again.”

It was a taking scheme. The very au-
dacity of it suited Sam better than any-
thing else could have done.

The spirited girl gave him brief but ex-
plicit directions for returning to the barn,
which+was not very distant, and he
started off just as the two hounds bounded
up to his companion.

A backward glance showed him that
Genie had nothing to fear from the dogs,
except betrayal of her position by their
importunate barking. And he quickened
his footsteps toward the barn in the
woods from which he had fled so hurriedly
a short time before.

There was no time to make detailed
calculations. He could only work swiftly

uttering - another

and boldly, and trust largely to chance |.

for success in his undertaking.

He knew that he had no right, legally,
to “borrow” the horses from the stable,
even though he shoutd do them no injury,
and should see that they were duly re-
turned to their owner.

But in the present case he felt that the
end justified the means. There was a
dark nlot to ruin the fortunes of his em-

loyer, and if a chance presented itself

or turning the tables upon the plotter,
Sam felt that he had a right to seize and
make-the most of it.

With this end in view he soon found
himself near the large stable within
which he had overheard the plot to beat
Mr. Ragsdale’s runners at the race.

The barn seemed to be deserted, al-
though a lantern was burning dimly near
the door. The latter was shut and locked
on the inner side, indicating that the one
who had secured it came out by another
exit, probably on the other side of the
building.

The window at which Sam had played
eavesdropper was still available, how-

 

sver, and Sam did not take the trouble to encounter. But the author has seen more

look for another entrance. If there were
one it was likely to be locked, and he
could not risk the breaking of a lock to
gain admittance.

Toclimb in through the window was
not a difficult task. Once inside he
paused to listen, his heart beating audi-
bly as he thought of the danger of his
undertaking.

Only the
stamping or munching hay in their stalls
was to be heard. And he groped his way
to the large door, fumbled for the bolt,
found it, and pushed it back.

So far, good.
listened, and again he was reassured,

than one instance when the opposite case
| was proven.

A man of ordinary muscular powers
has an advantage in many cases, if he
possess in addition a ponderous weight,

|
an antagonist cannot be easily

| Such

thrust from one’s path; and he seems to |

overcome an assailant many times by
what seems like the sheer inertia of his

noise made by the horses | own bulk.

It was so in this instance.
Sam was strong and nimble, even

|the prostrating effects of a treacherous

Again he breathlessly | blow on the head.

In, his desperate purpose to escape he

He no longer heard the baying of the} might have thrust a lighter man from his
hounds, and he felt certain that Genie | path, and so made a successful break for

would be able to baffle the pursuit until | liberty.

he could return to her with means ot a
swifter flight.

Taking the lantern. he hurriedly in-
spected the stalls and inmates. Several
horses belonging to Bamford Brayles were
stabled there, and he easily distinguished
them from the work-horses belonging to
the farmer,

To select and equip two of the speediest-
looking horses was brief work for his
practiced hands. He found a side-saddle
for his new friend, and chose for her a
steed that seemed the most gentle in dis-
position.

So far there appeared to be no signs of
discovery.

“Brayles has most likely gone into the
city,” reasoned Sam. “And Burton and
Cashin, with the other man that seems to
be quartered here, are probably all tollow-
ing the dogs in the chase of Genie North.
They're a risky lot to leave a stable full
of valuable horses to take care of itself
this way, but all the better for me. Now
we'll make things twinkle.”

Sam looked around to see that no one
was onthe watch outside, and then led
the horses cautiously out.

He was now confident of success. He
would mount one of the horses, and lead
the other. He placed one hand on the
saddle, still holding the rein of the other
horse,

Then, as he was on the very point of
springing to the back of the animal, he
heard a whizzing sound in his ear, and
the next instant was felled to the ground
by a terrific blow. :

Nearly stunned, yet vaguely conscious
of his situation, Sam strove to rise. But
objects seemed to be whirling dizzily
about him, aud the next moment b> was
seized by the throat with a merciless
clutch, while the fist of his assailant
struck him fairly between the eyes, and
the last trace of consciousness was blotted
out like the light of a candle.

When one is wholly insensible the
periods of a moment or a week seem the
same upon awakening. It was so with
Sam. He became conscious first of a jar-
ring, thumping sound, which he soon vn-
derstood to be the stamping of horses
upon the floor of a stable, and that they
were very near him. ;

He opened his eyes, and rose painfully
to a sitting posture.

His head seemed to be cracking with
pain. The dim light of a lantern swung
to and fro before his dizzied vision, and
he presently perceived that the lantern
was held in the hand of a man.

“Well, sir!” exclaimed this person, in
a voice that Sam recognized with a feel-
ing of dismay. For the speaker was Bam-
ford Brayles.

Sam did not respond. A glance showed
him that he tae’ been lying on a horse.
blanket upon the floor of a vacant stall.
The door of the latter, which was of the
“box” variety, was closed, and Brayles
had evidently just come in to see his
prisoner.

“Lost your tongue, young man?” the
man asked, with his most disagreeable
drawl.

Sam struggled to his feet, but he was
so dizzy that he was obliged to lean
against the wall.

“'T was you that hit me that clin?” he
demanded.

“Twas 1 that hit you!” smiled Brayles,

Sam suddenly summoned his energies,
and made a leap toward the door of the
stall. But Brayles’ burly figure blocked
his way.

CHAPTER IX.
A “SHADY” OFFER.

OT so fast!” said Bamford Brayles,
as he placed himself betwixt the
youth and the closed door of the
stall. ©

“You better let me out, if you know
what is best for yourself,” was the re-
tort of Sam, whose wits and courage re-
turned at the same time.

He made another attempt to reach the
door, dodging first this way and then
that, while his enemy displayed an equal
degree of agility in constantly blocking
the way with his own ponderous figure,

Some have said that a man with super-
fluous weight is not to be feared in an

But the burly form of Bamford Brayles
was like a huge bowlder when Sam flung
himself against him. And as theré was
only a narrow space to cover, the
was active enough to prevent his prisoner
from reaching the door.

Sam kept up the struggle until both
were out of breath, while the man was
perspiring freely.

“There—there—haven’t we played at
this game about long enough?” Brasles
demanded at last, as Sam relinquished
his attempts.

“Wait till I get my wind and I’ll show
you,” said Sam.

“You think you can get away from me
if you only keep up the fight till ’m
tuckered out. eh?” the man asked,

“T think I can make you tired of the
game if I try hard enough.”

“You’re a tolerably plucky boy, I de-
clare,” smiled Brayles.

To this Sam made no response. He
vividly recalled the circumstance under
which he had been made a prisoner, and
he realized that his situation was any-
thing but a hopeful one,

He had been caught in the act of run-
ning off two of Brayles’ horses. To the
owner it certainly might appear like an
attempt to steal the animals; and under
the circumstances it was not to be won-
dered at that the man was resolved to
hold onto his young prisoner until some
other disposition could-be made of him.

“But you had better stop and talk with
mea bit before you decide to go out
again into the cola world,” Brayles added.
“The fact is that while I have just caught
you in what looked like a pretty scaley
trick, { have an idea that we will become
first-rate friends after we have had a
chance to get better acquainted. But to
begin with, what was your intention in
trying to run off a couple of m horses?”

“T wanted the horses to help me get
away from this place with. I didn’t want
to be caught.”

Sam stated this fact bluntly for he saw
that it were useless to attempt to hide
his real purpose, especially since a Jess
lawful intention might be imputed to
him otherwise.

“Did you think two horses would take
ou over the road faster than one?”
3rayles asked, showing his teeth in a

grim smile.

Sam hesitated, and the man continued,
the exultant smile growing broader.

“Better not use up your wits trying to
invent a yarn, since I know perfectly well
what your scheme was. You thought you
could lead both horses out a piece, and
then send the one you didn’t ride off in
another direction so as to throw pursuers
off the track. Ha, ha! Smart boy!”

Brayles laughed heartily, and Sam could
not resist joining in the show of mirth,
since he knew that the other had con-
jured up a reason which was so far from
the true one,

“You have got a pretty long head, Mr.
Brayles, that’s a fact,” said Sam.

“Well, I get an idea of my own now
and then,” said the man, modestly, “And
I daresay I could tell you just why you
were hanging around here to-night, and
trying to get away so sly. What do you
think about it?”

“Maybe you could, if you put your mind
on it.”

“One thing I know.” And the horsey
gent bent an unpleasant leer upon his
prisoner.

“Likely you know more than one thing,”
said Sam, meeting his gaze unflinchingly.

“Likely I do, my boy. And now, no
morechafing. You were here spying upon
me to-night, and you overheard some con-
versation about my friend Ragsdale. An’t
that the truth?”

“Tt may be, if you know it’s so.”

“You don’t deny it?”

“And I don’t admit !t."

“Then I’ll take it as granted, and act
according. We’ll putit this way: You
got it into your head that you could get
onto the good side of Ragsdale by playing
the spy and otherwise making sure of his
winning at the races. You want a job as
jockey; Ragsdale has got to win or be
ruined, You help him to win and he
hires you, and maybe gives you ten dol-
lars or so asasopto keep on the soft
side of you. Ragsdale likes to have a

’

 

youngster to toady to him. He winds

| though he had but just recovered from}

man |
jour little talk last night, and you know

 

 

that sort round his finger. But the day
comes when he don’t need ’em; then—
poogh—he blows ’em away as he wouid a
thistle-down. See?”

“T see,” Sam replied.

“You don’t believe—I know that. But
the day is near when you'll wish you had
listened to good advice. But we’ll talk
of the present fix which you have gotten
yourself into. [ caught you in an attempt
to steal twoof my horses. Perhaps you
don’t realize that you’re a blooming can-
didate for State prison?”

Sam saw what the man was driving at.
He meant to intimidate him by threats
of arrest and imprisonment, and so in-
— him to agree to desert Mr. Rags-
dale,

“But I don’t want to prosecute,”
Brayles continued, as Sam vouchsafed no
response. “The truth is,” he said, with
a magnanimous flourish, “that I remem-
ber my own boyhood too well to expect a
lad to bea saint. You were listening to

that we are not going to let Ragsdale
win at the race. Talway Tripp will never
ride for him, you may be sure, And I’m
going to give you a chance to- turn a
pretty penny. You’re sharp as a trap.
You can help me, and you shall put more
money in yqur pocket than Ragsdale has
got to his name. What do you say?”

“What do you want me to do?” Sam
asked, wishing to defer the issue, in the
hope of obtaining an opportunity to es-
cape.

“Agree to let Ragsdale and his horses
alone, in the first place. Come.”

“I don't make any blind trades,”
Sam.

“And I’ll put a hundred in cool cash in
your hands, whether we make or lose on
our side.”

“T guess not.”

“Hundred and fifty, then?”

“I’m not for sale.”

“You want more money?”

“No; I’m in the employ of Mr. Rags-
dale, and if you take me for the sort to
sell out a friend for money, you have
missed your guess. I don't belong to that
species of animal.”

For a moment Bamford Brayles glared
at the boy in mingled astonishment and
anger. It was evident that he could not
conceive of a human being who would re-
fuse to sell his honor for money.

Then came the impulse of baffled rage,

Sam heard footsteps along the floor just
outside of the closed stall. Boxsiae opened
the door, and, without taking his eyes off
his prisoner, called out:

“Cashin—that you?”

“That’s me,” was the reply, and the
next moment the hang-dog countenance
of the round-shouldered ruffian looked in.

“See that boy, Cashin?’ Remember the
tricks he’s served you? Well, I give you
leave to take it out of hisskin! Hold on—
don’t kill him! Just short of that. Tie
him hand and foot before you leave him.
We must keep him a prisoner till after
the race; and then—but we’ll see how
tame he is before we decide how to dis-
pose of him finally.” 3

Like the fierce brute which he so much
resembled, Cashin flung open the door,
and rushed upon our hero,

Sam knew that the brawny ruffian
could overpower him single-handed; and,
besides, Brayles stood by, ready to lend
his aid. Yet the young jockey made a
wild, fierce fight for his liberty. But the
battle was a brief one. Cashin had a stout
cane in his hand, and he did not scruple
to use it, For a second time the boy
jockey was beaten down by blows, and
while he did not entirely lose conscious-
ness as before, he found it expedient to
feign that condition, for he began to fear
that the infuriated ruffian would kill him
ere his brutal rage was spent.

He was bound hand and foot, and then
left lying upon the floor of the stall.

For what seemed to him like a long
period, Sam lay in that helpless condi-
tion, his head splitting with pain. In
truth. every bone in his body ached, and
so thoroughly miserable was he that for
the time he was indifferent alike to his
own situation and the interests of his
employer.

But gradually a keener comprehension
of affairs returned to him. He realized
that day must be at hand, and that
Ragsdale must be wondering already at
his failure to put in an appearance.

Then he thought of the coming race, in
which he so ardently hoped to take a
part, and of the plot to ruin his employer,
which would surely succeed unless he
should escape and give the warning.

With these reflections came all his old
determination.

He rose to a sitting posture, and began
to strain at his bonds, But even as he
did so a startling ery fell upon his ears,
followed by the tramp of beste feet and
the stamping of horses. The cries—the
hurried clatter—a smudge of smoke—a
glare of flame—all told Sam of a new and
deadly peril.

The great barn, with its tons of hay,
was on fire.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

said

 
(This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.}

_* Joe the Surveyor;
THE VALUE os LOST CLAIM.

+

BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER,
Author of “Shorthand Tom,” “Oamera Bob,’
etc., ele.

("JOH THE SURVEYOR” was commenced in No
209. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.)

CHAPTER XIX.

A SHORT WAY TO SAFETY.

Ee the moment it looked as if the big
t

{bear would close in upon Joe and

sf). Ralph Lumley.
ne That the beast was now in a de-
cidedly ugly frame of mind was easy to see.
His eyes snapped angrily, and he wagged his
head from side to side rapidly.

“We'll go on a bit farther,” said the sur-
veyor, ‘‘and perhaps he will change his
mind.”

As Ralph Lumley spoke he bounded for-
ward, and seeing this, Joe attempted to fol-
low.

The boy had hardly proceeded three steps
when his right foot caught in the roots of
some bushes and he went sprawling head-
long.

He gave a short, sharp cry as he went
down, and this brought his companion to a
halt.

“Up, Joe, up!”
“Quick, my boy !”

But before he could arise the bear was on
top of him.

Joe gave a yell that would have done
credit to a wild Indian, and endeayored to
roll out of the way.

While he was doing this, Ralph Lumley
picked up a good-sized rock, and taking aim,
launched it with all force at the bear’s head.

The missile struck the brute squarely
between the eyes, and with a grunt he
leaped backward.

This leap took him to the edge of the
path, and he slipped over.

He did his best to drag himself up by his
front paws, but before he could accomplish
this Joe kicked the paws with his feet, and
over went bruin on his back and rolled down
and down until he struck the rank vegeta-
tion in the hollow and disappeared in the
water and mud.

“Good for you!” shouted Ralph Lumley,
who had seen Joe’s last movements. ‘Now
I reckon he is out of our way, at least for
the present.”

“It was your throwing the rock did the
business,” said Joe. “Supposing we let
him have another dose. We may be able to
kill him, and the skin is worth consider-
able.”

“We might try it,” said the surveyor. ‘If
we kill him, the skin is yours, Joe.”

Joe wot a sharp stone and let fly. His
aim was true. The object caught the bear
fairly in the forehead just as he was crawl-
ing from the mud, and it must have broken
his skull for he tumbled over with a grunt
and lay still.

“You've fetched him and no mistake!’
cried the surveyor. ‘‘Now the question is,
how are you going to get down to him ?”

“T have the surveying chain with me,”
replied the boy, producing it. <If you'll
hold one end I'll let myself down. by the
other.”

This was done, and presently Joe stood
beside the bear. He found the animal still
alive, but drawing out his pocket-knife he
soon put the beast out of his misery. ;

“He's dead enough now!” shouted the
boy to Ralph Lumley. ‘‘But how we are to
get him up the slope is a puzzler.”

“The hunter who was after him ought to
be somewhere around.”

Ralph Lumley had hardly spoken, when
a tall, thin man, carrying a rifle, came up
the path on a run,

“Hullo!” he cried. “Say, did you fellers

-see anything of a—by hickory! there he
ey

“Is this the bear you were trying to
shoot?” questioned the surveyor.

“J did shoot him. Is he dead ?”

“Yes, he’s dead now! The boy just killed

' him.”
“Huh! what are you talking about?” de-
manded the man, in an ugly tone. ‘I shot

cried Ralph Lumley.

5 and killed that bear.” ,

“Not much you didn’t!” sang out Joe.
“J killed him with a rock and my pocket-
_ knife.”
‘Rot and nonsense!” stormed the new-
comer. ‘I killed him and he’s my bear.”
As the man spoke he slung. his rifle over

 

GooDp

his shoulder and prepared to crawl down
the slope.

“Look out there!’ sang out Joe.
mighty treacherous—— =

Before the boy could finish, the man
stepped on a slippery piece of ground. Over
he rolled, and then came down and landed
in the mud and water with a loud splash.

Joe could not kelp laughing, and he let
out a loud shout, in which Ralph Lumley
joined. This made the hunter angry, and
as he arose all plastered with mud he cried,
furiously :

“Wot you laughin’ at, hey ?”

“Excuse me, but the sight was too com-
ical,” said the surveyor.

“Well, it an’t none of your business;
see?” went on the hunter. ‘‘Now both of
you better clear out.”

“Clear out?” queried Joe.

“That’s what I said.”

“But the bear?”

‘Tll take care of the bear.
meat.”

‘Indeed not!” burst out the boy. “I
killed him, fair and square, after he had
gotten away from you. Mr. Lumley, there,
can prove it, for he helped me do it.”

“Yes, the bear belongs to Joe Hurley,
added Ralph Lumley.

“He don’t!” shouted the hunter, more
angry than ever. ‘You two are in with
each other, but you can’t do me out of
what’s my own, understand that !”

For the moment Joe was nonplused, then
he said, in a quieter tone :

“T suppose you ate the man who shot at
this bear and wounded him ?”

“You've struck it right.”

“Well, you didn’t hurt him much, for he’s
gone over a mile since you hit him. He
died from being struck on the forehead with
a rock, and being finished with my pocket-
knife. Examine him for yourself.”

But this the hunter did not care to do.
His face grew darker than ever, and turning
swiftly, he caught Joe by the arm.

“Now, see here, youngster ; the best you
can do is to get out of here in double-quick
order. Ian’t used to quarrelin’, but when
I get riled ——”

And the hunter ended with a savagely
suggestive shake of his illy-combed head.

“Tll not get out just yet,” said Joe,
standing his ground firmly. “I claim this
bear, and the law would give it to me, too.
But since you wounded the animal, I'll tell
you what P’lldo. You can have half of the
meat.”

“TIl take all of it, and the skin, too,” re-
turned the hunter. ‘Do you know who I
am ?”

“TI do not know, and I do not care, for
that matter.”

“T am Philander Pardone, from Ironton.”

“The livery stable man?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, Mr. Pardone, that makes no differ-
ence to me, as I can see.”

‘It ought to. Iama well-known citizen
of this here district, an’ you an't nothin’ but
a poor beggar boy ——”

“All but the beggar !” interrupted Joe, his
eyes flashing with a sudden fire. ‘I am no
more a beggar than you.”

By this time Ralph Lumley, seeing that
something unusual was going on down the
slope, resolved to go down. He tied the
end of the surveying chain to a tree, and
was soon by Joe’s side.

“You are making a lot of unnecessary
trouble,” he said ‘to Philander Pardone.
“This bear is Joe’s, and you haye no right
to touch it.”

“Tt an’t !” yelled Pardone. ‘‘Icl aim this
here animile, and if you try to take it away
from me there’ll be trouble. I an’t goin’
to be cheated out of my rights by any
galoot of a surveyor——”

Before Philander Pardone could go fur-
ther, Ralph Lumley had him by the arm and
was gazing sternly into the livery stable
keeper’s somewhat frightened eyes.

“You have said quite enough, sir, and
now I want you to make tracks out of this,
neighborhood, I don’t allow any such talk
in my hearing. Now go, before I help you
along.” /

Philander Pardone hesitated, as if on the
point of making some sharp retort, but sud-
denly he seemed to change his mind, and he
backed away.

“So you an’t goin’ to let me have the
bear?” he said, sullenly.

“No,”

«Very well. T'll get even with you for
this, my fine fellows !”

And, aided by the chain, he scrambled up
the slippery slope to the path.

_ Hardly had he reached the latter when he
rushed to the tree where the chain was
fastened. f

In a moment he had the chain loose and
in his hand. ;

“Now get out of that hanged hole the best

“Tt's

He’s my

”

 

NEWS.

way you can!” he cried, and threw the end
of the chain at their feet.
Then he disappeared in the bushes.

CHAPTER XX.

RALPH LUMLEY’S IDEA.

£ ’ er ELL, now we are in a pretty
WYN pickle,” said Ralph Lumley, as
wo) he gazed after Philander Pardone

in a dazed manner.

‘TJ suppose he thought it was the only
way he could get square,” replied Joe. ‘‘I
have heard of him before. People in Iron-
ton say he is a bad man to deal with.”

‘Then it’s a wonder he didn’t draw his
rifle on us.”

“Oh, I suppose he wouldn’t dsre to do
that. Bad men, so called, are usually cow-
ards at heart.”

“You are right there.”

The two heard Philander Pardone crash-
ing through the bushes above them, and
then all became quiet.

“We must find some way of getting up
that bank, no matter if it is steep,” said
Joe, after a few minutes’ silence. ‘‘I won-
der if I can’t crawl up ?”

He started with a run, and ascended per-
haps fifteen feet. Then he began to slide,
and came down with a rush at the survey-
or’s feet.

“That won’t do, Joe. You can no more
go up that bank than you can climb a
greased pole.”

“T have it!” shouted the boy, suddenly.
‘Just wait till I get a couple of sticks.”

He searched around until two short and
stout siicks were found. With his pen-knife
he sharpened both of them at one end.

‘Now I'll try my luck again,” he said,

He rushed up the slide, and as soon as he
began to slip, dug one of the sticks into the
earth. ‘Then he drove the other stick a
couple of feet higher and withdrew the first,
and working in this fashion, soon reached
the narrow pathway above.

‘Good for you!” shouted his employer.
“Throw down those sticks to me.”

“No need for you to get dirty,” replied
Joe. ‘Throw up the énd of the chain.”

This was done, and after it was fastened
to a tree, the surveyor pulled himself up
upon it.

“But now we are up here, what about your
bear?” questioned Ralph Lumley. ‘We
can never draw him up. He must weigh all
of five hundred pounds.”

This question perplexed Joe not a little.
He knew it would never do to leave the
animal there, to be torn and carried off by
the foxes and other wild animals.

“Tf you'll stay here I'll run back to our
outfit and get that big rope,” he said. ‘‘Or
better yet, I'll run down to Dan Yates’
cabin and get him to take charge of the car-
cass for me. He'll be glad to do it for part
of the meat.”

“Then you had better do that, for we
must finish that survey to-day.”

‘Tl be back inside of an hour,” said Joe,
and off he started on a run.

Dan Yates was a poor man living at the
base of the mountain. He hunted and did
odd jobs for a living, and resided in an old
cabin he had built years before.

Joe knew the location of the cabin very
well, but did not know the best way of get-
ting to the place.

At last he struck off boldly for the south-
east, that being a bee-line as closely as he
could calculate it.

He had passed on for about quarter of a
mile when the path he was pursuing grew
fainter and a hundred feet farther on died
out altogether.

Joe came to a stand-still in front of a dark
mass of brush, under which the ground was
wet and uncertain,

‘Well, this isa fine state of affairs,” he
grumbled. ‘Now what's to be done? Must
I go back ?”

Tt certainly looked that way, and the boy
bit his lip in vexation. To go back would
mean all of quarter of an hour’s delay, and
he had already spent more time than he had
calculated to.

Bang ! ;

It was a rifle-shot close at hand, and it
made Joe jump. He looked around and
presently caught sight of a man’s form be-
hind the trees at his left.

‘Hullo, there!’ he sang out.

«‘What’s that?” came back, and a second
later Philander Pardone appeared in sight.

‘What! so you got out of that hole, did
you?” he sneered. ‘You are rather smart,
I must confess. Where's your pard ?”

‘He stayed with the bear,” said Joe. He
was .sorry now that he had called to the
man. io

“And where are you going?”

“That is is my business.”

“See here, boy, don’t you be for gettin’

 

cheeky, understand?” growled Philander
Pardone, as he came up closer.

‘hen don’t ask impertinent questions.”

“My, but an’t you a big youngster for
your size. Say, I reckon I'll have to give
you a dressing down.”

“Don’t you dare to touch me,” retorted
Joe, sharply. ‘Let me pass.”

He attempted to step aside, but Pardone
caught him by the arm and threw him up
against a tree.

“Not so fast, boy. Now we are alone, I
reckon we'll settle this matter between us.”

“What do you mean ?”

“You stole my bear, and if it hadn’t been
for your companion I would have settled
with you before.”

“Were you afraid of Mr. Lumley ?”

Philander Pardone’s face reddened some-
what.

“I don’t want no sass, boy. Take that,
and remember you can’t come no game over
me.”

He aimed a sudden and savage blow for
Joe’s head, which, had it struck the boy,
would have felled him to the ground.

But Joe was on his guard, and he dodged.
The fist of the man came in unexpected
and painful contact with the trunk of the
tree. The skin of the knuckles was peeled,
and the man set up acry of pain.

“You little rascal! I'll fix you for this!”

“It was your own fault,” retorted Joe,
“What do you mean by attacking me in this
fashion ?”

“Tl show you, you whelp !”

Again the man rushed forward, a wicked
look in his dark eyes.

He struck out once more, and for a second
time the boy dodged. Then Joe put out his
foot, and Philander Pardone went sprawl-
ing head first into the bushes and water.

As he endeavored to rise, he muttered
fierce imprecations against the youth who
had bested him so adroitly. It was several
seconds before he stood once more on his
feet. Then he unslung his rifle as if to
have it ready for use, and looked around.

Joe had disappeared.

“Hi! there! where are you?”

A crashing in the bushes a good hundred
feet away was the only reply Philander Par-
done got to this question. Clearly Joe was
making good use of his time.

“The rat!’ muttered theman. “But I'll
fix him yet. Now I reckon it’s about time I
went to meet Ridd and Olney.”

And he glided through the brush in the
direction opposite to that which Joe had
taken. e

CHAPTER XXI.
A STRANGE NOTE.

in finding his way to Dan Yates’
cabin.

Joe found the old man just getting ready
to go out fishing.

“O’ course Ill go with ye, Joey,” said
Yates. ‘So ye really gota b’ar, eh? Well,
that’s fine luck. Yes, I'll go to onct, my
boy,” o

Un the way Joe told Yates of how they
had captured the -bear, and of Pardone’s
actions afterward. ;

“It was a fine trick to roll the bear down
into the swamp, Joey,” was Yates’ com-
ment, ‘‘an’ then to kill him as you did. But
you want to beware of that Philander Par-
done; he is a thorough rascal, and I’ve
knowed it this many a year.”

When they arrived at the path Which led
to the precipice they found Ralph Lumley
pacing up and down somewhat impatiently.

“You've been a long time,” he said, after
Dan Yates had been introduced.

“T met Pardone again.”

And Joe told the particulars of the en-
counter.

“By Jove! he must be a bad egg!” cried
the surveyor. ‘We will keep a good lookout
for him in the future ”

Dan Yates agreed to take charge of the
bear and cure the skin for Joe for one-half
of the meat. The remainder of the meat
he promised to take to Ironton and sell to
the keeper of the leading hotel. He would
turn the money over to Joe the first time
they met afterward.

This settled, Joe and his employer started
off to continue the work which had been so
suddenly interrupted. -

All went well for the balance of the day,
and at five o’clock the two returned to the
Hurley cottage.

Here rather good news awaited Joe. Mr.
Hurley had been feeling unusually well all
day, and was hopeful that if he kept on im-
proving he would in the course of a month
or six weeks be again on his feet.

“And it can’t come none too soon, Joe,”
said the sufferer. “I'm not the kind of a

(C)

FTER Joe ran away from Philander —
JR Pardone he had but little difficulty

¥

 
S236

man to sit down and let my son support
me,”

“That’s all right, father,” replied the boy.
“You just take it easy till you are yourself
again.”

Meg was greatly surprised over the bear
story, and declared that Joe was a regular
hero.

Just as the family were finishing supper,
Ralph Lumley with them, there was a knock
on the door, and Meg opened it to- admit a
neighbor who lived between their house
and the more thickly settled portion of
Mountainville.

“Good evening, Mr. Podgers,”
girl. ‘Walk in.”

“T an’t got time, Meg,” returned Mr.
Podgers, an old man, who wore blue gog-
gles, “’cepting you can tell me what I want
to know.”

“And what is that ?”

“What's become of my two hosses, Tom
an’ Bess.”

“Why, are they missing ?”

“Yes, they're missin’, and Hank Akers,
wot was to take care o’ them while I was
visitin’ my daughter in Phillipsburg, is mis-
sin’, too !’

“You don’t say!
this ?”

‘Jess now, when I got home.”

‘Perhaps Akers has gone some place with
the horses,” suggested Joe.

‘No; cos he left this note, which I can’t
make out.”

The old man handed a note to Joe who
read it aloud, for the benefit of the others ;

said the

When did you learn

“Mr. PoDGERS: There an’t no use for me to
stay here now that you sent for the team to be
took to Ironton, so [ will lock up, and, of course,
you'll find the key in the old place. ,

“HENRY AKERS.”

’

“Well, this is plain enough,” said Joe.
“TI suppose he thought the house was safe
enough, and as the team didn’t have to be
fed——”

“But ye don’t understand,” cried the old
man. ‘‘I never sent for no hosses.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nary a one;an’ I don’t understand it.
I believe them hosses hez been stolen,
an’——”

“T saw the team!’ cried Joe, excitedly.
“T saw them the night I came from the ride
down the Coal Road gully in thexstorm.
Two mén were siding like the wind for Iron-
ton,”

“And those men must have been the two
robbers,” put iy Ralph Lumley.

“What a fool I was not to put two and
two together before?’ said Joe. ‘Really
my head must be getting thick, I never
gave those two men on horseback a second
thought.”

Of course old Podgers came in, and he
had to be told the whole story, to which he
listened with rapt attention.

“Ireckon you're right, Joe,” he said.
“But the question is, what became of my
hosses ?” x ‘

“Tll_ tell you

”

what I'll do, sir,” put in
- Ralph Lumley. “Tl hire a rig down to the

Sana aid Oak e over to Ironton, and see
if I can learn anything. You and Joe can
go along if you wish.”

The others at once agreed; and five
minutes later the trio were on their way to
the Mountainville hostlery.

The tavern-keeper was not on good terms
with the surveyor, since the latter had left
the tavern and taken up his abode with the
Hurleys, so Podgers was sent in to procure
a team and a light-road wagon. ‘The old
man soon appeared with the turn-out, and at
exactly half-past six the three started to
drive to Ironton. —

As they passed the Uoal Road, Joe could
not help gazing down the gully, which the
freshet had washed out almost clean. How
close he had been to death down there!

“T reckon the blue box is gone for good
now, if it was down there,” he thought.
“That rush of water would have carried it
right down to the river.”

It was growing quite dark by the time
the outskirts of Ironton were reached. At
the first house they got out, and Podgers,
who knew the folks well, put up the team
for the while.

“Did you see anything of a couple of men
on horseback the night of the storm?” ques-
tioned Joe, of the man who came to take
charge of their turn-out,

“No, but I heard horses on the road,” was
the reply.

“What time ?”

The man thought for a moment.

“A little while after the storm let up.”

“Which way were they going?”

‘Straight into town,”

After this the boy and Ralph Lumley
walked on ahead, Podgers doing his best to
keep up with them.

‘We are on the track of the horses, that’s
true,” said the surveyor, “But whether we

 

GooDpD

will run down the robbers is another mat-
ter.”

They made a number inquiries, and at
last struck a negro who said he had seen two
es standing that night in a wood-shed
close to Philander Pardone’s stables.

“Philander Pardone’s stables ?’’ ejaculated
both Joe and Ralph Lumley.

‘*Yes, boss,” said the negro.

“Describe them hosses,” put in old Pod-
gers.

The colored man did so, as best he could.
As he proceeded Podgers grew quite ex-
cited.

*‘Them’s
*em sure !
the skunk!

hox

’em!” he exclaimed. ‘Them’s
I know Philander Pardone well,
Come on!”

He pushed on without further delay, and |

wondering what would come next, Joe and
Ralph Lumley followed him, never dream-
ing of the surprise that was in store.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
a
{This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. ]

Captured at Sea;

DICK WILLARD’S STRA}

BY CLARENCE CONVERSE,

Author of “Dick Oakley's Adventures,” etc., etc.

chaning Sikes

3E LUCK.

(“CAPTURED AT SEA” was commenced in No. 205.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER XXXYV.

A BIT OF FLOTSAM.
CNHE second village on Watling’s Island
was reached by the middle of the
afternoon.

The eyes of the loitering natives
about the shore stuck out like

No

iB

crew pulling ashore. _

Dick was greatly amused at the conster-
nation of the governor—a dried up, mummy-
looking black with snowy thatched skull
when he asked if there had been anything
seen of three white men thereabouts lately.

But here again there was no news of Nes-
bitt, Gordon, or Sanders.

After leaving word that the little shriv-

eled-up officer should be amply rewarded if |

he did capture the thieves, and Sam Tom-
linson impressing upon him the warning
that his island and worthy self would be
blown out of water if he harbored them,
the searching party pulled off to the yacht.

Notwithstanding this failure, Dick’s dis-
appointment was not such as to make him
miserable.

With Howe at the wheel and Tomlinson
caring for the running of the yacht, he was
relieved from all duty during the afternoon
watch. He had a sailor bring a steamer
chair on deck and place it in the shade of
the mainsail. -

And leaning back full “length in a com-
fortable pose, his head in his hands, he
dropped into a half waking reverie, as he

watched the swaying of the little vessel's tall |

spars against the cloudless blue dome above
them.

Presently one of the yacht’s crew sheuted
something aft, and, starting up, Dick saw
the sailor standing on the rail grasping one
ot the fore shftouds and pointing off over the
sea to starboard.

‘Shall I let her come up a bit, sir?
There’s something floating off the starboard
bow that looks a little like a boat of some
kind,” said Tomlinson, noticing that Dick
was awake.

“By all means !”

Dick sprang up and mounted the ratlines
of the main shroud as he spoke.

Sheets were flattened ina trifle, and the
schooner headed for the distant object,
which rose and fell sluggishly on the easy
swell, as if water-logged.

It had too little sheer for a ship’s boat ;
but as Sam Tomlinsom remarked, it looked
to be a craft of some kind, though “it also
resembled the body of a blackfish or dol-
phin.

The wind was fresh. The schooner speed-
ily neared the dark object.

“It’s a canoe!” exclaimed Dick, dropping
back on deck, when 4 swell lifted the piece
of flotsam up into easy view, where it re-
mained poised for a moment ; **but she’s
swamped—and empty.”

However, he had the yacht brought along-
side th2 dreary object with shaking canvas.

The boat was of the dug-out kind, but
had evidently seen its best days. For its

unwales were rotted down unevenly, If
it ever had any thwarts, they were gone.

veritable |
saucers at the unusual sight of a uniformed |

 

NEw Ss.

Its side toward the schooner was crushed
in.

“Wait a bit, Mr. Tomlinson,
a piece of cloth ?”

And Dick € mate’s attention to
something dark clinging to the splintered
ends of the broken wood.

‘“Tooks like a piece of seaweed, sir,’ was
Tomlinson’s answer. ‘‘I don’t cale’late three
men would put to sea in that sort of craft,
shipmates, along with half a ton of gold
pieces.”

But he twisted the point of the long boat-
hook he held in the dark object.

“You're right, sir. By the great Horn
spoon, it’s a ’kerchief! Butdo you recog-
nize it, sir?’ he exclaimed; and the men
crowded around interestedly, as the water
was wrung from what was very evidently a
sailor’s neckerchief of dark blue silk.

Dick examined the find carefully.

“T will not swear to its being the man
Gordon’s ; but it is about as near like his
as two pieces of cloth can be,” was Dick’s
slow response.

Was this Hi Gordon’s property? If it
was, coupled with the crushed side of the
old warped canoe, it might be surmised to
mean one of two or more things—either
that the three thieves had put out in this
sorry craft, in the hope of gaining some
neighboring island from which to eventually
reach civilization, when they were run down
by some vessel and sunk—Tomlinson’s idea;
or that they had sighted a vessel (perhaps
the one Dick saw and lost when he sailed
off with the yacht), and putting out to her,
had had the rotten side of the aged dug-out
stove in transferring themselves and the
treasure aboard—Dick’s conclusion.

But again, the neckcloth might have be-
longed to the scanty wardrobe of some vain

Isn’t that

 

turtle-catcher or sponge gatherer, whose
antiquated craft had been wrecked against |
some rock, |

Dick felt that the decayed and warped |
condition of the dug-out argued ‘against this |
theory not a little; yet he was well aware |
that such boats are held somewhat as heir-
looms among the ease-loving islanders, who
would think twice of going to sea in a seive
before they would set to work making anew
vanoe,

He carried the ’kerchief down into the
cabin of the schooner, and she filled away
for Bino Island and the Alliance, which the
glass could make out as lying at anchor off
the nearest shore.

Now to learn what Captain Reed had dis-
covered,

CHAPTER XXXVI.

WHEN NO NEWS IS NOT GOOD NEWS.
NY news of the rascals, captain ?”
was Commander Reed’s inquiry, as
Ay Dick entered the cabin of the Alli-
«—”" ance that evening.

It was a question to make Dick’s spirit’s
fall.

“No certain news,” he answered.
you have none, neither ?”

“T will have to say as you do—no certain
news,” said Captain Reed. ‘But sit down ;
you must take supper with me. We will
talk the situation over as we eat, my boy,”
he added, hospitably.

For the table was spread and waiting, and
while they talked, Lieutenants Rich, Wright
and Gulick entered the cabin.

“I have gone over nearly every part of
the island, in the three days since we
parted,” began the captain, when they were
seated. ‘I hired some of the natives, too,
—great fellows for that kind of work, We
visited the ruins of the cabin, and found
the chest that held the treasure. But no
sign of the three gentlemen who emptied it
was to be found, except a clew, perhaps, to
the way in which they left here.”

“T was exploring the shore just above us,”
began Lieutenant Wright, in response to a
glance from the captain. ‘My guide said
he had seen an old canoe rotting in the
mouth of a bayou there. It was gone; and
the brush thereabouts seemed to have been
recently trodden down.”

“Ah!” was Dick’s involuntary comment.

There was general interest manifest when
he told of the floating canoe that he had
come across.

“Tt would not be impossible,” said Cap-
tain Reed, slowly, glancing over a section
chart that had lain on the neighboring
table, “nor improbabie, that the eddying
currents, together with the direction of the
winds for the past few days, would keep the
hulk of a dug-out in the immediate vicinity
of this island, instead of having it be drawn
into the current of the Gulf Stream.

“But now, all that remains for us to do,’
he continued, ‘‘is to sail to Nassau and put
the case in the hands of the secret service

“Then

,

 

detectives of our country and abroad, And

there’s hardly a chance of your regaining
of the treasure going to thé man
rdon and: Sanders, for Jack seems to®
know of but one use for money. ‘The fel-
low, Nesbitt, however, is more likely to keep
his share longer, I should judge.”

“What are your plans?”

“T have no definite cnes—as yet,” was
Dick’s somewhat hesitating reply to Lieu-
tenant Wright's friendly query, which came
after a little thoughtful pause in the con-
versation. ‘Ihave been thinking of going
back to Beacon Cove,” Dick continued, ‘but
in just what way is more than I have
planned. If I could come across the
Duchess I might return on her—or the Jen-
nings. Her captain is a personal friend,”

When the party rose from table it was to
say good-night. For Captain Reed thought
it advisable not io delay sailing to Nassau,
now that there was no chance of coming
upon the thieves by remaining off the
island longer.

Half an hour later the Alliance and the
Gurline were gliding over the star-lit waters
like some mammoth water fowl and its off-
spring. ;

As eight bells in the next afternoon were
struck upon the lofty ship, and musically
echoed on the little seven-inch bell of her
small consort, the two vessels were off Nas-
sau, Where dusky pilots boarded both of
them almost simultaneously.

It was Dick’s first sight of civilization for
some weeks. The old government house,
the cathedral, and baker’s dozen of smaller
churches and chapels, with the homes of
Nassau’s ten or twelve thousand inhabitants,
formed a welcome scene. .

_ Lieutenant Reynolds was first to greet
Dick and Captain Reed when they came
ashore,

With him was a neat, gray-haired man of
pleasant voice, and a quick, nervous manner
—in fact, a gentleman very popular at this
distant seaport, for his untiring and unfail-
ing efforts to enhance the pleasure of their
stay, be it ever so short. I refer to none
other than Mr. Pritchard, the American Con-
sul.

‘Ah ~er—Captain Willard. ——”

This was after Mr. Pritchard had drawn
Captain Reed aside and held a whispered
conversation with him,’during which he had
produced a paper and read it with many
glances over his specks toward the Lurline
and Dick.

‘I was cabled in answer to the telegram
you sent to Mr. Huntington,” Mr. Pritchard
continued. ‘‘It was to the effect that if the
vessel you have here is the Lurline—and
Lieutenant Reynolds assures me that she is

that I may draw upon him for the sum of ”
the reward and pay it to you. Or—well, you
may read the message for yourself.”

He handed Dick the paper which he had
read to Captain Reed,

It ran as follows:

“July 10, 18—
“CONSUL PRITCHARD: Nassau, New Providence,
“If yacht in port is truly my Lutline, pay
Richard Willard sum $25,000. If competent
have him bring her here—I to pay reward aud
expeuses,
“MAXWELL Hunt
“Hull, Mass,

“If I could have a skilled crew I should
not hesitate to sail her home,” was Dick’s
— reply to the inquiring look of the con-
sul.

“You shall have them.”

A few days later found Dick Wiliard home-
ward bound.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

ee er
A HINT TO TEACHERS,

Two teachers of languages were discuss-
ing matters and things relating to their
profession,

“Do your pupils pay up regularly at the
end of each quarter?” asked one of them.

“No, they do not,” was the reply. “I
often have to wait for weeks and weeks
before I get my pay, and sometimes I
don’t get it at all. You can’t well dun
the parents for the money.”

“Why don’t you do as I do? I always
get my money regularly.”

“How do you manage it?”

“It’s very simple, For instance, I am
teaching a boy French, and on the first

2

et

day of the quarter his folks don’t send ¢

the money for the lessons, In that event
I give him the following sentences to
translate and write out at home: ‘I have
no money. The quarter is up, Hast thou
got any money? I need money very much,
Why hast thou not brought the money
this morning? Did thy father not give
thee any money?’ That fetches them.”

THE prize given to the World’s Fair
salesman who sold the largest number of
tickets on Chicago day—the rather modest
one of a box of cigars—was won by Charles
Decker, an old circus ticket-seller, He
sold 17,800 tickets that day,

+

 
4

bx

GOOD

 

BOB’S TRAMP.

WILL LISENBEE,

paaanstig o

DILAPIDATED wagon, drawn by
, A two shabby mules, made its way
Y 3.) slowly along a dim prairie road.
““ It contained two occupants, Bob
and Nora Sanders, aged respectively four-
teen and eleven years.

It was early in January, but the day
was as mild as the days in Indian suin-
mer, and a yellow haze hung over the
great waste of brown prairie. The black
and withered stems of the sunflower stood
motionless against the saffron sky, and
here and there, along the narrow road,
flocks of prairie sparrows would rise up,
and twittering a sharp-and discordant

BY

. protest against being disturbed by the

advancing team, would whirl rapidly
away like a mass of brown leaves across
the prairie.

“Git up!” cried Bob, avplying a long
dog- wood switch vigorously to the backs
of the lazy animals. “I guess we wouldn’t

~ get home to-night if them mules had

their way.

The team broke into a slow trot, and
the shabby vehicle went lumbering along
the dim prairie road.

“What are those birds flying yonder?”
asked Nora, pointing to the north-west.

“Ducks, as Llive!” cried Bob, enthusias-
tically. “I’m going to stop and try to get
ashot at them,” and he cast his eves
eagerly toward a flock of wild ducks that
was circling over a pond near the road a
half mile ahead. :

“But it’s getting late,” said Nora,
“and we ought to hurry home—pa needs
the medicine for his rheumatiz. He said
we must hurry back from Windy City,
and we have seven or eight miles to
travel yet——”

“Shut up, Nora,” said« Bob, shortly.

~ “Don’t you suppose [’m old enough to
understand my business? Pa didn’t send
you along to give me advice.”

“But he said for us to hurry——”

“Yes; but he didn’t know we would
see any ducks,” answered Bob, with an

_ air of one who has crushed out all chance
of further argument.

Nora relapsed into. silence,
wagon lumbered on its way.

A few minutes travel brought them to
a spot opposite ‘the pond where they had
seen the wild ducks. Bob stopped the
team, and got out.

“Just wait here, Nora, till I come
back,” he said, taking a small, double-
barreled shot-gun from the wagon, “and,
if we don’t have some duck meat, I’m

.badly mistaken-——”

“Hello, thar!”

Bob turned hurriedly, and saw Zeke
Badger, a shiftless claim holder, who
lived in adug-out two miles from his
father’s cabin, standing at the edge of a
patch of persimmon bushes. He was a

. tall, raw-boned individual, his shabby
and threadbare garments giving him an
aspect of wretchedness and want.

“Hello,” responded Bob,

“Goin’ up the road?” asked Zeke,

“Yes—when I get ready,” replied Bob,
shortly. .

“I’ve walked a good ways, an’, if ye
don’t object, I’d like ter ride with ye——”

Bob shook his head. j

“I never have anything to do with—
tramps,” he said. :

“But I’m not a tramp—I——"

“No; Isuppose not. You are a real
estate agent from Windy City,” and Bob
laughed heartily at his own attempt at
wit.

The face of the man flushed at this,
_ then a look of dejection settled upon his
countenance,

“Then I ken’t ride?”

OS ngcc

The stranger’s face brightened.

“But not in this wagon,” went on Bob.
“You can wait till the stage comes along
and ride if you’ll pay your fare.

~ An angry look swept over Zeke’s face.

“Maybe ye think yer smart,” he said,

with a show of feeling; “but yer only
* imperdent an’ sassy; but I reckon I can
walk the rest of the way.”

and the

“ He turned abruptly, and, picking up a

bundle from the ground, he moved off
slowly along the road.
Bob hurried along through the high
“grass in the direction of the pond, and
‘was soon lost to sight up the draw.

a Nora sat in the wagon watching the

shabby figure of Zeke Badger moving
‘slowly up the road, a feeling of pity

_ coming over her as she noted his forlorn

appearance.

“T wish Bob would let him ride,” she
thought. “He looked so tired, and—

yand——”

She stopped abruptly in her train of
thought, and began to get down from the
wagon. se

Zeke Badger trudged on wearily along

* the road, a bitter feeling for all humanity
+ at his heart, a look of sullen anger and
% dejection upon his bearded face. H

“Hit’s no use,” he muttered, gloomily,

 

“T reckon thar an’t nobody ter ever speak
a good word ter Ole Zeke again. They}
say I’m lazy an’—an’ triflin’. Mebby I am |
—mebby I orter be treated like a dog—but
some time I’m goin’ ter show ’em what
Ole Zeke’s made of. I an’t no dog |
an’——” |

He threw out his hand with a gesture |
of anger and determination. |

A sound-of hurrying feet in the road}
behind him broke upon his gloomy medi- |
tations, and, turning, he beheld Nora}
Sanders running toward him, her face
flushed with the exercise, her pale yellow
hair falling in tangled masses about her
shoulders, |

She stopped, panting for breath, as she |
met Zeke’s inquiring gaze.

“Tf you'll wait till Bob comes back,”
she panted, “I~—I— will ask him to let
you ride——”

Zeke stood for some moments looking
in silent wonder at the child before him.

“An’ ye really want me ter ride in yer
wagon, do ye, litile ’un?” he said, a
changed look coming over his face.

“Yes,” answered Nora, “I am sorry that
Bob talked to you the way he did. Won’t
you wait and ride with us? I will ask
Bob, and I know——”

Zeke shook his head.

“No—no, little ’un,” he said, “I reckon
lken walk. I an’t fit ter ride with ye—
I’m no ’count an’ triflin’, an’—an’ a
tramp.”

“He turned and stood gazing silently
across the prairie.

Nora approached, and laid her hand
upon his arm,

“TIT never said you was a tramp, did I?”
she asked, turning her large blue eyes
beseechingly up to his.

“No, ye didn’t, little *un—Heaven bless
ye—yer the onlywne that’s spoke a good
word to Ole Zeke, an’—an’——” ,

His voice choked with emotion, and
tears came into his eyes. Then he turned
and strode silently on, leaving Nora
standing in the road.

She watcbed him till he had disap-
peared over aswell in the prairie, and
then retraced her steps to the wagon.

Presently she heard the crack of Bob's
gun, and saw a flock of ducks rise from
the pond, then another shot, and one of
the fowls went down, while the rest rose
high in the air,and flew away to the
north,

Nora watched them till, becoming mere
specks against the sky, they disappeared
on the blue rim of the horizon.

A half hour passed, and still Bob did
not return,

Presently Bob returned, bringing two
ducks.

“IT told you I’d get some,” said Bob,
triumphantly, displaying two fine mal-
lards. “I shot one of them in the water,
and it took meé a long time to get him
out. That’s what kept me so long.”

“See, the sun is almost down,” said
Nora, “and it will be late in the night
before we get home.” .

“Yes, but I know the way,” answered
Bob, as he climbed into the wagon, and
started the team forward at a brisk trot.

A few moments later the red sun went
down like a great wheel of fire across the
dreary waste of prairie, and a dark purple
cloud stole up from the rim of the north-
ern horizon.

Little puffs of wind eddied and whirled
miniature columns of dust along the
road, and swept through the dry grass
with a sharp, rattling sound.

Darkness came rapidly down. The pur-
ple clouds in the north grew ashy black
as the gloom deepeued.

“T believe there is going to bea storm,”
said Bob, and he lashed the mules into a
sharper trot, and the wagon went lumber-
ing on its way.

Presently a great wave of cold wind
swept through the grass; and, turning
his face to the north, Bob could see a
great mass of dark brown objects. ad-
vancing swiftly across the prairie. Then
another great rush of cold wind struck
the wagon, and roared through the dead
grass, penetrating the thin garments of
Bob and Nora, and causing them,to shiver
with cold.

Then the dark objects that Bob had seen
advancing across the prairie aren by,
racing and chasing each other like a
pack of hungry wolves.

Nora uttered a cry of terror, and clung
to Bob's side, but the next moment she
broke into a laugh,

“What's the matter?” asked Bob,

“I thought they were wolves after
us——”

“Just like a girl to think them tumble
weeds was wolves,” said Bob, with an
air of superiority. “I reckon you ought to
know better than that. Gee whiz! how
cold it’s getting.” /

The wind now was blowing a gale, and
fine particles of snow and sleet were be-
ginning to whirl through the freezing

air.

The darkness was now increasing at
every step, and it was with the greatest
difficulty that Bob could see the road.

NEWS.

 

He took the blanket that was folded up
on the seat-board, and, placing it around

3437

 

Nora, the
bottom of

the shoulders of himself and
two seated themselves in the
the wagon-bed.

The snow and sleet, blown almost hori-
zontally by the fierce wind, was now fall-
ing in blinding clouds, The air was in-
tensely cold, and growing colder at every
breath,

Bob leaned over the fore gate of the
wagon, and lashed the mules into a run.
Already he was shivering with the cold,
and Nora's teeth were chattering as if
she had a chill.

“It's a blizzard, Nora,” cried Bob, in
an agitated voice. “We must run for it—
for no one can stand this cold long.” and
he lashed the mules with the long
switch, and urged them forward at the
top of their speed.

Mile after mile was passed, and the
storm still increased in its fury. The
great whirling clouds of snow cut the
face like flying needles, and the icy wind
swept over the desolate prairie, and
passed through the long grass with a

| gute
sharp, hissing sound.

Another mile was passed, and it was
with the greatest difficulty that Bob
urged the refractory mules through the
blinding storm.

Presently the team turned half-around,
and refused to move another step against
the cutting wind.

Bob lashed the mules vigorously, and
shouted at the top of his voice to the
stubborn animals, but to no purpose,
They stood as if rooted to the spot, their
heads bent downward, their whole frames
quivering with the intense cold.

Again and again Bob sought to. urge
them forward, but in vain. A despairing
ery escaped his lips, as he threw down
the switch, and Nora clung to his side,
her hands fast growing numb in the
freezing air.

“It's no use, Nora,” said Bob, despair-
ingly. “The team won't travel against
this wind—we muat get out and—and
try to find our way on foot.”

He leaped from the wagon, and assisted
Nora to the ground. Then, wiaebioy the
warm blanket about Nora’s shoulders,
the two stood there for a moment in the
storm and darkness, not knowing what
direction to take. Bob glanced hurriedly
about him, and uttered a sob of disap-
pointment.

“Nora,” he said, “we are off of the
road, and—and I don't know what direc-
tion to take to find our way home.”

Nora burst out crying, and drew the
blanket more closely about her with her
chilled and benumbed hands,

“But we must not stand here,” said
Bob, desperately; “we must try to find
our way home—and as soon as_ possible—
nothing can live long in this storm,”
and, taking Nora by the arm, he led her
away through the darkness.

The hissing sleet and snow cut their
faces as they hurried on, and the wind
roared like the rushing of a great river.

On—on they ran, through the wild
storm, their breath coming in short. hard
gasps, the long grass swirling about their
feet, tripping and staggering them at
every step.

The night had grown intensely dark,
but piles of drifted snow. loomed gray
and ghostly through the gloom, Nowa
jack-rabbit would jump from its cover in
the grass, aad leap swiftly away, and
wild birds starting up beneath their feet,
would fly with screams of fright away
into the darkness.

Bob and Nora had reached the top of a
little hill, and were hurrying down its
gentle slope, when Bob staggered, ut-

‘tered a little cry, and fell downward into

a deep gully, dragging Nora with-him
as he fell.

His head struck violently against some
aa substance, and he was knocked sense-
ess.

Nora staggered to her feet. stunned and
bewildered. She called loudly to Bob,
but no answer came from him as he lay
there senseless at her feet. She tried to
lift him up, but staggered and fellina
heap at his side, an agonized sob escaping
her lips.

The blinding snow was eddying about
her, and descending in great sheets into
the littie gully.

The icy wind seemed to pass right
through her thin garments, and her
hands and feet were fast becoming chilled
and without feeling. Again and again
she called frantically to Bob, and sought
to rouse him, but only the howling of the
wind came in response; and the hissing
snow and sleet swept about her on the
eddying blast.

She turned her white face up to the

itiless sky, and uttered a brief prayer to

Teaven, while the tears that came from
her eyes froze upon her cheeks.

Young as-she was she knew the awful
danger that threatened her, and in her
despair she called at the ton of her voice
for help, and then fell half-senseless at
Bob's side,

How the wind roared across the hills
and whistled through the gullies !

How long Nora lay there she could
never tell, Sbe heard the snow falling

 

about her, but she heeded it not. Now
the roaring of the wind seemed far away,
and the swirling now had lost its icy
touch. How warm it was growing;
surely, it was only a@ summer night.
Could it be snow that was falling about
her? or was it only the white blossoms
falling from the haw trees? How sleepy
she was growing. Hark! was that some
one calling? Something is approaching.
A dark figure bends over her, and then
something is lifting her up—she utters a
little sob of terror and—all is a blank.

* * * * *

“Thar, now, I reckon ye are comin’
round.”

Nora opened her eyes, and saw the
bearded face of Zeke Badger bending
over her, while he was busily rubpving
her aching hands and face with snow.

She was lying on a pallet, in the corner
of a little dug-out. The red flames in the
sod fire-place danced and sparkled mer-
rily, sending the black shadow of Zeke
leaping wildly against the opposite wall.
Nora cast a look of wonder about her,
and, turning her eyes to Zeke, she
cried:

“Oh, what has become of Bob? he’s
hurt, and is lying out in the snow——”
“No, he an’t, little ’un,” said Zeke,
kindly. “He's rignt hyar by yer side;
but I come pretty near not findin’ ye, an’
jist heard ye holler in a nick o' time.”

“I'm all right, Nora,” said Bob; “but
we'd have both froze to death out there
if it hadn’t been for—for Mr. Badger.”

“Yes,” said Zeke, “I hadn't seen ye
pass, an’ when the blizzard came, I went
ter look for ye. When I found the wagon
an’ the frozen mules I reckoned there
wasn’t much chance fer ye, but I jist
kept lookin’ round till finally I heard ye
holler an’—hyar ye air.”

“Mr. Badger,” said Bob, in a choking
voice, “you have saved our lives, and—
and after I had spoken to you the way I
did. Can you—you—forgive me? I will
never be so rude again while I live.”

He paused to choke back a little sob
that rose to his lips.

“Thar, now,” said Zeke, kindly. “Thar
an’t nothin’ to fergive, an’ I reckon I
han’t done more’n my dooty——”

“T shall never forget the lesson your
kindness bas taught me,” said Bob, and
he never did.

The next morning the two youngsters
were taken home in Zeke’s sledge, where
their safe arrival was hailed with joy by
their father, who feared they had perished
in the blizzard.

THE GOOD NEWS

Story T ellers Club.

OOD NEWS HALL, the nicely-
furnished quarters of the club,
was hardly as crowded as usua
when President Charlie declared

oa meeting open at eight o’clock. ‘T
absentees came stragg 1 by
however, and after all » eae
for, Charlie arose and said, with a quiz-
zical smile: eee ae

“I presume these fine summer nights ~
offer great attractions, eh? Well, it won’t
be long before we will go into camp for a
sojourn during the hot months. After we
hear this evening’s story—which is on a
camping subject—we will form a com-
mittee on ways and means, and arrange
a plane for the summerencampment. [
have recently received several letters
from Goop NEws clubs suggesting that
we combine and pitch our tents together.
The subject will be discussed later.”

At a sign from the president one of the
members—a stalwart, manly lad, whose
fresh-colored face and well-knit frame
betokened an acauaintance with athletic
sports—sauntered up to the platform and
told the following-tale of

THE BUGLE CALL FOR AID.

Before my family moved East. last year
I lived in a small village near the center
of Wisconsin. Within a dozen miles of °
my home was a beautiful sheet of water
known as Pine Lake, where we boys
used to camp in the summer time.

There were three of us who generally
“chummed” it, as the saying goes. Bob
Blackstone, Will Gorgas, and myself
were inseparable in schovl.and out. We
were members of the same class, all three
of us about as near the tail end as possi-
ble, and if anything out of the common
happened in town the eyes of every old
gossip were turned in our direction.

We were blamed for a great deal of
which we were not guilty, but our shoul-
ders were broad and we didn’t even go
to the trouble of offering a denial—it
probably wouldn't have done any good,
anyway. Along about the latter part of
June last year we three—we called our-
selves the Three Graces; Face, Soap, and
Carroty, although we were known as

 
3438

the “ Disgraces” in town—resolved to go
camping on the shores of Pine Lake.

Face—Bob Blackstone—owned a twelve
by fourteen tent in prime order; Will, or
“Soap,” as we called him, contrived to
borrow three canvas cots, and I furnished
certain cooking utensils and my good
will. It was easy enough to obtain per-
mission from our parents, as vacation had
commenced, and—well, in fact, the three
families and the rest of the village were
entirely willing that we should transfer
ourselves and ovr scrapes to another
location, if only for a month.

“Face’s” father was the rich man of
the town. He owned the saw-mill and
two-thirds of the stock of the only bank,
and was looked up to in consequence.

He was rather a close-fisted and purse-
proud man to his neighbors, but was al-
ways generous enough to Bob, so we
knew that we could depend upon that lad
to furnish the necessary money for our
expenses during the outing.

“Soap” Gorgas’ father and mine were
not so well-to-do as Mr, Blackstone, but
we managd to scrape up enough money
to purchase a couple of needful articles
for the use of the camp.

I used my allowance in the acquisition
of a double-barreled shot-gun, while
“Soap,” to our great surprise, bought a
silver-plated bugle. When he produced
it from his satchel on our arrival at Pine
Lake, Face gave him a withering look of
disgust.

“What in creation do you want with
that horn, Soap Gorgas?” he asked. “You
are a gilly, you are.”

“(Quite correct, Face,” cheerfully replied
Will, attempting to blow a fanfare on the
bugle, but with poor results. He was a
lad of very even temper, and would much
rather agree with a person than argue the
question.

“You make me tired,” continued Bob,
impatiently. “ Why didn’t you buy some-
thing of practical use, such as mosquito
netting or hammocks instead of that old
tin horn.”

“*Music hath charms to sooth the sav-
age breast,’ ” quoted Will, sweetly. “I
know what a bear you can be sometimes,
Face, sol brought this along to counter-
act your growling.”

“T’ll counteract you, confound you!”
cried Bob, making a spring toward Will,

‘but that agile lad dodged and fled,
Reaching a place of safety, he made such
discordant notes upon his bugle that Bob
and | were glad to sue for peace.

“Stop that noise, and we’ll say no more
about your blamed old horn,” said Bob,
“Come on, let’s turn to and pitch the
tent.”

By virtue of his strength of character
and size, Bob Blackstone was the leader
of our little clique. He was a good boy at
heart, but very impatient and overbear-
ing at times. I had had several brief
quarrels with him, as boys will, but we
always made it up in due time and were
better friends afterward.

We had made the trip from home on a
farmer’s wagon, borrowed for the occa-
sion. ‘The driver had dumped our things
upon the ground near the lake shore, and
there they lay awaiting our pleasure.

They say that when hard work is sport
a boy witidabor forever, and it was so in
our case that day. At homea task such
as splitting a few logs of kindling wood,
or running to the grocery always made
me very tired, but out at camp I’ worked
like a Trojan all day and did not mind it
at all. Peculiar, isn’t it?

It was almost dark before we had
arranged everything. Bob Blackstone was
an old hand at camping, and knéw ex-
actly what to do. After pitching the tent
we Collected a lot of pine needles and
strewed them over the floor, making an
excellent and most odorous carpet.

While I was attending to the needles,
Will constructed a small furnace several
yards from the tent. He dug a hole in
the ground about three feet square and
lined it with stones. On top of the walls
thus formed, he placéd an old oven
brought from home, and, as a final touch,
pas it with clay found near the

ake.

In the meantime, “Face” Blackstone
had dragged to camp four poles cut in
the woods. These he planted at the differ-
ent corners of a selected spot back of the
tent. After binding the tops with strong
twine, he covered the four sides and the
roof with mosquito bars, and then called
us out, to see the dining-room.

“We will put our little table in the
center, and thus eat in peace and comfort
while the sand-flies and mosquitoes are
consuming their souls in envy,” he ex-
plained.

‘Bob was nothing, if not luxurious.

Well. we settled down to camp life in
due course, and enjoyed ourselves hugely.
What with fishing, hunting, and tramps
penen the surrounding mountains, our

ime was fully occupied.

“Soap” Gorgas persisted in his lessons

on the bugle. He had brought a book of
army-calls from town, and every evening
aflet supper, practiced on the “tin horn,”
23 Bob called it. ;

GooD

Everything went on swimmingly until advancing with the gun.

NEWS.

“Now, you

the fifth day of our stay in camp. On the} make tracks from this camp just as fast

afternoon in question we had gone out on
the Jake in an old row-boat to catch fish
for supper.

It had been our practice to simply tie
the -flaps of the tent when we left, more
for the purpose of keeping out stray ani-
mals than aught else.

fear of their coming, as the lake was re-
mote from either a railway or frequented
country pike.

You can imagine our amazement there-
fore, when, on rowing to shore that after-
noon, we saw that two strangers had
calmly taken possession of our camp and
were apparently enjoying themselves.

One was puffing away at a short clay
pipe, and the smoke curling lazily above
his head proclaimed that he was quite
content with his surroundings,

The other—who seemed to be_ the
younger—was seated on a box bathing
his right arm in our wash-basin, A red-
dish tinge to the water-indicated that he
was wounded or had injured himself in
some way.

When we sighted them the
strangers had their backs turned toward
us, but hearing the splash of “Soap’s”
oar, which he had dropped in his sur-
prise, they glanced around at us and
smiled in a friendly way.

“Well, of all that’s wonderful,’
lated Bob, leaping from the boat.

ejacu-
Strid-

sarcastically : a

“Making yourselves at home, I see,
gentlemen,”

The one with the short pipe languidly
waved his hands, and after a few puffs
replied, coolly:

“This camp belong to you kids?”

“We have that impression,” responded
Bob, evidently incensed at the speaker's
tone, and the use of the despised word
“kids.”

“Nice camp.”

“You evidently appreciate it,” broke in
Will, placing his hands upon his hips.
“Where in the duse did you come
from?”

The fellow with the injured arm—who
had hitherto continued bathing a small
round wound suspiciously like that gen-
erally caused by a revolver bullet—arose
to his feet at this question, and said:

“Don’t take offense, young fellow. We
have been on a hunting trip in the
mountains for the last two days. This
morning I accidently discharged my re-
volver in such a way that the bullet
went through the fleshy portion of my
arm, We were on our way to the nearest
town when we ran across your camp, and
thought we would stop and rest for an
hour or two.”

The fellow spoke fairly, but something
in his appearance made me feel that he
was not telling the truth. Both he and
his companion were dressed flashily, and
seemed to be, from their looks, prone to
dissipation.

“Oh, you have been hunting, eh?”
oe rewarked Bob, somewhat molli-

ed.
~ “Yes,”

“From what town did you start?”

“T think it was—er—what was the
name of that place, Jim?’ said the
younger man, appealing to his com-
panion,

“T don’t know,” replied the fellow with
the pipe, rather sullenly. “I always for-
get the names of these miserable little
country places. It don’t make any differ-
ence, does it? If these young fellows an’t
satisfied with our looks let them say so,
and we’ll move on.”

I noticed a quick glance of warning
pass from the injured man _ to the other,
then the former remarked hastily:

“Don’t mind my friend, young gentle-
men, He’s rather out of sorts because
we have to give up our hunting trip,
and——”

“Don’t mention it, sir,” interrupted
Bob. “If we can do anything for you we
are perfectly willing, hut, as for your
mate, he hardly goes the right way about
asking for a favor. .This camp is ours,
and, if he don’t like our questions, he
had better leave at once. e certainly
did not ask him to come here.”

Bob had hardly finished speaking when
the elder stranger sprang to his feet, and
advanced toward him with his hand
raised.

“You young whelp; I’ll teach you how
to speak to a man!” he cried, angrily.

In an instant I had sprung to Bob’s
side, while Will, white with rage, darted
into the tent and speedily emerged with
my shot-gun. The wounded stranger
stood staring at his companion for a
second, and then broke out, harshly:

“Jim Vance, you are a fool. Can’t you
be quiet for an hour, or do you want to
a involred in senseless rows all your

ife?”

“T don’t care. I’m not going to let any
kid sass me to my face,” howled the in-
furiated man. “I'll break his jaw in
two——”

 

“No you won’t!” shouted Will Gorgas,

As for tramps, or |

other wandering vagabonds, we had no| away, followed by his friend.

 

two}

 

as your legs will carry you, or I'll blow
a hole through your empty head. Get!
Forward, march |”

He aimed the gun
mined ai: that the enrayed stranger
speedily concluded to obey. Grabbing up
a satchel from the ground he strode
Neither
spoke a word nor did they look back, and
in a few moments our unwelcome visitors
were lost to sight in the forest.

“Well, did you ever see such nerve in
all your life?” finally exclaimed Bob, with
a short laugh. “That oldest one is cer-
tainly a dandy. Fancy his trying to run
our camp.”

“T don’t believe a word of their story
about the hunting business,” I replied.
“It’s my opinion they are up to no good.
Both of them look like rogues, and I
wouldn’t be surprised if—— 2

was suddenly interrupted by a cry
from Will, who had sauntered around
the tent for the apparent purpose of see-
ing if any more of the same class of
strangers were lurking in the vicinity.

“Come here, boys! Quick! I have made
a find,” he called out, excitedly.

We hastily darted past the tent, and
came upon Will standing near our im-
provised kitchen. He held a small satchel
in his hand, and, as we joined him, he
exclaimed :

“Here is a bag forgotten by our friends

with such a deter-

ing up to camp, he continued, rather | the hunters. and what do you think? It

is full of silverware.”

“Silverware?” echoed Bob.

“Yes: look at these napkin-rings, and
this nut-cracker. Where on earth do you
suppose those fellows picked them up?”

Suddenly Bob, who had taken the bag

|} from Will, uttered a cry of astonishment,

Holding up a quaintly-cerved orange cup,

| he shouted:

“Jumping Moses! this belongs to my
sister Clara. See the name engraved on
the bowl? Our house has been robbed by
those scoundrels, I’}] beta dollar. Quick !
get the shot-gun, Carroty; we must fol-
low them at once.”

It. was evidently as he said. I saw the
words “Clara Blackstone” carved on the
orange cup, and.also the letter “B” en-
graved on other articles. It was proof
positive that the banker's house had
been burglarized.

After a brief deliberation we concluded
to leave Will in charge ot the camp, in
case the robbers tcok it into their heads
to return, and then armed with the gun,
Bob and I started off in chase of our pre-
vious visitors.

As we left, Will flourished an old pistol
we had brought from town, and bade us
bring them back dead or alive.

From the determined look upon Bob’s
face, I knew that he meant to capture the
robbers, cost what it may. When the two
strangers left our camp they had followed
a path leading to a small collection of
houses known as Smithburg.

A thick forest of trees and underbrush
hid the path from view after it had pene-
trated a short distance. This fact caused
the strangers to quickly disappear, as
mentioned before.

“We will have to proceed with cau-
tion, Bob,” I said, “as those fellows may
hide in the vicinity of the camp, and
watch their chances to return.”

“For their satchel, eh?”

“Yes, They must have remembered it
by this time.”

“TI wonder if they are armed?”

“Bound to be. Such rogues don’t travel
without weapons, I fancy the injured
fellow must have received his wound at
the time ot the robbery.”

“No doubt; and that very fact makes
me rather uneasy. They must have been
discovered and fired upon either at the
house or while leaving it. I hope that no
person has been hurt at home.”

During the above conversation, which
had been carried on ina low tone, we
had left the path and were proceeding
swiftly in a parallel direction. Ever and
anon we would pause and listen for the
sounds of footsteps. _We had covered at
least a quarter of a mile in this manner
when ieee suddenly came to our ears
the faraway sound of a bugle call.

The notes were faint but clear, and we
readily distinguished them. It was the
assembly as given in military tactics.
As we stood listening in silent amaze-
ment, the notes died away, to be almost
immediately succeeded by the dull report
of a pistol. That settled it.

Simultaneously we turned and fled in
the direction of the camp. Bob managed
to gasp as we ran:

“It’s Will’s tin horn, Carroty, and
he’s in trouble, Those confounded rob-
bers have stolen a march on us.”

Not another word was spoken. To this
day I do not know how long it took us
to run that quarter of a mile, but at the
time it seemed to be not more than two
minutes. At last we reached the edge of
the woods, which was within a dozen
yards of the camp. ‘

Bob, who was in advance, stopped sud-
denly and waited until I had gained his

side. He then silently took the shot-gun
from my hands and crept softly into the*
little clearing,

Standing with his back toa tree, and

with the ancient pistol in one hand, was
Will Gorgas facing the two burglars.
They were several feet from him, and the
elder of the twain was just in the act of
leveling a revolver at our chum.
_ It was plainly evident we had arrived
in the nick of time. Suddenly one of the
ruffians broke the silence, saying, in a
harsh voice:

“Drop that horse-pistol, and turn over
our satchel, young fellow, or I’ll send you
to kingdom come; d’ye hear?”

“He will do nothing of. the kind, you
scoundrel!” shouted Bob, advancing to-
ward them with the double-barreled gun
leveled in their direction. “Suppose you
drop your revolver instead.”

At the sound of his voice both robbers .

wheeled around. They were taken un-
awares, however, and after a moment’s
hesitation sullenly submitted. While
Bob covered them with his weapon, Will
and I disarmed the one with the revolver,
and then securely bound both,

A half-hour later we escorted them
Smithburg, and from ‘there conveyed
them to our bome in a wagon borrowed
for the occasion, While on the way Will
explained that we had not been gone
from the camp more than twenty minutes
before the burglars made their appear-
ance at the edge of the woods.

“IT was expecting them, however,” he
added, with a chuckle, then patting his
bugle affectionately, he added:

“You boys have called this a tin horn,
and laughed at me when I was practic-

to. -«

ing, but if it hadn’t been for this piece ,

of metal we would have lost the silver-
ware, and the robbers, too.”

A few miles from Smithburg we ran
across a posse of deputy sherifis scouring
the woods in search of the burglars. They
took charge of our prisoners, and soon
had them behind the bars in the village *
lockup. We found the Blackstone family
in a state of great excitement, but fortu-
nately none were injured. It transpired
‘that the thieves had been discovered at
their nefarious work just before day-
break by Mr. Blackstone himself. He ,
had driven them off at the point of a re-
volver, but not before they had succeeded
in securing the booty.

Several parties had chased the daring
robbers into the mountains, where they
had escaped only to run into our arms, as
it were, From that day the “Three
Graces” were rather respected, but I am
sorry to confess that we hardly merited
the change. We returned to camp in due
season, and enjoyed ourselves hugely for
several weeks. The burglars were sent to»
prison, where they still remain,

It is hardly necessary to add that we
ermitted Will to perform upon his “tin
norn” entirely undisturbed thereafter, al-
though, tu tell the truth, the discordant
notes and shrill blasts resulting from his
efforts were very trying to our patience.

*

When the athletic young member of
the club had finally concluded his story
of the “Bugle CalJ,” it was so late that
President Charlie decided to defer the “
arguments on the camping subject until
the next meeting, so he therefore de-
clared the meeting adjourned until the
following Saturday.

KING OF POISONOUS SNAKES.

A monarch among poisonous snakes is
the enormous hamadryas, which grows
to be as much as fourteen feet in length,
and is so fierce that it will sometimes
attack and even chase any one who ven- ”
tures near to its nest. Native snake-
charmers, who will handle the fiercest ©
cobras fearlessly, are usually loath to
touch a hamadryas, though I have occa-
sionally seen a large specimen of this
venomous reptile in their bags. It lays
its eggs in a heap of decaying leaves, *
which it collects for the purpose, and
sits upon the top to keep off intruders. A
road through the jungle will sometimes
be closed against all comers by a pair of
these snakes, and woe betide the unfortu-
nate traveler who stumbles unawares upon
the nest. The hamadryas feeds largely
upon other snakes, but it is fortunately
somewhat rare,
not always aggressive. Indeed, it some-
times happens that it is quite unwilling
to strike. Superficially, it is not unlike
a harmless rock snake; and not very long
ago, in Burmah, a man brcught one in *
from the jungle and kept it loosé in his
house for some days, under the impres-
sion that it was one of these creatures.
During the whole of its captivity it never «
attempted to bite any one, and its captor.

* * * * *

.

who had been familiarly pulling it about 5

by the tail, was only apprised of his mis-
take by a forest officer who happened to
turn up and who knew a good deal about
snakes. It is easy to imagine the haste

Curiously’ enough, it is ~~

a

with which the amateur snake-charmer  —

 

proceeded to dispese of his captive. a

5

 
GrooDp

 

AMONG
S
{

Goon News ¥

LUBS.

SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column is for Goob
Clubs only. No notices will be
ting such as are genuine GOOD NkEws Club
notices, and nothing in tl hape of an advertise-
nent will be allowed.
have the names of the president and secretary of
the club attached. For information concerning
GooD NEWS Club Badge and Electrotypes see ad-
vertisement on last page. ]

Seite

CLUB NOTICES.

inserted |

y club notice should |

 

Are you not a member of the GOOD NEWs Union
Corresponding Club of Braddock ? If not, you
should join right away. The object of this club is

to provide pleasure and instruction by promoting, |

pondence on all subjects, to make members
pg at oneend of the country acquainted with
This is what we

cor
li
members living at the other end.

are doing, 80 joiv at once, The first member joining |

State admitted free and his name entered
18 Supreme representative of his State.
We have some handsomely colored membership |
cards now. Initiation fee, 10 cen ladic dmit-
ted free. Address the corresponding cretary, H.
Chas, Black, 407 Belle avenue, Braddock, Pa.

The White City GOOD NEWS Club of Chicago, TL,
will admit three boys from € ry State and Terri-
tory in the Union and foreign countries to mem-
bership free; ladies free; officers of other clubs |
free. Organized for corresponding and pleasure,
To the boys and girls getting us the most members
for the month of June will be given valuable
prizes. Tnitiation fee, 10 c I +8, 10
cents in advance, Office uss, presi-

vice-president; P. Barton, |
asurer; F, Rennhak, assistant |
‘y. Address all communications to the sec-
Y, 4436 Cottage Grove avenue, inclosing stamp,
sept girls,

Now is the time to join a good corresponding |
club, 80 join the GOOD NEWS Club of Fort Dodge, |
lowa, Handsome colored membership cards, Neat |
and artistic lists issued every alternate month and
sent to members. Also you will receive the Club
Gazette, an monthly devoted to club news and
interests, f . We issue more printed matter than |
any other club, consequently we have more mein- |
bers. Initiation fee, 10 cents; dues, 5 cents per |
month in advance, Ladies and foreign members
free; no dues. Address all communications to Geo.
W. 'T'remain, secretary, Fort Dodge, Iowa.

A stamp from China or New Zealand is worth
something. You can get alot of them if you cor-
respond with members of our club living in those
countries. We are getting members from all over
the world: so itis worth your while to join Goop
News Corresponding and Exchange Club of North
America. Initiation fee, 5 cents; dues, 5 cents,
monthly. Ladies and foreigners tree. Send stamp
to the secretary for a handsomely printed copy of
our constitution and by-laws and an application
blank. Irving Edwin Blake, president; John H.
Hagen, secretary, Riverhead, L. I., N.Y.

This is the club you want to join, boys, if you
like to read libraries of any kind. “You will get
more libraries to read by joining this club than in
any other way. The Buckeye GOOD NEWs Reading
Club of Sandusky, Ohio, just been organized,
with the following officers: Rudolph Stawetzky,
president; Oscar Wendschuh, vice-president;
William Hupp, secretary and treasurer. Initiation
tee, 10 cents; dues, 5 cents a month in advance, sil-
ver or stamps. For further information address
the secretary, William Hupp, Osborn street, San-
dusky, Ohio.

Look you here! Doyou want to correspond with
members of the GooD NEWS Golden State Corres-
ponding Club? If so, mark this notice, and write
at once to Jos, F. Dolan, 731 Harrison street, San
Francisco, Cal, secretary of this club. Ladies and
foréign members will be admitted free. To others
the initiation fee is but 5 cents; dues 5 cents
monthly in advance, List of members, , will
be sent you. The Club Pilot will shortly appear,
published by this club. Write at once and get your
names in the first number of the above,

Have you joined the GOOD NE Surprise Club
of York, Pa.? If not, look at the initiation fee. Why,
it’s only 5 cents, and 5 cents dues, The month after
you join you will receive a big surprise package:
you will also receive a large journal of eight pages.
‘Yell all your friends to join, and they will receive
a surprise package also, as We want members from
all over the world. Allen Spots, presiden Joseph

tosenbaum, vice-president; Jsie Margulies, treas-
urer. Address Lewis Margulies, secretary, York,
Pa.

The Golden State GOOD NEWS Club wishes a
few new members, before putting new lists to
print. We also wish representatives from each
county of Alabama, Connecticut, Illinois, Lonisi-
anaand Minnesota. Initiation fee, 5 cents; due
5 cents monthly ; ladies and foreign members fr
Now is the time to join, while the initiation fee is |
low. Lists of members, etc., sent to alljoining.
Address Jos. F. Dolan, 731 Harrison street, San
Francisco, Cal.

John M. Simpson, of 88534 Ninth avenue, New
York city, would like to hear from all young men
living in New York who would wish to help him in
publishing a club paper.

James Herbert would like to join some Goop
NEws Corresponding Club, Care Amateur Pub-
lishing Co., 28544 Middle street, Portland, Me.

Ralph 8, LeRoy would like to join some Goop
NEws Corresponding Club Care Amateur Pub-
lishing Co., 23544 Middle street, Portland, Me.

Robert Love, age 13, 2414 Penna. avenue, Balti-
more, Md., would like to hear from GooD NEWS
Bicycle Clubs, with a view to joining.

Jacob Weiss, 718 E. 6th street, New York city,
would like to join a GOOD NEws Corresponding
aud Exchange Club.

——>--->_—_——_-.

HE KNEW.

from ead
on the li

Merchant—“ Have you had any experi-
ence in chinaware?”

Applicant—“ Yearsvof it, sir.”

Merchant—“ What do you do when you
break a valuable piece?”

Applicant—“ Well—er—I usually put it
together again, and place it where some
customer will knock it over.”

Merchant—“ You’ll do.”

> 6 >.
From the American aloe tree are made

 

threads, needles, ropes, cables, paper,
clothing, soap, sugar, and brandy,

Qur Mail Bag.

eid

{Questions on subjects of ger
dealt with in the “Mail Ba
questions not answered. Goop NEws
two weeks in advance of date of pul ution, od

ers cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Conuuunications intended for
this column should be addressed Goop News “Mail
Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.)

C. 8. A., no addre —You had better read your
history. Lincoln never agreed to end the war and
leave the slaves as they were.

An Anxious Reader, Memphis, Tenn.—1. Watch
the announcements on the editorial page. 2. We
cannot answer this question.

O. J. M., Wheaton, I1l.—1. We cannot say. 2. Yes.
8. Edward Stratemeyer writes exclusively for
GOOD NEws. 4. No.

.—1. Your exchange is
Write it out again. 2. No

Tana, Temple, Texas.—Search the advertising
columus of the dramatic papers for the address you
wish,

S. FE. L., Reynoldsville, Pa.—We do not publish
business addresses in this column.

GIA. H., West Harwich, Mass.—Read the notices
in the club column carefully.

No Name, Albany, N. Y.—A story of life among
the gypsies is on the way.

C. H. A., Chicago, Ill.—1. No premium, 2. Yes.

[Several communications left over to be answered
next week.)

me

“EXCHANGE

(Imporrant.—This column is f7eeto all our readers
We will not be responsible for transactions brought
about through notices in this column. All offers must
be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any
“for sale” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arms,
expl s, dangerous or worthless articles. If exchange
notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may be
understood that they were not accepted. Address all
communications for this column ic “Exchange De-
partment.”]

Reps aw

ROLLER ORGAN.—A. R. Johnson, Box 14, Hel-
metta, N. J., has a roller organ with. thirteen
rollers to exchange for a camera with outfit or best
offer ; also Leather Stocking Tales aud 300 foreign
stamps for a 50c. and $1 canceled Columbian
stamp,

MISCELLANEOUS.—S, E. Mohney, Reynolis-
ville, Jefferson County, Pa., has a $1 camera and
outfit, one (4a) font printing outfit, one hand scroll
saw and desigus picture cards, 26 pieces coun-
terfeit money (currency) detector, mounted on
sard-board; a dime saving bank, etc., for best offer.
Small printing peess preferred. All letters an-
swered,

NOVELS.—Ralph Williams, Orange, N. C., has
novels to exchange for early volumes of boys’ pa-
per. Write for particulars. z

READING MATTER.—Joseph ©, Simoneau, 6
Madden Place, Marlboro, Mass., will give papers
and libraries for the same. All letters answered.

PAPERS AND STAMPS,—E. G. Warner, 411
Potters avenue, Providence, R.I., has two volumes
popular papers, U.S. and foreign stamps, and an
international stamp album to exchange for best
offer, Columbian stamps preferred.

PAPERS.—M. Corpe, 1320S. Fifteenth street, St.
Joseph. Mo., has boys’ papers to exchange for small
électric motor.

COINS.—William Savage, 461 Dekalb avenue,
Brooklyn, N. Y., lias three different foreign coins
for each six or eight cent columbian ; eight for
fifteen'cents ; twenty for 1890, ninety cents orange.

MISCELLANEOUS.—O, H. Akin, Oquawka,
Henderson County, IL, has a wateh,a $12 snare
drum and sticks, some bound books, some novels
and several volumes of story papers, to exchange
for volumes of story papers or bound books. Send
list and receive his. All letters answered

MISCELLANEOUS.—W. E. Hooper, Cranston,

I., has one 5¢. novel to exchange for every ten
foreign Columbian stamps, mixed; one picture
card for avery five Columbian stamps: one
theater programme for every five Columbian
stamps.

MISCELLANEOUS.—H.C. Sandberg, 2239 Jack-
son avente, Ogden, Utah, will exchange six 25¢.
books, five 5c. books, box magical tricks, contain-
ing 17 pieces, and 200 all different stamps, and 20
boys’ papers, for best offer. All letters answered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—George W. Tremain, Fort
Dodge, Lowa, has volumes of story papers, a wig
(country boy), pair Indian elubs, and a dollar cam-
era and outfit (new), to exchange for printing or
photograph materials. Send for printed lists.

BOOKS, —George A. Frachner, Goffstown, N. H.,
has books and a pack of trick cards to exchange for
best offer in picture cards,

NOVELS.—C. W, Pierce, 176 Oxford street, Port-
land, Me., has a 10c. novel to exchange for every
6c. or 8c, Columbian stamp; a 5c. novel for 1é5c.
Columbian stamp.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Edward Browne, 506 Main
street, Paterson, N.J., has magical, theatrical, and
electrical goods, books, etc., to exchange for a
watch, bicycle, or camera.

NOVELS.—D. M. Weir, Emsworth, Allogheny
Co., Pa., would like to exchange $3.50 worth of ‘5
and 10-cent novels for punching-bag, or best offer.

MISCELLANEOUS.—P. Kane, Box 250, Char-
tiers, Pa., has 4 cloth-bound books on magic, silver
watch, and other articles, including sheet music,
books, etc., to exchange for best offer in type, bor-
ders, cuts, or other printing material,

STAMPS.—N, R. Lowry, 2950 Nueces street,
Austin, Texas,’ will exchange a brand-new stamp
album with spaces for 2,000 stamps for a 50-cent Co-
lumbian in fine condition.

TRICKS AND STAMPS.— Frank W. Benjamin
Box 281, Oxford, Mich., has about $10 worth a mag.
ical tricks to exchange for same; also about 300
foreign stamps for United States stamps. Please
send ey on pee if convenient, and he will
send his. ease state what countries you want.
All letters answered. 2 ane

NOVELS.—L. E. Warner, Chester, Conn., has 150
first-class novels to exchange for novels or reading
matter. =

MOTOR AND DYNAMO,—Harley Victor, Chris.
man, Il., has a one-eighth H. P. motor and dynamo
telegraph outfit and other electrical goods to ex.
change for scientific literature or best offer,

MISCELLANEOUS,—Charlie F. Coller, 9 Edge-
wood park, Rochester, N. Y., has novels, stamps,

 

NEWS.

pictures, books, etc., to exchange for electrical
books, papers, small dynamo batteries, induction
coil, telegraph instruments, or any other electrical
apparatus.

KEADING MATTER.—O. C. Morgner, 2213
South Ele nth street, St. Louis, Mo., has volumes
of boys’ paper to exchange for the same. Also 100
other story papers Lo exchange for best offer.

STAMPS.—Robert Smith, Ocean City, N. J., will
give eight different foreign and U i States
stamps for every picture card. he first boy that
makes an exchange will 1eceive a fife.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Charles H. Henken, 75 Park
street, Hackensack, N. J: has five volumes of boys’
papers to ange for a banjo, mandolin, or guitar,
or best offer.

MISCELLANEOUS. —Thomas H. Taylor, Box
156, Richfield Spa, N. Y., has story papers, stamps,
books, music, ete., to exchange for best offer of
snap-shot camera or elect
ferred. Ali letters answered.

STAMPS.—Daniel M. Mahoney, 247 Marion st.»
East Boston, Mas has eight 5-cent, two 4-cent,
one 3-cent, 219 2 and 107 l-cent
wubian stamps to exchange for best offer.
ters answered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—C. S. Pendleton, 810 S.
Main street, Findlay, Ohio, has 130 five and t
cent novels, bound books, 25c. and 50c.
old U.S. revenue and postage +
papers, ten picture cards, ten

All let-

games, and

al goods; the first pre- |

canceled Col- |

GorD AND SILVER

3439

marbles, to exchange for a good camping tent, not
less thau 8 by 10, or will exchange part of the
articles mentioned for vest offer in Loxing-gloves,

foot-ball or base-ball goods.
READING MATTER.—J. E. Woodruff, Box 273,
3randon, Vt., has 25 and 40-cent novels, boys’
Ss, story papers, etc., to exchange for best

ELECTRIC MOTOR,—Douglas Bonner, West
Brighton. Staten Island, N. Y., has an electric mo-
tor with extension shaft and fan, worth $4, to ex-
change for a fly-book with flies and leaders.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Gussie Mille, Newcastle,
Ind., has a good blow accordion and 300 Columbian
stamps to exchange fora self-inking printing press,
chase not less than 3x534.. Must be in good condi-
tion, All letters answered.

DYNAMO.—W. C. Martin, Butternut, Mich., has
a dynamo toexchange for a self-inking press, chase
not smaller than 4x7. Also a self-inking card press,
| chase 244x344, for type, cuts er magnet wire, No.
20D. ©. Above in fine condition.

MISCELLANEOUS.—John P. Corcoran, 191 Pine
st., Burlington, Vt., has a large number of books,
novels, games and boys’ papers to exchange for all
kinds of foreign and domestic stamps. Good ex-
change for United States album.

MISCELLANEOUS. — Stephen H. Dyer, 302
Franklin st. Allegheny City, Pa, will exchange

ys’ papers for stamps, novel for 50 U.S. stamps,
steam engine for best offer in stamps.

 

iz =

ABSOLUTELY GIVEN AWAY BY GOOD NEWS!
THE COMPETITION OPEN TO ALL.

$40
17 PRI

YOU CAN WIN ONE IF

In Gold and Silver.

$40
Maes, LF

YOU TRY.

In order to make GOOD NEWS more popular than ever with the boys and girls, we
have decided to begin a series of prize competitions in which ali, living far and near, shall

have an equal chance of winning prizes.
competitions by printing

Last week we began the first of these

GOOD NEWS GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE.

If you did not get a copy of last week’s issue, do so by all means. It may mean

money in your pocket.

ANSWER SLIP FOR THE PUZZLE.

For the convenience of our readers we
puzzle may be written.

publish a slip upon which answers to this

 

Countries.

Teas

Islands
Bae es
tak ce

‘5.
16.

Naane. cur ose

Post-Office.....

 

GOOD NEWS GEOGRAPHICAL PUZZLE.

My answer is as follows:

Rivers.

 

$10 in Gold for the First Correct Answer. .
* $5 each in Gold for the Second and Third Correct Answers.
$2.50 each in Gold for the next Four Best Answers.
$1 each in Silver for the next Ten Best Answers.

In filling out the above slip be sure

All the answers will be placed in a box, mixed up, and o

and add your name and address in full.
ned, one at a time, on June

9th, 1894. No answer received after noon of that day will be counted. Do not forget to

byte the right name after each number on

ave half the Puzzle right, you may win a prize.

of any kind required.

the slip. Remember that even if you only
There is nothing to pay, and no coupon

Letters must be addressed to PRIZE PUZZLE, GOOD NEWS, 27-29 Rose Street,

New York.

TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT THIS GREAT COMPETITION.

 
COO TS= IN Bae Wyss

 

ANXIOUS TO PLEASE.
/ reaped
‘SHIP 'VaRg

Weare

Pat—“The boss told me to get him the
biggest fish-hook I could find. I guess this
one ought to suit him.”

Tickiets.

BY CHARLES W. FOSTER.

pat Ms

Quickly Found.

Mother—‘‘See if you can’t find me two or
three tacks.”

Boy—‘‘Yes’m,”’

“But, stop; where are you going ?”

“Going to pick up a few tacks.”

“But you are taking your bicycle.”

“Yes’1n ; it’s a pneumatic,”

 

Suppressing a Nuisance. ;
Business Man—‘‘Here is a quarter for you to
go to the variety theater.”
Office Boy—‘*Thankeée, sir.
do tor you?”
3usiness Man—‘Yes. Learn a
am a little tired of the old ones.”

Wanted It Long.

Farmer Waybaek—“I promised my boys Vd
buy ’em afew bicycles ef they don’t cost too
much.” -

Dealer—‘ Well, here is a fine one at $95.”

“Wha——?”

“The one next to it is $80, next to that $75,
and so on. The farther we go along the row
the cheaper they get.’’

“Say, inister, how long is the row ?”

“The length of the store.”

“Wall, ef your store is "bout half a mile long,
V1) walk on with yeh.”

Anxious for Action.

First Boy—“If you don’t shut up, Vl liek
you.’ ;
_ Second Boy—“If you think you can lick we,
just come on and try it. You needn't stand
there jawin’ like a perfessional puyilist.”

3 Many Meanings.

Traveler—“Some expressions in the Chinese
language bave aS many as forty different
meanings.” ws

Little Miss—“Same way i

“You amaze me. Mentio

“Not at home.”

A Soft Answer.

Pretty Teacher (severely)—“Johnny ! Johnny
Stubbs! You are whispering again.”

Johnny (a smart boy)—‘*Please, IT was only
telling Winnie Winkles what nice things ail
the gentlemens said about you when you

ilked along the streets.”

Wise as Men.
Little Johnny—“Sammy Simms called mea
liar to-day.”
Mother—“I hope you were able to convince
him that your were a lover of truth.”
Little Johnny—‘Guess I did. { didn't let up
till he hollered ‘Enough.’”

An Early Release Likely.
Little Dick—‘“Mamma wanted me to take
- piano lessous, but I coaxed her to let me have
a fiddle.”
Little Dot—‘Do you like a fiddle?”
Little Dick—“No, but [ think she’ll get tired
of that quicker than a piano.”

Small but Important.

Rusty Nail (in the street)—“What are you
doing here?”

Carpet Tack—“ Waiting for a ride.”

“Do you think any of these fine people will
stop their carriages to pick up a worthless
little thing like you?”

“No: but the first bicyclist that comes along
will pick me up without stopping.”

Very Considerate.

Father-—Another poor average this month!
Why don’t yon learn your lessons ?”

Small Son—") don’t want to hurt mamma's
feelings.” i

“Hurt her feeling? How?”

“Mamma says she hopes no son of hers will
ever go into polities.”

“What has that to do with it?”

“Why, teacher is always sayin’ if [ study
hard Ill get to be President.”

Caught the Idea.
Teacher—“ ‘He who would rule must first
learn to obey.’ Do you understand that?”
Bright Boy (reflectively)—“I s’pose that
means that a jnan ought to get married before
he begins teachin’ school,”

Holding A Customer.
Antique Furniture Dealer—‘Was anybody
in while I was out?” ’
Boy—‘Only one lady. I showed her the
table that came over in the Mayflower, and the
Louis XIV. writing-desk, and everything, but
she didn’t seem to be satisfied. She said she

Anything I can

new song. I

English.”
one.”

 

Splendid Story Books
[- FF TO ALL OF OUR READERS!
R The Chance of a Lifetime, which will
Never Come Again.

Read over this List of Books.

Are They Not Just What You Would Like to Have?
PERILS OF THE JUNGLE. A Yale of African Adventure.
R. H. JAYNE. Illustrated.
ARTHUR HELMUTH. A Railroad Story for Boys. By E. S. ELLs.
306 pages. Illustrated.
THE RAJAH’S FORTRESS. A Hunting Story.
GRAYDON. 330 pages. Illustrated.

A NEW YORK BOY. A Story of Metropolitan Life.
PUTNAM. Illustrated.

By Lieut.

212 pages.

By WILLIAM MURRAY

By ARTHUR LEE

307 pages.

Jacob Marlowe’s Secret.
Illustrated.

$500; or, By Horatio ALGER,; JR.
pages.

TOM TRACY; or, The Trials of a New York Newsboy.
LEE PuTNAM. 218 pages. _ Illustrated.

330

By ARTHUR

 

Hiow You Can Obtain

n o TT ae ~ ryN )y bee TY.
ONE VOLUME OR THE ENTIRE SET.
We want everybody to see “Good News” and read it for a few weeks, just to
find oat what a really good boys’ and girls’ paper it is. So we have determined to give a
Trial Subscription of Ten Weeks for
only Twenty-Five Cents, Postpaid,

the subscription to start with some recent issue designated by the publishers, an issue
containing the opening of a spléndid serial story. ‘ ee

Now, to the person who will send us two of these trial subscriptions with the amount,
fifty cents, we will send, Free of Cost, his or her choice ot any one of the
above books. We will send two books for four subscriptions, three books for six
subscriptions, etc. : ia

You can get the subscriptions with but little trouble if you only try. In sending in
trial subscriptions, be sure and write out names and addresses in full, and mention the
book or books desired.

Such a chance to get valuable story books does not occur
every day. We obtained these books at far below their actual
value, and we intend to give our readers the benefit of our bar-
gain. This offer holds good only so long as the present stock
of books lasts. When this stock is gone the offer will not be
renewed. Address,

eo er be ee ee NA ee
YS FOC) 1-6 iE EVV SS,
27-29 Rose St., NEW YORK.

 

Fanny Hill; secure; $1. Novelty Agency, Port-

ng , 2 7 -holes in any of ’em. ;
cauldn’t find any worm-holes in any of Mention Good News.

She said they weren't old enough.”

“Hum! So you let her go, did you?”

““Y-e-s; but shell be back. TI told her if she’d
come in this afternoon you’d show her a fold-
ing bed that came over in the Ark.”

A Poor Outlook.
Neighbor—‘Going to give your boy a trade?”
Father—‘‘Wouldn’t do. He’s got a weak

back.’’
“A profession, then?’
“No use, Weak head.”
“Might do for politics.”
“No, Weak stomach.”

An Effective Peace Offering.

First Boy—‘‘Yes, the boss will be mad when
he finds out I ran away and came to the ball
gaine, but I’ll make it up with him when I get
back.’’ ‘

Second Boy—“‘How?”

First Boy—‘“I’ll show him the score.”

—_—_—__~> +. —__—_
WAS SHE AFTER HIM?

land, Me.
We guarantee $5 per day easy, quick
and sure to workers. Greatseller. Write

AG ENTS quick. Royal Mfg. Co,, Milwaukee, Wis,

Mention Good News.

Dialogues, Speakers, for School,
Club and Parlor, Catalogue free!
T.S. DENISON, Pub.Chicago,Ill.
Mention Good News,

MARRIAGE PAPER £555%,.c07 t,cn8
gents Want correspondents
GUNNELS’ MONTHLY, TOLEDO, OHIO.

Mention Good News. /

USEFUL INFORMATION.

There is no good reason why people should not be
well informed when they can become so for a small
sum. The following list of valuable books will be
sent post-paid to any address on receipt of price, 10
cents each:

The Album Writer’s As-
sistant.

The Way to do Magic.

How to Behaye in Society

Amateur’s ae of
Photography.

Out-Door Sports.

How to do Business.

The Young Gymnast,

The Hunter and Angler.

Short-Hand for Every-

body.
The Taxidermist’s Man-

ual,
Riddles and their An-
swers.
The Peerless Reciter.
The Young Hlocutionist.
Callahan’s Easy Method
of Ventriloquism.
The Standard Reciter.
Napoleon’s Book of Fate.
Imperial Fortune-Teller, Poe’s Foot-Ball.
Everyday Cook Book. The Book of Knowledge.

Address MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose st., N. ¥;

 

 

The Lover’s Guide to
Courtship and Mar-

riage. ’

Dunn’s Fencing Instrue-
or.

Prof. Muldoon’s Wrest-

ling.

The Complete Checker
Player.

Sanka senen and Baga-
elle.

Boys’ Own Book of Boats.

Captain Webb’s Swim-
ming Instructor,

Amateur andProfessional
Oarsman’s Manual.

The International Cric-
ket Guide,

Complete Training Guide
‘or Amateur and Pro-
fessional Athletes.

Riding and Driving. ~

Our old friend Boggs has a very mis-
chievous son named Tommie, and_ his
mother has hard work to manage Him.
Their home is in the country, and the
house is raised a few feet from the
ground. One day Tommie, to escape a
well-deserved whipping, ran from. his
mother and crept under the house. Pres-
ently Boggs came home, and, hearing
where the boy had taken refuge, crept
under to bring him out. As he approached
on his hands and knees, Tommie asked:

“Ts she after you, too?”

The remark caused the old man so much
amusement that Tommie was allowed to
go unpunished that time,

 

 

yin & Stamp Guide; only 6c. Novelty Agency,
Portland, Me Mention Good News.

j FOR ALL, $75 a month salary ar -
penses paid. If you want employment write
at once toP. O. VICKERY, Augusta, Maine.

Mention Good News.

Amateur’s Manual of Photography,
S. & 8. MANUAL LIBRARY, No. 6.
PRICE, 10 CENTS.

A hand-book of practical instructions in the art of
dry -plate photography. Iti gnide to this
fascinating art. Fully illustrdted. Tells from how a

is made to the fins. f t-class picture.
by is a clean, light. and pleasant occupation,
or any young lady or gentleman, and within
the reach of all. ‘

For sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent, postpaid
upon receipt of price, ten cents, by the publishers.
STREKT & SMITH, 31 Rose Street, New York.

; LOVE, COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE.
All who contem-
plate marriage
should not be with-
Hout the Lover's

to Win a Woman’s

Love; What ‘Traits

of Character a Man

loves to find in Wo-

» men; How to Make

How a Plain Woman may Win

True Love; Advice to those about to

The Marriage—its Present Delights, Fu-

¢ ture Hopes and Joys; ‘The Bride’s l'irst Feeling

sot Despondency, etc. This valuable book will be
sent on receipt of 10 cents. »MANUAT,

(LIBRARY, 31 §

a& Man’
Marry;

Add

ADR ARORA

Good News Binder
Price 50 Cents.

Auswers the purpose of a bound volume,
fifty-two copies comfortably. -

Holding

be ; :

Tt has a durable black embossed cover with
flexible back, and a gold stamp title on the outside
cover, Itopens flat as any book, and each week’s
paper can be inserted as soon as received. Full
directions for inserting the paper accompany each
binder. ‘

We will send the Goop Nrws binder, and a pack-
age of binder pins, postpaid, to any address on re-
ceipt of 50 cents.

BOUND VOLUMES OF GOOD

‘ NEWS.

We have issued volumes two, three,
four, and five, bound in an attractive
heavy paper cover. ‘lwenty - six
numbers constitute a volume. The
papers are cut and trimmed and

bound with as much care as an expensive cloth
binding, and the price is .

EIGHTY-FIVE CENTS EACH,

These volumes contain serial stories by
Edward §, Ellis, Horatio Alger,
Jas, Otis, . Edward Stratemeyer,
Harry Castlemon, Wm. Murray Graydon,
Walter Morris, Oliver Optic,
W. B. Lawson, Lieut. Lounsberry, —

And others equally well known,

Address Subscription Department Goop NEws,
29 Rose street, New York.

 

By request of a large
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;
artistic. in design and
something every reader
will be proud to wear,
If we were to give away
these badges they wnight
fall into unappreciative
hands. We have, there-
fore, decided to make a
small charge of six cents

4 for the badge, or one
dozen for sixty cents, if sent to one address,

Readers desiring these badges should.send in
their orders at once, as we have manufactured a
small number only, and the supply will soon be
exhausted. Electrotypes for printing the fac-
simile of badge on letter heads, cards, ete, will be
sent post-paid on receipt of twenty-five cents.

No coupons, no contest, and no red-tape required
to secure one of these badges. The only require-
ment is that each applicant sends us six cents with
their order for a badge. Address GooD NrEws Cor-
responding Club, 29 Rose street, New York.

Be sure ana nse ‘Mrs. Winslow's

Soothing Syrup” for your children

while Teething. 20 cents a bottle
: