NEXT WHEE -GRHAT FOURTH OF JULY NUMBEBR.

we = x& ie om
NS

*,

a

CO UVHE_!_

iE e “O
ECCS

RS ee
— NOM: EVERY: QUART
— i x Mi 2 Le ef a Y

Entered According to Act of Congress. in the Tear 1894, by Street & Snvith. in the Onice of the Liorarian of Congress. Washington, D. C.
“ntered as Second-ciass Matter at ihe New Yoriz. N.Y.. Post- Office.

Se S
es

ltt lal he ea eh ee a ae ee ee allah led ad haat aah te noha oho eal

Vol. 9. 31 Rose Street, New York. New York, July 7, 1894 oNg2.50 per Year.” No. 218.

. Scrambling hastily to the top of the cot-| The glare of an electric light made his

A | V €) | N Cx oe H BE Cx ny" eS | Bas ton bales, Mat climbed to the roof, over | position as plain as day.
3 which he ran, seeking for a place of con-| Mat cringed, expecting to hear the crack
OR. THE cealment. . of a revolver, and to feel the bullet tear his

‘s There was none; but an iron fire-escape | flesh.
clung to a big building. But the shot did not come.
STRA NGE Lt FE OF MAT DUCRO Impelled by a feeling of desperation, On the contrary, the cries of the man
* after a short run over the roof, the hunted | were echoed by others, and a crowd began
SecGen eee a | boy hurled himself at this fire-escape, and | to collect, toward which a number of police-
BY JOHN H. WHITSON. | succeeded in grasping it. men were racing.
SPEC NE Here he hung for a moment, to regain his} |The clammy sweat oozed out on the boy’s
(“AMONG THE GYPSIES” was commenced last week.] strength, and then climbed rapidly toward | forehead, but he gathered his energies and
Sc) the top of the high building. | climbed on with a speed and desperation
CHAPTER IV , He was in the French quarter of the city, “There he is!’ was yelled from the that carried him upward with surprising
: | and as soon as he could, he headed at his | street, and Mat saw that he had been dis- | rapidity.

| best gait in the direction of the French | covered. | ‘Then, having gained the roof,he threw

 

MAT FINDS A FRIEND.

| Market and the levee. re WIN TT
6 AT DUCRO was quick of foot ; and He saw, though, that the hour was too ||| ELH LN A ia vA] Vi Hi

 

/;\\ before the big gate flew open, let- | early for him to hope to escape by mere
ting the officers into the street, he | running. The news of his escape would be
succeeded in gaining a dark alley, | flashed all over the city, and policemen

which opehed invitingly not more than half | would be on the lookout for him at every
a block away. ; corner. ;
Into this alley Mat leaped, hurrying on-} So when he had run another block, and
war! as fast as his legs would carry him. | felt for a moment secure. he began to cast
He knew the police would search that! about asto what he should do. x
alley almost immediately, and he chose it} There was a warehouse near, with a Eod-
only because he feared the lights of the | jecting shed roof, and a big heap of cotton

bales.

streets.

 

MAT FELT A
— yano GRAB a?

 

IMPELLED BY A FEELING OF DESPERATION, AFTER A SHORT RUN OVER THE ROOF, THE HUNTED BOY HURLED HIMSELF AY THE FIRE-E8CA PE,

 
S474

 

GoOoDpD

 

 

 

his arm round a small brick flue, and swung
himself over, where he lay for an instant
panting and exhausted.

“I’m not safe, yet!” he thought.
be up here in a little while !”

He felt so weak he could hardly rise.
Nevertheless, he struggled to his feet and
peered over the edge of the roof.

A crowd had gathered on the street be-
neath the fire-escape, and again those cries
arose, as Mat’s head became for a moment
visible.

He took courage, though, whem he saw
~ that no one was yet climbing toward the
top of the building) 9)" ,

  
   
  
   
   
    
   
  
  
 
   
   
   
 
  
   
    
  
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
 
  
   
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
   
    
   
  
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
   
  

“They'll

 

a dared tarry
there longery he hurrig * ing from |
wl Z th Tg ao b
plose against each
Were ly of a uni- |

e, he found

the roof on which he stood to the
xt was asheer descent of ten or fifteen
feet.
puzzled to know how he was to get up the
opposite wall, whose roof was as high as the
one he was on, even if he succeeded in mak-
ing the descent.
The place seemingly presented an im-
passable chasm, and Mat was in despair.
Then he caught sight of a twisted light-
ning rod, and, after hurrying to it and in-
specting it closely, he began to work down
the face of the wall by clinging to this rod
with his hands and digging the toes of his
shoes against the bricks.
When he had accomplished the descent,
he found a gallery which led over the street,
and, by climbing one of the poles of this
gallery, he obtained a foothold on another
roof.
He was beginning to feel secure, and
when he had crossed a number of roofs and
had turned and twisted in a manner to defy
the keenest pursuer, he began to look about
for a place of hiding.
There was nothing of the sort in view,
and he again hurried on, driven by his
fears.
While creeping cautiously along near a
place that looked like the closed hatch of a
vessel, he felt a hand grasp one of his feet.
Mat turned about with a smothered ex-
clamiation. >
‘The door in the roof—for it was a door—
had been slipped open, and a dark, boyish
face looked at him. ©
There was a smile on the face, anda
twinkle in the black eyes.
Mat jerked his foot away.
‘I saw you coming,” the boy avowed.
“The electric showed you! Running away
from the police, eh? Same boat as I’m in.
Crawl down here. It’s a reg’lar cuddy.”
Mat hesitated, not knowing if it would be
safe to comply with this request.
' “I’m tipping it to you straight,” the boy
- urged, seeing Mat’s indecision. ‘‘I’ve been
in here all evening, and it’s getting lone-
some. It’s a jolly place to hide in. You'll
not find a better ‘round here !”"
Mat hesitated no longer. There was such
an air of perfect candor in the boy’s man-
ner that he could not disbelieve.him.

“All right, then. Tll climb in. Make
room for me there!”
The black eyes smiled again. Then the

door was shoved farther over, and Mat
dropped in at the boy’s side.

CHAPTER V.
IN HIDING.

HE trap-door was pulled into pines
iy jp andthe gloom that immediately tell
Gap about Mat Ducro was stygian.:

here !” came in the voice of the boy. ‘But
you'll get used to it d’rectly! It’s tolerably
light, though, at the other end of the attic.
We'll go over there and peek out.”

He clasped Mat’s hsnd and drew him
toward a dingy little window, some distance
away. :

‘‘Who are you, and what are you hiding
for?” Mat ventured to ask.

“The cops got after me,” the boy con-
fessed. ‘‘A fellow struck me on the street,
and I knocked him down; and then the
cops chased me. I was just thinking of
crawling out, when I heard you coming ;
and, when I saw you under the electric, I
says to myself, ‘there's another chap run-
ning from the police!’ Then you passed
me, and I slipped open the door and pulled
your foot.
‘‘Been fighting; too, eh? Well, you bet!
when a fellow gives me any sass and
_.. punches at me, I always punch ‘back.
_ You’ve got to hold your own, or be eterally

_ stenped on!” yikes

A
A

He feared to leap down ; and he was |

“Dark as a stack of black cats in|

There was an air of self-assertion and in-
dependence in the tones, though not of
bravado.

They had reached the little window,
which was dirty and cobwebbed, and, by
the feeble light that struggled through it,
Mat surveyed his companion.

He saw before him a boy of about his
own age, but somewhat better dressed, and
who looked well-fed and as if he had lived
an indolent and easy iife.

The boy’s face was dark, and his hair
quite black.

The boy noticed the scrutinizing glance.

“My name is Phil Darrow, and I guess
|you’d call me a gypsy,” he confessed.
“Anyway, [m half gypsy; and a fellow
might as well be hung for a sheep as for a
goat. My folks are camped out here near
the edge of the marsh. How long will you
have to lie close, do you think? We might
slip out there!”

This was so direct an invitation to con-
fession, that Mat at once told him why he
had been running from the police, and

| something of his personal history.

‘‘Well, that’s interesting. There’s some
mystery back of that! What kind of a
fellow is this Lee Bolton ?

Mat gave a minute description of the
captain of the Southern Cross.

Phil Darrow shook his head.

‘Don’t know him. He’s no good, though,
to treat you that way! And after you
risked your life for him in the circus !”

He scraped away some of the dirt from a
pane and peered through.

“Take a peep! Not an interesting view,
but you can see a little, and that’s better
than not seeing at all.”

Mat saw a couple of chimneys and a sec-
tion of a big wall.

“Ts there any other way of getting out of
here?”

“There’s a door,’ answered ‘he gypsy
boy. ‘It’s locked, though, and I don't
know where it leads to. Come this way and
[ll show it to yon.”

~The door seemed not to have been opened
in a long time.

“Oh, [ guess we're safe enough here,”’
Darrow declared. ‘I don’t think any one
ever comes up here,”

The correctness of this was shown by the
dust which lay thick on the floor, and by
the cobwebs that festooned the walls.

Now that his exaitement had spent itself,
and he felt safe, Mat Ducro began to realize
how tired he was.

‘He dropped down with his back against
the door, feeling that he did not want to
stir again for a month; and Phil, squatting
in the dust at his side, began to talk of the
gypsy camp on the edge of the marsh, and
of his wanderings.

“T should think it would be mfére fun to
be a sailor, though. I know I'd prefer a
ship to a wagon.”’

“Not much fun on shipboard,” Mat as-
serted, ‘‘It’s all very well in stories, where
everything goes just as it ought to go, but,
when you tackle the real thing, it’s a dog's
life. You don’t get any more to eat than
you ought to have, and ‘you've got to work
like a slave, and you’re swore at by every
one from the captain down. ,

“I'd never set foot on a ship again, if
there was anything else I could do, But
that’s about all I know. I was born in
Louisiana, and lived here in New Orleans
when I was too small to remember anything,
but it seems to me I’ve been on the sea all
my life.”

Mat was becoming drowsy, and, when he
had yawned a few times, and found he
could not hold his attention to the rattling
talk of the gypsy boy, he pulled together
some rags which he found in the corner,
and lay down on them.

In five minutes he was fast asleep.

After wandering restlessly about for a
half hour, Phil Darrow stretched himself
beside his new acquaintance. |

They were awakened by the newsboys
calling the first edition of the morning
dailies :

‘“Here’s your Picayune!
Times-Democrat

The cries arose plainly through the rattle
and bang of the heavy wagons. '

It was still quite dark outside, and Phil
announced his intention of slipping down
for one of the papers. |!

When he came back, which he didin a
few minutes, he brought a paper, together
with a loaf of bread and a bottle of
water. 5

‘Seeing that your case is so serious, I
thought I'd better get these things,” show-
ing the loaf and the water bottle. \ ‘“There’s
something about you in the paper, and I

’

Here’s your

Then we'll make tracks for the marsh.”

 

from Phil’s hand,

{ ¢

reckon we'd better hold up here till night. |.
“What is it?” and Mat plucked the paper }

 

NEWS.

.

 

*T don’t know.
boys calling it.”

Mat turned the pages with trembling
fingers.

Then he came to a column which was
headed by his name in big black letters.

MATIO DUCRO’S MASQUERADE,

I just heard the news-

A CLEVER CAPTURE

The

AND A DARING ESCAPE,

Holding Up Citizens of New Orleans,
Caught in a New Role.

These were the sensational and ominous
head-lines that caught Mat’s eye. He
trembled as he read them.

“Painting you pretty black, eh?’ Phil

| questioned, looking over Mat’s shoulder and

striving to pick out the words by the dim
light that fell through the dirty panes of the
window.

Mat found it impossible ‘to read the
column-long account that followed, though
he strained his eyes till they ached.

me a highwayman who has been holding up
people !”

He ‘put the paper down till the light
should become better, and turned to Phil.

“Oh, those newspaper fellows always
make things out as big as they can. They
have to do that, to sell the papers !”

Mat found the explanation, however,
when he was able to read the account.

Captain Lee Bolton had poured a terrible
tale into the ears of the eager reporters :
and a policeman, professing to recognize a
notorious highwayman in the description
given of Mat, the reporters had sharpened
their pencils and produced a most marvel-
ous story. ,

Mat read the terrible accusations with a
sense of horror and fear.

He saw how’ cunningly he was infolded

Young Highwayman Who Has Been |

 

| this morning.
|though. If

|

_ .| Honduras.
“T don’t know what they mean by calling |

“Tt looks like it !”

‘Well, I didn’t !
do such a thing ?”

“Tf he'll only leave the country and never
come back, it’s the best thing that could
have happened !” Bolton growled, dropping
heavily into a chair, ‘I thought him dead,
long ago, and here he has turned up to
trouble me. I should never have known
him, but for his name!”

All fear of the men below had vanished
from Mat’s mind. He was listening breath-
lessly. A hope grew that something would
be said to clear up the mystery surround-
ing him, and reveal the secrets, of the past.

It was plain that Lee Bolton knew more
of that past than he himself did. It was
equally plain that the lawyer was a rascally
assistant of the schooner captain, who had
been sent tothe cell to drive Mat intoa
confession.

‘‘Where has he been all these years?” the
attorney inquired,

“Ask me something easy, Dutton! He
told me he had come ina logwood ship from
It’s strange that he should turn
up now to frighten me, when I thought
everything was secure.”

‘There can’t be any mistake in the boy ?”

Why should I want to

‘There an’t many Matio Ducros. ‘Then,
he’s the very image of old Ignatio. I didn’t

notice it at first, but he’s got thé same eyes
and hair, and the same freckled, tanned
face. Oh, I’m not mistaken in the boy,
Dutton.”

“The police are watching for him every-
where ?”

‘All over the city,” said Bolton. ‘I offered —

five hundred dollars reward for his capture

I hope noone will get it,
I can seare him out of the
country—give him such a scare that he’ll
never come back—it will be even better than
putting him in prison.”

“Yes, I don’t know but it will.”

‘How much do I owe you, Dutton?”

in the net of false evidence, and how peril- | came the next inquiry ; and the boys heard

ous was his situation.

Again and again he asked himself, as he |
read the words of the reporters, what he | boy remain away ?” Dutton calmly asked.

had done to bring these charges against
him?
Bolton ?

He could only tread round and round in a
cirele of conjecture and uncertainty.

. All he knew was that he was a fugitive,
falsely accused, and feeling forced to fly
fi&n the officers of the law.

He had little enough appetite for the
bread that Phil Darrow urged on him.

‘We'll get out of here as soon as it is
dark,” said Phil, in a hopeful tone. ‘You'll
be safe at the gypsy camp. They'll never
think of looking for you there!”

The stanch friendship of the young gyps
was a grateful thing to the heart of the
hunted boy. '

Until nearly sunset they felt they were
quite safe there in the attic. Then steps
were heard on the stairway below, and two
men entered the room just below the attic.

Mat Ducro started up with a low cry,
when he caught their voices..

One of the men was the lawyer who had
visited him in the cell, and the other was
Lee Bolton.

 

CHAPTER VL.
A BIT OF PUZZLING TALK.

T-HIL DARROW’S hand fell on Mat’s
~ shoulder.
“Steady there!” he whispered.

‘Don’t let them hear you. Do you
know ‘em ?”

Mat tremblingly sank to the floor.

‘It’s Bolton and the lawyer !”

The gypsy boy blew out his breath in a
noiseless whistle.

“Orickey ! ’tis, eh ?”

‘Do you s’pose they’re after me?” Mat
queried.

“Not a bit of it! Keep still and we'll
find what they’re up to!”

This was such sage advice that Mat Ducro
sprawled himself softly on the floor in a lis-
tening attitude.

The voices of the men below reached
them with considerable distinctness.

“So this is one of your offices, is it?”
Lee Bolton was saying. ‘Not a very fancy
one, for a cove like you !”

“It will answer. I’m not here very often,
you know.”

“Only when you want to have a privat
talk with a man of my character.”

The captain’s words held a sneer.
“We'll not quatrel, Captain Bolton. We

came up here to talk about that boy !”_
Phil Darrow gave Mat a triumphant pinch.

‘‘He’s gone, and it’s all your fault !” Bol-
ton angrily asserted. —

‘Do you think I left the cell door open ?”
in a purring, conciliatory tone.

,

!

 

In what way had he so offended Lee | g hundred.

| Lee Bolton continued.
| the guard helped him ?”

the jingle of coin on a table.
“How much is it worth to you to have the

“That’s got nothing to do with it. Here’s
That’s more than I agreed on.”

Dutton was heard to grumble at the small
payment, and again came the sound of
jingling coins.

The listeners were wrought to a fevexof
excitement.

“It gets me how he got out of the jail!”
*Do you suppose

Both were reasonably certain that Matio
Ducro had no money with which to bribe
the guard, and the question could not be
satisfactorily answered.

Mat and Phil crushed their ears against
the dusty floor, that no part of the conver-
sation might escape them ; and Bolton and
the lawyer continued to talk, and to specu-
late on the manner of Mat’s escape from the
jail, and on his probable course of action,
now that he was free.

They were agreed that Mat would hasten
to put as great a distance as possible be-
tween himself and the minions of the law,
and in the shortest space of time.

And this was exceedingly gratifying to
Lee Bolton, as was plainly apparent.

Then there was some mysterious talk of
lands and houses, stocks and bonds, plan-
tations and servants, which the boys under-
stood no more than if it had been Greek.

Captain Lee Bolton was a very wealthy
man, to judge by what was said, and by the
tone in which he sometimes addressed the
lawyer.

Mat Ducro had changed his position
slightly, and was crouching on his knees in
a listening attitude, and trying to determine
within himself whether or not it would be
wise to remain in the town and boldly face
Bolton’s accusations.

He had about decided that such a course
could not profit him, when a loud peal of
shrill, cackling laughter caused him to start
violently and half fall to the floor,

There could be no doubt he had made
some noise in this invokuntary’ movement
and a new feeling of fear smote him,

_ “What was that?” Mat gasped, clutching
the gypsy boy by the arm.

“Sh! I’m afraid they heard you, Don’t
more nor speak. It was that blasted par-
rot !”

The boys had heard the parrot at inter-
vals during the day, but the sound had
never been so near. ‘

As they listened breathlessly, they were
made aware that the laughter of the parrot
and the noise of Mat’s movement had been
caught by the two men. —

“It’s only Mrs. Maginnis’ parrot !” Dutton
was heard to say. ‘I find him up here
nearly every time I come. He’s always
roving around.”

“But that other ?” Bolton questioned.

’

\

oo

ree ee

oo eT

i
]
]
‘

 
aoe eee ee ee ee.

: ian detectives the best.

GooD

NEW S.

3475

 

‘‘Are you sure you heard anything else?”

‘Dead sure; and it was just overhead.”

The boys stared questioningly at each
other in the feeble light. They feared they
were about to be discovered.

“Then it was only a rat,” came Dutton’s
reassuring reply. %

“T thought we were going to have to
slide,” Phil Darrow whispered, breathing
easier. ‘I should hate to make a break be-
fore it gets dark!”

Vhe door of the office below was heard to
open, and Bolton’s words told that he bad
come out into the corridor.

Then he was heard mounting the rickety
stairway.

“You are fooling away your time,” Dutton
called after him. ‘That attic door is locked,
and there’s nothing in it.”

Nevertheless, Lee Bolton came straight
on, determined to investigate the matter
and satisfy himself.

The captain of the Southern Cross was
nofool, To his mind, what he had heard
had not sounded like the leap of a rat; and
he remembered that Mat Ducro, when last
seen, was climbing toward the top of a tall
building not far distant from that place.

What was more natural than that the boy
should have taken refuge in the attic, in-
ferring, of course, that he could gain en-
trance to it?

As has’ been shown, Lee Bolton was
intensely afraid of Mat. He would freely
have killed the boy, if he could have got
him in his power and been assured that the
crime would never be revealed,

He felt that it was not safe, therefore, to
take any chances.

Mat and Phil feared to rise to their feet ;
but they turned their eyes toward the trap-
door, intending to make a dash for it, should
Bolton succeed in entering the attic.

The intervening distance was consider-
able, however, and the trap-door was set
tightly in its place.

On gaining the upper landing, Lee Bolton
saw thé parrot perched on the stairway
railing, eying him inquisitively.

The sight of the bird angered him, and
he knocked it from its position,

Then his heavy hand fell on the knob of
the door. 4

The boys quaked when they heard and
Seon the knob turn slowly under the pressure
of b-5 fingers.

“Lie low!” Phil Darrow whispered. ‘The
door is locked, and he’ll go away in a sec-
ond.”

But the gypsy boy was mistaken in this
estimate of the captain’s character,

Without a word of warning, the captain
thrust his broad shoulders against the pan-
els, gave a mighty surge, and the door flew
inward, It struck heavily against the boys,
and Lee Bolton, losing his balance, sprawled
on the floor. Mi /

The cloud of dust that arose choked and
blinded him ; but, even in the semi-gloom,
he saw the boyish forms before him, and
grasped Mat with astrong and detaining
hand.

“Help! Help!" he roared.
him, Dutton! I’ve got the rat !”

, _ (TO BE CONTINUED. )
THE BEST DETECTIVES.

A Frenchman naturally thinks the Paris-
Englishmen swear
by the shrewdness of Scotland Yard men,
and Americans, of course, swear by the
New York detectives. After three years’
residence in China I do not think either of
the three bodies are entitled to the credit
given them. The Chinese beat them all.

They are at one time the most expert
thieves and at another the most skilled de-
tectives in the world.
steal your watch while you are looking at it,
and he can catch the man who stole it, if it
happened to be some other than himself,
when a French detective could not.

I have seen evidences of detective ability
among the Chinese which would startle
even Dr. Conan Doyle. It is impossible
for an evil-doer to long elude the Chinese
detectives. They scent a crime and follow
it to the last before civilizéd detectives
would know of it.

-The Chinese detective force is a secret
body, and the best organized in the world.
They have an eye upon every man, woman
and child, foreign or native, in China, and
in addition watch over each other.

Informers are encouraged, and collusion
is impossible. The head of the Chinese

“ve got

police is not known, but there is one, and a
very active one, too. I have heard that the

resent head was once an ambassador to a

uropean country, but really do not believe
that any one knows who he is,
said to be over 60,000 men under him and
his agsistants, who control the various dis-
trict

A Chinaman can

There. are

{This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.)

Joe the Surveyor;

OR,

 

THE VALUE OF’ A LOST CLAIM.

igeieecie

BY EDWARD STRATEMEYER,
Author of “Shorthand Tom,’ ‘Camera Bob,’
Cele;

[‘“JOK THE SURVEYOR” was commenced in No
209. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents, )

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JOE .TO

 

THE RESCUE,

Q~
Ay, T was no insignificant thing to rush to the
I heads of a runaway team and endeavor
to stop them, and it was only Joe’s
natural bravery that caused him to un-
dertake the perilous task.

By good luck he managed to catch one of
the horses around the neck. The next in-
stant he was nearly dragged under the beast,
and had he lost his grip he would undoubt-
edly have been killed,

But the brave boy held fast, and as soon
as he could regain his breath he gave a
swing and reached the horse’s back.

“Save me! Save me!” shrieked Gus Bink,
in abject terror. “Save me and I'll give
you a—a—thousand dollars !”

By the tone of his voice Joe felt certain
that the young man had. been drinking and
was slightly under the influence of liquor.
» If the truth must be told, Gus Bink had
hardly been sober since he had been dis-
charged from Ralph Lumley’s employ. In
his own peculiar manner he realized his
disgrace, but he had not the moral courage
to brace up and take a fresh start.

“Sit still and I'll stop the horses,” was
Joe’s reply to the young man’s frantic appeal
to be saved. j

“We'll go over into the gully!” howled
Gus Bink, as he endeavored to stand up-
right in the vehicle, which was now swing-
ing from side-to side violently.

“Sit down !’ yelled Joe. ‘Do you want
to be pitched out on your head and killed ?”

The idea of losing his life as Joe sug-
gested was too much for Gus Bink, and
with another howl of despair he sank’ back
on the seat and clung fast with all his might.

While Joe had been speaking he had not
been idle. He saw that the reins had
dropped directly between the two horses,
and how to get them in hand was a problem.

But Joe did not stop long to consider the
matter. Something must be done quickly
or it would be too late. Less than a hun-
dred yards ahead the road made a sharp
turn, and it was more than likely, shoull
the buggy reach that point, it would over-
turn, and both Bink and himself, and per-
haps the team, be thrown heels over head
into the gully.

Watching his opportunity, Joe lowered
himself between the two animals, which
were still spurting along at top speed, and
with one quick swoop gathered up the lines.

A moment later he was in the buggy.
The lines, which had been «considerably
tangled, were straightened out, and then
began a management of the,team which was
as novel as it was effective.

Joe began to speak to the horses in a low
but sharp tone, meanwhile holding them
well in hand. Then, when he felt certain
that they were paying some sort of atten-
tion to him, down came the whip on the
back of each. :

“Whoa!” he cried and drew them up
tight. —

Of course they started off, but in that
moment of alarm Joe pulled the bits into
place, and soon they were once more under
control. The dangerous spot of the road
was passed, and a hundred feet farther on
the horses were brought to a halt.

‘Now they are all right,” said Joe, as he
turned around i Gus Bink.

“Are you sure they won’t run away again?”
asked the young man, nervously.

“No, ’m not! But they are all right for
the present.”

‘Good for you, P—-— By Jove!”

‘“‘What’s the matter now ?”

“Tf it an’t the boy that’s got my job! I

didn’t recognize you before! This beats
all!”

“I’m glad I came up in time,” said Joe,
coolly.

“Soam I. But—but—I didn’t think you
would do me such a good turn,”

“Oh, that’s all right,” returned Joe, mod-
estl “T didn’t want to see you killed.”

sé »

 

“Did you know it was me in the buggy ?”
Yes.
Gus Bink shook his head slowly. Such

 

treatment was more than he could under-
stand.

“Say!” he said presently.

“Well 2”

“You're a great fellow.”

“What do you mean ?”

“A great fellow—a fine fellow, by Jove!”

“Thank you.”

“T mean it—I really do. I promised my-
self to get square with you for taking my
job from me, but now—hang me, if I an’t
sorry I said what I did to you at the tavern.”

‘“‘That’s all right, Bink.”

“You can bet I won't try to get square
now, for the only way to do it would be to
save your life at the risk of my own and—
well, I an’t any great hero.”

‘*‘Where do you wan't to go?” questioned
Joe, wishing to change the subject.

‘What do you mean ?”

“Where are you going to with the team ?”

“J was going to Ironton, but I reckon I'll
go back to Mountainville now.”

“Then I suppose I can ride with you.”

“Certain, if youan't afraid of the horses,’
and Bink gave something of a sickly laugh.

“Oh, [ guess I can keep them in hand
now. What scared them?”

“Something in the bushes.
was a man with a white bundle.”

“A tramp?”

“Most likely.”

The heads of the horses were turned
back, and a moment later they were bowling
toward Moutainville at a rapid rate.

‘JT reckon I had better turn over a new
leaf,” said Gus Bink on the way. “I was
out with some men last night, and they got
me to gamble every cent I had away. Then
I hired this team, and if it hadn’t been for
you I would most likely have been killed.”

“Yes, turn over a new leaf by all means,”
said Joe. ‘And if I were you the first
thing I would do would be to quit drink-
ing.”

2 reckon you're right.”

Afew moments of silence followed, and
then Gus Bink nearly jumped from his
seat.

“By Jove!”

‘“*What’s up now?”

“I believe I cam do you a good turn.”

“Thank you.”

‘Do you remember that night Amos
Bemis’ store was burned ?”

‘‘Indeed I do,” replied Joe, bitterly.

‘‘He*says you fired the place.”

‘He has withdrawn that charge,” said

’

I believe it

Joe.
‘Well, he had better, for I think I know
something of how that place got on fire.”

“You?” eried the boy, in astonishment.
‘Were you there?”

‘‘T passed the store just a short while be-
fore the fire was discovered.”

“And what did you see?”

“T saw two men coming from the rear of
the place.”

‘Who were they ?”

“J don’t know. One of the men hada
bundle under his arm.”

“Why didn’t you speak of this before ?”

“T was afraid of getting into trouble my-
self, and besides ” Gus Bink broke off
short.

“What ?”

“Well, if I’ve got to tell the truth, I didn’t
want to put myself out to clear you. It
was awful mean, but I was terribly down
on you—then.”

“T see,” .

“I thought I would just keep quiet and
let you take the blame, and that would be
my revenge. I was a scoundrel.”

‘You haven’t the least idea who the men
were?” asked Joe, with keen interest.

“They were strangers in town; I’m pretty
certain of that. Just as they passed the
tree behind which I was standing, I heard
one of them ask the other if he knew where
the horses were kept, and the other said he
had been told where the stable was, or
something like that.” 5

These simple words for the moment
seemed to stagger Joe. He almost held his
breath. The mystery was explained.

“They did it!” he cried. ‘TI'll bet a hun-
dred dollars they did!”

“Who? Did what?” questioned Gus
Bink. es

“They set the place on fire, and——” Joe
broke off short. ‘‘But what did they take?”
he mused.

“What are you talking about?’ queried
Gus Bink, who could make neither head nor
tail of what the boy was saying.

“IT can't tell you just yet,” replied Joe.
“But Tl do so later on. Here we are. You
don’t know which way the men went?”

“Yes, that way.”

And the young man pointed in the direc-
tion of old Poders place.

“Good! Now I'll tell you what Pl do,
Bink ; I'll put in a good word for you with
Ralph Lumley.”

 

4

| matter,” said Mr. Hurley.

 

“Yes, but you’ve got the job.”

“That’s true, but he said yesterday that
perhaps next week he would need even
more help. Ill try to get him to give you
another trial.”

“Will you?
fellow !”

And Gus Bink’s face glowed with genuine
earnestness.

The two soon after separated, and Joe
hurried home.

His story was listened to with much in-
terest.

‘Bart Pangler is just the villain I thought

Say, you’re a staving good

| him,” cried Mr. Hurley, who was feeling

much-better and was sittingup. ‘So Phi-
lander Pardone says the track of land is
mine? Well, J wish I could get hold of
Olney and:*?m, and tlie papers.”

“I woulayi}* ot know what Olney and
Ridd stole froy. © ®& T C's.” said Joe,

- “Yes, that is cert? Jus’ “*ystery,” put in.
Meg. “Especially atur nJ#t 4's “lueer
to you at the jail.” ity)... iba Uae

“Perhaps he knows something te us|
“Come to think
of it, heand Bart Pangler ounce bad some
dealings together up here.” SMa Teh

“They did?” cried Joe.

“Yes. It was about a track of land on
the Knob.”

‘Tm going to see Amos Bemis at once,”
declared Joe, struck with a sudden idea.

‘Not before you’ve had breakfast,” said
Meg.

“All right. Meg, but hurry it up. Where
is Mr. Lumley ?”

“He went off on another hunt for that
Olney.”

After swallowing a hasty breakfast, Joe
set off for Amos Bemis’ store.

 

CHAPTER XXIX.

SOMETHING OF A REVELATION.

" Sa:7 HEN Joe arrived at the store

J~\f> owned and kept hy Amos Bemis,
he found the real estate dealer
busily engaged in giving direc-
tions to Tom Allon, the carpenter, in re-
gards to refitting the burnt portion of the
place.

‘“‘And see that you give me a good job for
the money, Allon,” Bemis was saying.

“T'll give ye a first class job, but it must
be at my figger,” replied the carpenter. ~~

“But sixty dollars is altogether too much
for that shelving,” protested the stationer
and real estate dealer.

“Can't do it for less, Amos.
cost me over thirty dollars.”

‘Make it fifty-five dollars.” —

“Can’t do it, Amos. I’m a poor man,
and e a

“You're worth more than I am, and I
won't pay a cent more than fifty-seven dol-
lars.”

‘Well, all right, then; but the job’s worth
more.”

Tom Allon turned to go to work, and
Amos Bemis faced Joe.

He had not noticed who the new-comer
was at first, and now his face changed color
slightly.

“‘Well, Joe, what’s wanted?”

“J want to see youin private, Mr. Bemis.”

“Who sent you?” ee

‘“‘Nobody ; I came on my own hook.

“Well, there an’t no place here, and I
can’t leave just now,”

“I must see you,” returned the boy,
firmly.

“I’m going for some tools,’’ put in Tom
Allon, suggestively. ‘‘l’ll be back in quar-
ter of an hour.”

He walked out of the store, leaving the
two alone. For the moment Joe did not |
know how to begin. He felt that he must
approach the stationer cautiously if he
wished to gain the object of his visit.

“Well, now we're alone, what’s wanted ?”
demanded Amos Bemis.

.“I came to see about that safe robbery,”
began Joe.

“I thought you said you would allow that
matter to rest,” was Amos Bemis’ somewhat
uneasy reply.
ioe want to ask you a few questions, that’s

‘‘“Maybe I won’t answer ’em, Joe.”

“Why not ?” ‘

“Tam not getting myself into trouble for
your benefit.”

“Yes, but you want to keep out of
trouble, don’t you?” ventured the boy, talk-
ing very largely in the dark.

“Of course, and that’s what I am doing.”

“But I want to know how you came by

  

o

The stuff

 

”

‘that which was stolen.”

“T found it.”

«Where ?”
“Never mind that.”

‘Why won't you tell me?”

 
and worried, an

  

34276

GooD

 

NEWS.

 

“Didn’t I say I wasn’t going to get into

trouble ?”
‘How long ago did you find it ?”
“T won't say a word.”
“7 think you will.”

“Ha! do you threaten me?” gasped Amos

Bemis, and his dried-up face actually grew
pale.

“J want to know the whole truth,” de-
clared Joe, putting on a bold front; ‘‘and
if you'll tell me that I won’t prosecute you.”

“And if I don’t ?”

“You had» better speak up, Mr. Bemis. I
am going to sift this matter to the bottom.

Do you know that Sam Ridd, the agent for

Bart Pangler, was arrested last night?”

It was a random. shot, }ut if told. Amos
Bemis staggered 1*ck an Toast it in his
bones that he hac?S* ug} vig .o track.

“What—what | hed x do with all

_ this?” he demapé gan $n rather a feeble
Voice, 4 ont ;

ri P “heed to tell you ?”

— SRO yr had anything to do with that
man Ridd. Idon’t even know him. You
are talking to me in riddles.”’

Amos Bemis began to bluster, but in the
midst of his talk Joe stopped him.

“Tell me at once where you found that
thing,” he said, sternly. ‘‘No more trifling.”

“I won't.”

“Then tell me where you stole it.”

“Me? Stole it!’ howled Amos Bemis.
“Are you going mad, boy ?”

‘Not a bit of it.”

“T never stole anything in my life.” «

“That is what I told you, Amos Bemis,
but you would not believe it.”

“But you took the tin box- —-”

The stationer broke off short.

“Go on,” said Joe, not surprised at the
declaration. ‘Go on and tell me where you
got the tin box painted blue.”

“T found it in the gully!” burst out Amos
Bemis.

“Down by the Coal Road ?”

Yes.”

‘When ?”

“About four months ago.”

“How did you happen to be down there ?”

“T was looking over some ground that
was to be sold for a party in Philadelphia.”

“Why didn’t you turn over the deed in
the box to father at the time?”

“See here, didn’t you say you would drop
the matter if I let up on you?’ demanded
Amos Berais, who was beginning to squirm
under this fire of questions.

‘Were you going to try to get the land in
your own hands?” went on Joe.

“No, I wasn’t.” -

“It looks very much like it, unless

”

 

“Unless what?” growled the real estate ;

dealer.
“Unless you intended to let Bart Pangler
have the deed.” |
_ At the mention of Bart Pangler’s name,
Amos Bemis grew paler than ever.
“What do you know about him ?” he cried,
quickly. ‘Tell me at once, Joe.”
‘I know he is a villain, and is doing his
- best to defraud father out of his right. to
some land which has valuable oil wells
upon it. And you are in with him.”
“Tam not. Pangler is my enemy as well
_ as the enemy of your father.”’
‘This was certainly news to Joe, and for
_ the moment he said nothing.

“That’s why [held back the paper,” went |

on the stationer. ‘I thought Bart Pangler
had an interest in the land, and I wanted to
get square with him. When your father was
so sick, I thought he was going to die, and

_ I knew if that happened, Pangler would get |

the deed somehow, and neither you nor
your sister would get a cent out of the
_ property. I reasoned that if, I kept the deed
and you were left alone, I would get the
property for you, end you would pay me for
my trouble.” j
“Perhaps,” said Joe, sarcastically. ‘But
it’s more than likely that you would have
But
Tye

og in the property for yourself.

that’s not here nor there just now.

something to do.”

_ “What—what do you intend to do, Joe?”

asked Amos Bemis, faintly. ©

“Pm going to find that deed which was

taken from the safe.” °—

“What, didn’t you take it?” gasped Amos

| Bemis. _ :

“No; I had nothing to do with it. It

_ was stolen by Ridd and Olney. It was only

_ by accident that I stumbled on a clew

_ which made me suspect that you had had
the tin box.” ‘ '

_ And you didn’t know it when we were

_ talking at the jail?” faltered Amos Bemis.

+ “No, 1 saw a were unusually excited

nd I let you go ahead and im-

_agine what you pleased. It worked well,

too.” f f i i ;

_. The real estate dealer sank Iback on one
of the store chairs. He felt too cheap for

the time being to say another word. ~*

’

CHAPTER XXX.
JOE GOES ON A HUNT.

FEW minutes after Joe had revealed
, to Amos Bemis the true
affairs concerning the missing land
deed, Tom Allon came in the store,
'so without further words the boy left the
place.

 

state of

‘Will you take the train from Ironton ?

“T don’t know yet. Perhaps it would be
better to borrow a horse somewhere and
ride to Ryan’s Crossing.”

“There’s a train stops at the Crossing at
five and another at six o'clock,” went on
Olney, after a pause. ‘You might take one

lof them. Is Morton expecting you?”
: “ft reckon so. I telegraphed to New
| York for him to come on to Philadelphia. I

: “It was just as I thought,” he said to his | know he is mighty anxious to buy the land

|father and Meg, quarter of am hour later.
“Amos Bemis had the box, and it was stolen
by Olmey and Ridd. Now the thing is, to
locate Olney.”

“Tam afraid you will have a job to do
that,” said Mr. Hurley. ‘He will keep out
of the way, you may rest certain.” +

‘And so will Bart Pangler,” put in Meg.
“Oh, but they must be rascals of the first
| water !”’

“‘They are,” said her father. ‘And, Joe,
if you go on a hunt for them, you must be
careful, for Pangler, if cornered, might not
hesitate to take a life.”

‘“T’ll keep my eyes and ears open,” re-
plied the boy. ‘‘Which way did Mr, Lum-
ley go?”

‘He did not state the direction.”

“Well, pack me up a lunch, will you,
Meg? I may not come home till dark,”’

Meg complied with the request, and after
putting on his strong mountain boots, Joe
set out on his hunt.

His first course was toward the Coal
Road, he feeling certain that Olney would
strike off for that vicinity.

He thought it quite likely that both Olney
and Pangler would not for the present, dare
to go to either Harrisburg or Philadelphia
to complete their nefarious transactions.

“T would like to know if Pangler knows
Olney had the missing deed,’ mused Joe,
as he hurried. along. ‘‘Evidently not, from
what Philander Pardone said. Perhaps
Olney will hold out for a big price for the
last bit of paper by which this transfer of
property to that man Morton can be made.”

Joe had gone all of two miles when he
' beheld a well-known figure stalking toward
|him. It was Dan Yates, the hunter.

“Hullo, Joey, where bound now, after
| some 0’ the rascals ?”
| “You've struck it, Dan,” returned. the
‘boy. ‘I want to see if I can’t trace up
Olney, or, possibly, Bart Pangler.” — ,.

“Do ye know, I half believe I saw that
| Olney back a way on the Ridgewood Claim,”
went on Dan Yates. ‘I seed somebody a-
sneakin’ along down by the Back Road, an’ I
don’t know who it could have been if it
wasn’t him.” a

_ “How long ago was this, Dan?’

“Not more’n an hour,”’ ,

“Then I’m off in that direction.”

“All right. I'd go with you if it wasn’t
that I had to take this string of woodcock
to the tavern,’’ and Dan Yates held up over
two dozen of the birds as he spoke.

“Never mind, Dan, I can go alone.
didn’t meet Mr. Lumley, did you ?”

SNOd:

Dan Yates passed on, and Joe turned his
steps toward the Ridgewood Claim, as a
dense patch of brush to the north of the
Coal Road was called.

He well understood that the search might
easily be termed an almost hopeless one,
yet something compelled him to continue
in-his quest.

For over an hour he tramped this way
and that without seeing or hearing anything
of special value. ey

He was beginning to become tired of this
when the low murmur of voices suddenly
broke upon his ears.

‘The sounds came, from somewhere in the
vicinity, but for a long time Joe could not
locate them.

He looked to the right and the left and up
in the trees on all sides, but it was useless.

With extreme caution he pushed his way
forward and presently came upon a small
hill, which, on the opposite side, slanted
down abruptly toward a cave-in on the
mountain side.

To one side of this hill was the entrance
to a very high and narrow cave, the opening
bankedron one side by sharp rocks and on
the other by bramble bushes, which in this
neighborhood seemed to flourish thickly.

In front of the cave sat twomen. The
two men were Olney and Bart Pangler.

A low fire burned close at hand, and over
this they were heating a tin full of water.
Some provisions scattered about denoted
that they had just finished a meal.

-*T feel decidedly better now,” Olney was
saying. ‘I was half starved before.”’

“It won't do for us to remain here any
great length of time,” said Bart Pangler.
“T have got to put that deal through soon,
or it won't go.” ’

’

 

You

 

“When do you start for Philadelphia ”
PEO yy ities
ins ‘ y V

and open up the wells.”

“Supposing Hurley comes down on him
later ?”

‘‘Well, I won’t be around at that time,”’
laughed Bart Pangler. ‘But I don’t see
how Hurley can come down on him after I
get the thing settled in my own way. It
would get into court, and Morton could fight
him off easily, especially.as he is rich.”

‘Well, the sooner you get out of it the
| better,” said Olney. “I am anxious for my
own money.”

“You shall have it just as soon as I get
mine.”

‘And how about Ridd?” went on Olney,
after & pause.

“Well, if I were you, I'd let him stay
where he is. We are done with him now.”

‘‘Wouldn’t try to get him out?”

“Oh, well, if bail is set at a low figure,
we might go it in a roundabout way and
give him a chance to clear out. But I
wouldn’t go much on him.”

The conversation continued in this strain
for fully quarter of an hour longer. Joe
listened with breathless interest, and for
the first time fully realized the depth of the
rascals’ villainy.

The boy was in a quandary as to what to
do.
go back to Mountainville for assistance ?

He was afraid that if he did this he would
be too long in returning, and would find the
vicinity of the cave deserted.

‘No, [had better follow them up on the
sly until we get near to some spot where I
can summon help,” he said to himself.

So he remained behind the bushes while
Olney put away some of the provisions
which had not been consumed, and Bart
Pangler disappeared into the interior of the
cave,

A minute or so later the chief of the ras-
cals reappeared. He carried im -his hand
the long-lost box painted blue. feed

“Tt was a stroke of luck to discover that
Amos Bemis had this in his possession,” he
chuckled. ‘‘How on earth did you discover
it, Doc ?”

“T learned of it one day when I was spy-
ing around his store,” was Olney’s reply.
‘He was looking at it in front of his old
safe. I learned the combination of the
safe-lock at the same time.”

“Tt’s a wonder you didn’t take something
else when you took this,” laughed Bart
Pangler.”’

“Oh, I got something before that.”

“You did?”

“‘Yos.”

“What?”

“Never mind,”

“By the boots! I'll bet you took that
pocket-book the boy was accused of steal-
ing!” declared Bart Pangler, suddenly.
“Isn't it so?”

Doc Olney laughed heartily.

“*You’vé struck it.”

“Tt’s a wonder I didn’t think of it before.”

‘‘Well, we can’t always think of every-
thing. But say, is that deed all O, K.?”

“That's what I m going to find gut.”

Bart Pangler sat down on a rock, and
together the rascals bent over the blue tin
box.

lt was not locked, and in a second they
had it open and had drawn forth a faded bit
of yellow paper, having attached to it a
ribbon and several seals.

Bart Pangler read several paragraphs
from the old deed and then nodded ap-
provingly.

“Yes, it’s all right,” he said.

“And that puts you on the right track of
the property ?”

“Yes, I can go right ahead with Morton.”

*“tood.” |

Bart Pangler continued to read on, Joe
watched him closely. How the boy wished
he could get hold of that precious bit of
paper! | 2 PREG ey a

“Tf wonder if I could rush in, grab the
paper and get away?” he thought. ‘It
would be a dangerous game, but isn’t it.
worth the trying?” ,

It certainly would be a dangerous, not to

‘say. fool-hardy proceeding, but Joe was so
‘anxious to secure his father’s property that

he did not think of the personal peril in-
volved. Ad +) erty

He was about to shift his position in
order to gain a place directly behind the

 

two criminals when an unexpected interrup-
tion occurred,

 
 
  

Would it be safe to leave the spot and’

There was a crashing in the bushes on the
other side of the little clearing, and a second
later Ralph Lumley stepped into sight.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—_--+ - ——__

A CURIOSITY OF NATURE.

>

 

 

Ng 7 OT so very long since it was an ac-
JM cepted belief that living creatures
) i. low down in the scale of existence

were brought into being under cer-
tain conditions by what was called sponta-
neous generation—in other words;-that, like
Topsy, they “just growed,” without starting
from any germs in particular.

This was supposed to happen when flour
and water were mixed together, for exam-
ple, and permitted to stand for a while.
Paste so made will quickly develop swarms
of little animals, the surface being covered
with small wrigglers resembling eels in
shape. Not the slightest indication of life
can be found in the mixture when freshly
made, and yet but a short time elapses be-
fore it is filled with active organisms, whose
term of being is only brought to a close
when the material on which they feed is en-
tirely consumed.

How did they get there, to begin with, is
the question which has been satisfactorily
answered by the very simple explanation
that their eggs, set afloat by evaporation,
are always blowing about in the air like the
germs of countless species of other animal-
cule. Some of them fali into the paste,
which affords a suitable feeding-ground for
the creatures when hatched, and they very
quickly form a colony there.

If you will put a small quantity of good
vinegar into a wine-glass and examine it
with the naked eye under a strong light you
will find the fluid filled with slender, thread-
like bodies in rapid motion. These are the
eels of vinegar, which, when viewed under
the microscope, are found to be longer and
more active than the paste eels, though not
so thick. ;

They can be seen to great advantage by
inclosing a drop of the liquid between two
pieces of glass and casting an image of it,
magnified by a solar microscope, upon a
large screen, when hundreds of eels, each

¢

a

be seen crossing and recrossing the surface,
and darting and twisting in every direction.
Their motions are evidently quickened by
the glare of the sunlight that falls upon
them through the lenses, and which they
try to shun.

—_—__+- > —____

AN ECCENTRIC MAN,

We used to know an eccentric old man
who delighted in being odd, and carrying
out his taste in dress and manners; never-
theless he was kind and honest, just in his
dealings, and a man that used great plain-
ness of speech. He generally wore a red
vest of great length, patriarchal style, and
the ribbons on his hat were streaming in
the wind full half a yard long. One very
cold morning he called at the’ minister's,
na a dialogue followed something like
this: |

“We are having a pretty spell of cold
weather, elder.”

“Yes,” said the parson, “the coldest we
have had this season.”

“Thad a misfortune happen to me last
night,” continued the old gentleman; ‘a
fine calf died.”

‘‘Ah, indeed! chilled through, I pre-
sume?” said the minister, sympathizingly.
“Yes, and as if that wasn’t enough, my
boy got up and died to, and I want you to
come down and officiate to-morrow.”

That we call coming to the subject care-
fully. Pacing
—————_ >> __—-

ORIGIN OF TRADE-MARKS.

 

t -

Trade-marks are understood to be near-|
ly as old as the industry of the human
race. Ancient Babylon had property sym-
bols, and the Chinese claim to have had
trade-marks one thousand years before
Christ. Gutenburg, the inventor of print-
ing, hada lawsuit about a trade-mark,
and won it. As early as 1300 the English

the laws of other countries have also pro-
tected them, Extraordinary means have
been required. at all times to guard
against the fraudulent use of marks of.
manufacturers, If there were no means
of identifying the trade-mark, the best
goods at once lost their value. This was
discovered very early, and it is deemed
probable that the successors of Tubal
Cain were the first to use distinctive
marks on their manufactures, -This is

 

about as near as it is possible to arrive
at data. © - rey er

apparently more than a foot in lengthy,

| Parliament authorized trade-marks, and —

   

 

  

 

)

y

  
   
   
   
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
    
   
    
  
  
   
    

    
    
  
 
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
    
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
    
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
    
         

at,
ai)
ch

“>
a
Sa

     
   
    
     
   
   
      
      
    
     
    
     
    
  
      
     
      
     
       
   
     
     
    
    
    
    
    
      
     
    
     
       
         
    
       
      
   

 

eS

 

- ill-will of the authorities,
. fore been cautious in his treatment of this

 

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

BLUE AND WHITE SAM

OR,

RIDING FOR FORTUNE.

 

BY ERNEST A. YOUNG.

* a

[“BLUE AND WHITE SAM” was commenced in
No. 213. Back numbers can be obtained of all
News Agents.)

CHAPTER XVL
RAGSDALE’S DEFIANCE.

AM realized that the critical moment
had come—a moment that might have
an influence, either for good or ill,
during the rest of his lifetime.

The startling suspicion which had
dawned upon him while in headlong flight
from the burly man who had come to arrest
him was this :

The man was a humbug !—not a legally
empowered policeman at all—merely a clever
but brutal hireling of Bamford Brayles !

This, we say, was Sam’s suspicion. It
was a suspicion only, and he could hardly
have told upon what it was founded.

Yet, as the moments passed, and the en-
counter began at the stable, as detailed at
the close of the preceding chapter, the
youth felt more and more confidence in the
justness of his assumption.

With this feeling came a determination to
fight the enemy to the bitter end.

The burly officer-—as we shall continue to
call him for the present—leaped toward
Sam, and the latter once more sprang to the
other side of his employer.

The latter trembled with anger under the
rough attack which the other had made
upon him. , .

Mr. Ragsdale was no athlete. Tall and
attenuated in form, and without muscular
training, he wasas a child in the hands of
such a man as the putative policeman.

Yet, by the agility of Sam, he found him-
self once more between the pursuer and
fugitive.

“Get out of the way, you shark!” cried
the officer, again advancing upon Mr. Rags-
dale.

“Don’t let him hit you again!” said Sam,

“ALN

to his employer. For the latter, despite the

certainty of defeat, was in a mood to stand
his ground in defense of his plucky jockey.

“Tet him arrest us both,” said Ragsdale.

“That's about the point I was going to
propose,” said Sam. ‘Only I was going to
put it in anotherway. If he is a genuine
officer I’m willing to go with him, for I'll get
a fair show in court, anyhow. But he can’t
object to taking you and Tripp along, too.
Then you can speak a good word for me at
the police-station. I see Tripp is out yon-
der, watching to see how the picnic pulls
through. Come, officer, if that’s what you
really are, what do you say to the idea ?”

‘When I make an arrest,” he exclaimed,
“J an’t in the habit of pulling in the whole
neighborhood, with all the family and rela-
tions of the culprit. No, sir, you come with
me on my own terms, and if that slim-
shanks wants to do anything for you he will
have a blooming chance when you have
your examination.” .

This answer seemed to confirm Sam’s sus-
picion. é f

If the, man were really what he repre-
sented himself to be there was no good rea-
son for his refusing to allow the friends of
the one whom he wished to arrest to ac-
company him to the city. -

It was plain that the man would not take
his prisoner on those terms.

“You're pretty particular,” said Sam.
“But I suppose your city is more strict with
its police than small towns like New York
ud Philadelphia are!” —

“You will come along and make no words

‘about it,” said the putative officer.

Ragsdale was not slow to understand the
point for which his jockey was angling.
Being so deeply absorbed in the anxieties of

his own affairs, the gentleman did not at

first observe anything suspicious in the
looks or actions of the one who had come to
arrest Sam. ,

But now that a suspicion dawned upon

his mind, and he regarded the man more

closely, he was convinced with even greater
certainty than was Sam that the so-called
policeman was a fraud. —

As coming events were to prove, Mr.
Ragsdale himself had no desire to incur the
d. he had there-

officer.

“But the new com lexion upon affairs lent
by the suspicion of the man’s ungenuine- '

nf

 

 

ness rendered Sam’s employer as bold as his
natural manliness would have impelled him
to be were he free to show his real char-
acter.

“Then you're not willing to take a friend

of mine along if I consent to go with you as |

a prisoner?” Sam asked, slowly retreating
as the other again showed signs of spring-
ing upon him.

“J arrest you alone. I have had too
much experience with your sort to burden
myself with the care of too many prisoners
at once. If your friends wish to appear in
your behalf they will have a chance at the
proper time.”

‘See here,” Sam exclaimed, making a
nimble backward leap as the officer at-
tempted to seize him, ‘‘why can’t you stop
and reason a little, instead of acting as if
your time was so valuable. You will get
just as much pay for standing here talking
as you will for running your legs off chasing
me—-don’t you see? Now wait a minute,
for I am going to make an offer that you
can’t refuse if you're honest.”

Again the other hesitated.

“It isn’t the thing for officers to palaver

when they go to arrest a young ruffian that |

burns barns !” he said.

“That's so. And when you know Ima
barn-burner you needn’t show me any
favors. Now, listen: You’vye got a buggy
here for taking your prisoner into the city
with, haven't you?”

SPN S 5,

“And itis too small for more than two
passengers ?”

‘Altogether too small.” .

“Still you can’t object to my friends driv-
ing along with a separate team, either just
ahead or close behind us, if I let you take
me ?”

The officer compressed his lips and
shifted his feet nervously. Mr. Ragsdale
looked at Sam, and the gentleman and his
boy jockey smiled. |

“That's it,’ said Mr. Ragsdale,
quickly. ‘‘We won't keep you waiting
three minutes. I'll tell Jack to hitch right
up, and I'll guarantee that we have a nag
who will keep up with yours. Just the
thing, Sam !”

“No, sir+-I don’t wait three seconds!”
cried the officer, growing red in the face
with anger and chagrin. He realized that
the boy’s logic had ‘‘put him in a hole.”

“You young villain!’ he exclaimed.  “T'll
waste no more words with you! I didn't
want to use a youngster too rough, but I'll

put the twisters on ye, sure as smoke, if ye

make me any more trouble !”

He again sprang toward Sam, and, as Mr.
Ragsdale still blocked the way, he would
have flung the slender gentleman out of his
path as he had done before.

“Stop!” came in a stern voice, which
Sam had never before heard from the lips of
his employer.

. Mr. Ragsdale had drawn a dainty little
revolver, and he covered the burly ruffian
with a steady hand.

Tripp had drawn nearer; with Jack
Gardner he was now staring at the exciting
tableau, their eyes distended with amaze-
ment. ‘

It looked decidedly like a battle, and Tal-
way Tripp forgot the dollar which Sam had
loaned him, and what it would buy, in the
contemplation of the scene which promised
greater excitement.

The putative officer obeyed the stern
order of Mr. Ragsdale without an instant’s
delay. His own hand wandered to the
pocket to which he had returned his
weapon, while his eyes shifted trom one to
the other of his adversaries. | ,

“You're interfering with an officer doing
his duty !” he exclaimed, with an effort to
keep up the show of authority.

‘I’m doing nothing of the kind, and you
know it.”

It was Ragsdale again who spoke. And
for once he looked like a man of power—one
who would not yield.

“You're interfering with me arresting
What do you call

that’ boy, an’t you?
that?”

“You are a fraud, and you know it. I
don’t believe you area policeman, any more
than you are a college professor or a doctor.
Come, get away from here lively !”

The man half drew his weapon, then re-
turned it.

“You better look out, you hoss-thief !” he
muttered. _

“(et a move on you!”

Ragsdale’s eyes were blazing, and he took
a step toward the ruffian, his slender figure
trembling with sudden anger.

The other retreated a few paces to where
his team was standing under a tree. He un-
tethered his horse, got into the buggy, and

then bent his burly figure toward the horse- |

owner. ;
“Ye heard what I called ye?” he cried,

 

|

  

GooDdD NEWS.

3477

 

pointing at Mr. Ragsdale with his whip.
“T called ye a hoss-thief! So mind how
high ye carry your head around here !”

Ragsdale took a hurried forward step.
The small weapon in his hand sounded a
warning click.

‘Go!’ he thundered.

The man took up his reins and struck his
horse. Away he sped in a cloud of dust,
and in a moment the team was out of sight.

Ragsdale put up his weapon and looked
at Sam. His face had grown deathly pale
in that last exciting moment, but now he
made a sickly effort to smile.

‘He was a fraud, Sam, as you suspected!”
he exclaimed.

‘Another of Bamford Brayles’ lackies,”

| said Sam.

|
|
;
!

|

 

“Without a doubt.”

“‘And he meant to get me off with him,
and then to hold me somewhere so I
couldn’t ride at the race.”

“That was his game—and it was a bold
one. They don’t let ruffians impersonate an

 

officer around here without making them |

pay dearly for it. He thought we wouldn't
dare to prosecute. Yet he had best not push

me too far ; I may turn out to be something |

besides the craven he thinks me !”

Sam, and Talway Tripp as well, was mys-
tified by the sudden fierceness. displayed by
the usually mild-spoken gentleman.

Tripp had seen Mr. Ragsdale angry be-
fore, but never in such a mood as this.

Jack Gardner could only stare at his em-
ployer, bewildered by this new phase of the

| gentleman’s character.

Mr. Ragsdale laid one hand lightly on the

‘arm of our hero, and said, with sudden

 

|

 

kindness:

“We know what it is to have enemies
who are ready to take any advantage of us,
don’t we, Sam ?”

“I guess we don’t have all smooth water
to sail in,’ said Sam.

“But it makes it easier where we can
stand by each other. I tell you, my boy, it
is a great thing to have one thick-and-thin
friend in the battles of this life, and you'll
find it out so if you live ten years longer.”

“T have found it out already.”

“You have had a touch of the hard lines,
perhaps, but you never had them drawing
tighter and tighter about your life year after
year, as I have done! ,But—never mind,
Sam ; I won't whine, I’ve some fight left
in me yet, and if you will help me to win
the race next week, Ill feel like a tiger
again. I say, Tripp—ha! he is gone !”

The eccentric jockey had indeed glided
away, and was out of sight.

“But he hasn't a nickel in his pocket, and
so I’m sure of him,” Ragsdale added.

“I think he’ll come round straight,” said
Sam, remembering the dollar which he had
lent him.

CHAPTER XVIL.

DRUGGED !

UNDAY passed devoid of incident
with Sam ‘Talbot.
He had lost so much sleep that he
spent some hours profitably in mak-
ing up thislack. To a man or boy who
works hard, this day of rest should never
co | e amiss. ;
Besides, there are few who are so correct

 

in their lives but their moral nature needs

some overhauling upon at least one-day out
of seven—a point which, I fear, occurs too
seldom to all of us.

Talway Tripp appeared at the stable in
the afternoon, and, Mr. Ragsdale was re-
lieved to note that he seemed to have kept
sober so far. He even helped Jack Gardner
to groom the horses, and he had never be-
fore seemed so anxious to help his em-
ployer.

“That man may not have been always as
square as he should be,” he said to Sam.
«But there is a mighty white streak in him,
and somebody has shown him great injus-
tice, after all. I believe I will do the best I
can for him for once.”

“He says that if he can win in the races
this week it will pull him out of an awful
hole,” said Sam.

‘Then he must win. I'll speak for Jilly.
She is a hustler, and I know how to bring
out her points. And as for that wild colt,
Sam—she is your meat !” ee

“J and the colt are in it to win!” said
Sam, confidently. aN yd

Monday morning did not find Sam asleep.
Although the races did not begin till after-
noon, there was enough to be done in the
interval.

Mr. Ragsdale looked pale and anxious.

As the time for the test of his horses ap-
proached, it became evident that the out-
come was to be a matter little short of

life or death to him. x

| that Ragsdale has been warned.

 

He was still silent on the score of his
secret fear of Bamford Brayles and the ruin
which would come if he were to lose the
race. Yet he made no bones of telling Sam
that to lose would be the most serious
calamity that could befall him,

Tripp appeared at the stable in good sea-
son. ‘l'o the intense relief of Mr. Ragsdale,

he appeared to be in good trim for the work |

in hand.

“You spent the dollar?’ Sam asked, when
he found himself for a moment alone with
the eccentric jockey.

“T spent the dollar,” smiled Tripp.

‘But you kept your promise, and that’s
all Task of you.” e

“The dollar bought its face value, Sam,
and it was the means of saving me from
feeling’ like a cotton string this morning,
You wil: 3t v- ur vay, Sam, with good inter:
Bate OPE

“Kia we? ar * nt. Tripp, since you
didn’t go iock © yotir “rd. I +e"l you, I
feel as if wi ‘ ge and

Wout 2 ee
a OOTP A} ;
fortunes of that ian in our wu. ds_.. this

| time !

“It is likely we do, or somet!.ing like that.
How about that Brayles? He hasn’t made

| & move against us yet?”

‘‘That policeman fake that he tried on me
settled him, I guess,” said Sam.

‘Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You think he’ll try something else ?”

“He won't give it up till the race has been
run, and he may not then!” said Tripp,
gravely.

“But what else can he do?”

“Make some sudden stroke just when it

| is too late to save ourselves.”

“He won’t dare to do it.”

“Oh, it won’t be anything that can be
traced to him straight. He knows how to
cover his tracks.”

“You know I overheard some of his plans,
and that’s why he isso fast to get me out
of his way.”

‘He will do none of the things that you
heard him plotting, for he knows, of course,
It will be
something new--a sudden blow, like a
thunder-clap !”

“You're in the dumps, Tripp,” laughed
Sam. ‘Everything looks blue to you.”

“Blue and white are our stable colors,
Sam ; perhaps that is the reason, But sure
as smoke, I feel it in my bones that sonte-
thing is going to drop before this business
is finished.”

“It may be Brayles’ jockey that will drop,
if he tries any of his tricks at the track.”

“You're green and dead sure, same as all
the young kids are when they begin to ride.
But you're sharp enough, and all you have
got to do is to keep your eyes peeled and
not bind yourself. too close to the fortunes
and misfortunes of anybody that happens
to use you well. The chaps that succeed in
this world stick toa friend while it pays,
and then drop him like a hot potato ora

squeezed lemon when there’s nothing more —

to be made out of him.”
With this bit of questionable advice, Tal-

way Tripp sought his employer to talk over —

final details of the race.

All were at the track in the forenoon.
Tripp ‘limbered up”
runs around the track.

It was a noisy and bustling scene. It
was said that the laws against all forms of
race-track gambling would be strictly en-

forced. Yet the “book-makers’ were on —

hand, and whoever might desire a chance to

win or lose his money—especially to lose— _

need not have sought far.

At noon Mr. Ragsdale and Sam tooka

hurried lunch at the track. The gentleman,
as the hour of his trial approached, grew
more calm and confident.
‘‘Brayles is here,” he said to Sam.
he is going to put one filly into the race.

He won some money at the trotting race
Saturday, and seems to be feeling good. I
let usdo —
what we can to-day and to-morrow without _

think he will bide his time an

trying any of his tricks.” ay
“I hope so,” Sam returned.

‘sAnd as for Tee he has behaved like a —

hero! TI begin to Jove the fellow !” Ragsdale
exclaimed, enthusiastically.

\

“Tripp will stand by you in this business, _ ;

whatever he does in the future,” Sam
warmly predicted. \

The excitement increased as the hour for —
the race drew near. Sam kept away from |
the other jockeys as much as possible, since __
he was suspicious of some possible attempt _
to injure him before the morrow, when his

part of the affair was to be played.

The fact that Brayles seemed to be peace- ay

ably inclined did not reassure him. He re-

membered the prediction of Tripp, and did _
not intend to be caught off hisguard.

Sam was standing near Mr. Ragsdale,

who was conversing with other horsemen, — Pt

when a boy came running into the midst of

Jilly in two pretty |

“And ©

 

+
x <

 
 
3478

GOOD. NEw s.

 

the group. He was a freckled youngster,
and a younger brother of one of the jockeys.
‘“Where’s der N’York chap?’ he de-
manded, casting a swift glance from face to
face in the group.
Ragsdale looked at him quickly.
“T’m Mr. Ragsdale; mean me?” he asked.
*You’re der chap. Come dis way, will
yer, and hustle !”
_ ‘Fhe boy started off, but the hand of Rags-
dale fell upon his shoulder.
‘What do you want?’ he sternly de-
manded.,
“Come outer der crowd and I'll tell yer.

shoutin’ der business from der judges’
stand. Gita move on ye, or your part in

der race’ll be in der soup !” vay
A sudden pallor shot the face of
Mr. Ragsdale. He tio Por sam to fol-

low, ang he hurgdd Mer #Me boy, who led
ria where Jack Gardner and
two h

objecBon the ground.

ockeys were bending over an

**He’s too sick,” said the boy, glibly, rnn-
ning ahead.

‘Sick !—whom ?”

“Yer jockey—Tripp, dey calls him. Guess
he’s goin’ to croak, by der way he takes on!
Took sudden jest as he was goin’ to take der
filly to der post!” -

Mr. Ragsdale did not stop to hear more.
With Sam he was at the side of his jockey
in an instant,

Talway Tripp it was indeed, who lay
groaning upon the sward. Ragsdale bent
over him, seized him by the arm and shook
him fiercely.

‘You miserable dog, to play me this trick
at this time!” the man cried.

Jack Gardner respectfully interposed.
Sam bent over his comrade.

“Don’t judge the lad,” said Jack. ‘He
isn’t drunk any more than Ibe. He’s sick
—-can’t yesee? Landy!—but it an’t the
thing to handle a dying man like that !”

The words brought Mr. Ragsdale to his
senses. He saw that, in truth, something
more serious than intoxication was the mat-
ter with his jockey. The face of the latter
was livid in hue, and great beads of perspi-
ration stood out upon his forehead.

He seemed to be gasping for breath.

Sam would not have been surprised to
see his friend expire at the next moment,

“Foul play here!” cried Ragsdale.

His white fingers felt for the young man’s
pulse.

“Bring a doctor, quick! There are a
dozen on the ground !” he ordered.

“What is it, Tripp?” Sam softly asked, as
the eyes of the sufferer rested upon his
face. ; ’
‘I—I don’t know—unless I’was—dosed !”
was the husky response,
“Dosed!’ echoed Sam, springing to his
feet. And the sharp eyes of the boy-jockey
keenly read the expressions upon the faces
of those who were looking on.
But he saw no guilty countenance there.
“Tripp said there’d be a sudden blow,”
said Sam. . ;
“And it has come, when it is too late for
me to stand from under,” was the low re-
sponse of Ragsdale.
To look at the latter one would have
thought that he was suffering almost as
keenly as his jockey. Yet, as the full signi-
ficance of the blow came to him, he grew
outwardly calmer.
Two doetors were at hand in a moment,
and they agreed that the condition of the
jockey was serious in the extreme,
“He may die!” was their startling verdict.

  
  

   
  
   
   
  
   
   
  
    
   
  
    
   
   
    
  
  
   
  
 
 
    
   

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE START.

RIPP has been dosed! And it isa
art "of the plot to ruin me?” Mr.
-) Ragsdale repeated again antl again,
Yet, even in the face of his mis-
fortune, the gentleman did not forget to
ive orders that Tripp should receive the
a of treatment.
he hour for the race had come. Horses
and riders were ready to go to the post. It
was at this critical moment, that Sam found
himself confronted by his pale-faced em-
ployer, a little apart from the crowd. Jilly
pawed the turf with her dainty hoofs near
them,
“Sam, this is a matter of more than money
~ to me!” the man exclaimed.
“I suppose it is, sir,” said Sam.
“You have worked Jilly once around the
track. But you don’t know her ways, nor
she yours. Yet, if you will, I want you to
ride this race. What say you?”
The man’s voice shook with emotion.
_ He gripped Sam’s arm. At the same time
he looked at his watch and added:
a “You have ten minutes to decide and get
_ . tothe post. And—see here—money is no

 

He told’ me not ter be partickler “bout |

 

object to me—at least, not the sum it would
cost me for the best jockey in the world !”

“I’m not the best jockey in the world,”’
Sam replied.

“It is the best jockey in the world, who
will win for me in this race. I haven’t said
a word about pay for you—I advanced you
a little money to get along with, and watched
to see how youspentit. You're straightas a
man need to be. I was going to give Tripp
one hundred dollars to ride Jilly for me,
and five hundred in cashif he made her
win !”

Sam’s heart. gave a bound, and his eyes
shone. He knew that jockeys obtained
large sums for their services sometimes—he
knew that a few lucky ones had received
several thousand dollars for a single success-
ful race. ;

There had been times when he had
dreamed of obtaining some fabulous sum
in that way, the same as everybody dreams
of a success in his chosen calling, which
falls only to the few.

“Five hundred dollars is a slew of
money !” was all Sam could find voice to re-
spond.

‘Win this race for me, Sam, and I will
pay you one thousand dollars within an
hour!”

Could our hero credit the evidence of his
ears ?

He caught his breath with excitement.

Mr. Ragsdale smiled faintly. He looked
again at his watch.

‘‘Five minutes!” he exclaimed, and shut
the case of his time-piece with a snap.

“Tl ride!” Sam breathlessly exclaimed.
“And,” he added, through his teeth, ‘I'll
win if I have to lift Jilly over everything
on the track—horses, jockeys and starting-
post !”

Mr. Ragsdale caught something of the
boy’s enthusiasm. His pale cheeks flushed.

“Come, then,” he said. ‘It may not be
wholly a disadvantage that you undertake
the race upon short notice. They found a
chance to drug Tripp, and so get him out
of the race, and if they knew you were to
ride they would try to fix you, too. Come,
Sam, take Jilly and do your best! We will
beat the treachery of Bamford Brayles yet!”

With his brain in a whirl Sam hurried to

join’ the half-dozen jockeys with their
horses who were already in the paddock.
Jack Gardner, led up Jilly and Sam
mounted,
Sam had already been provided with a
suit in the colors of his employer's stable—
blue and white. And with his fair face and
bright eyes nothing could have been more
becoming to him than the blue cap and
sweater and white breeches.

The illness of Tripp was on the lips of
every jockey and horse owner. A large
proportion of those who heard of it winked
knowingly, and laughed. They thought it
was only another of the jockey’s ill-timed
sprees.

When Sam rode up to them with Jilly he
was at first hardly noticed. It had been
taken for granted that Ragsdale’s filly
would be withdrawn from the race.

But Lanky, who, as it turned out, had all
the while been secretly in the employ of
Bamford Brayles, was the first to notice the
presence of the jockey in blue and white.

‘‘Ho, chicken, so it is you!” he ejaculated,
with a leer. \

“It isn’t anybody else,” Sam returned,
without looking at him.

“And that is Ragsdale’s filly ?”

“Tt is Ragsdale’s filly.”

“Tripp on a jag, and so the gent thought
he’d try the chicken, eh ?’’ sneered Lanky,
in a tone which the other jockeys could not
fail to overhear.

**You'll have all you can do to look out
for those long shanks of yours without
worrying yourself ‘about the chicken !” was
Sam’s retort.

With this utterance he resolved to pay no
further heed to anything that the other
might say.

He glanced keenly at the faces of the
others who were to ride in the race, for he
knew that he would not have an easy time
of it if all were against him. , oh

In his success with Wildfire, in which he
had so neatly thrown Lanky, he knew that
he had won, at least, the temporary good-
will of the other jockeys. But this feeling
might have been offset by adverse influences
since that event. | Mi

There was the usual amount of chaffing
and “bluff” among them, but he could not
see that any more than the expected share
was aimed at him.

“Lanky is the only one that I have got to
look out for in the race !” was his thought.
And he was prepared to give Brayles’

 

jockey all he had bargained for if the latter
were to make any dishonorable attempt to :
defeat him.

The signal to go to the post and take

}2

 

their positions was given. There was no
more time to exchange ‘‘compliments” with
the other riders.

There was a great crowd of spectators.
In the incessant hum of voices the names of
the favorite horses could be frequently
heard. But that of Jilly was not among
those which were mentioned.

This was not surprising, since Mr. Rags-
dale was a stranger in that locality, and his
horses wholly unknown.

Still many curious eyes were fixed upon
the clean-limbed filly and her youthful rider
as they came to the post. And once Sam
caught. the words, from somewhere in the
midst of the crowd:

“The youngster in blue and white? Oh,
that is the chap that takes the place of the
jockey that some say was drunk, and others
that he was sick. A young lad, and the
filly, nobody knows anything about. A
pretty animal, though !”

“They'll know more about the filly pretty
soon !” was Sam's mental comment.

He was so excited that he hardly heard
what the starter was saying. But a sudden
hush fell upon the crowd; then the signal
sounded and he saw the flag fall !

Obedient to rein and whip the racers shot,
away upon the track. A yell went up from
the spectators. ‘It was a good start.

Sam glanced to the right. He met the
leering look of Lanky. Jilly and the lean
colt of his rival were neck-and-neck !

(TO BE CONTINUED. )

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

LITTLE HICKORY

OF THE

MOUNTAIN EXPRESS:

OR,

FROM SWITCH-YARD TO LEVER.

ee ee

BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR,

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

 

 

 

——o-———

>
(“LITTLE HICKORY OF THE MOUNTAIN EXPRESS”
was Commenced in No. 207. Back numbers can be
obtained of all News Agents.}

CHAPTER XXXIV.

LITTLE HICKORY UNDER ARREST,

47 AKE up, Little Hickory! wake up!”
We /\ shouted the frantic fireman, shak-
\¥ ing him by the shoulders with all

the power he could command.

The shaking was not without its effect,
for the boy-engineer opened his eyes and
drew his figure to its full height, while he
stared vacantly into the space ahead.

“Look—the train!” cried his companion,
wildly, pointing at the cars in\their path.

That sight instantly aroused the over-
worked boy-engineer, and he began to do all
in his power to avert the collision which
seemed inevitable.

The train proved to be a string of empty
ears run out from the junction to get them
away from the fire, done in the excitement,
without consideration of what the result
might be otherwise.

Fortunately it was not going at any fast
rate of speed, and Little Hickory’s whis-
tling quickly arousing its engineer, no ser-
ious contact was made.

Little Hickory’s engine did poke her nose
into the rear car, smashing it into kindling
wood, but beyond that no damage was done.

This train was then taken back to Mos-
hannon as fast'as possible, to make room for
the relief, and the scene of the fire was soon
reached, when it was found that the fire
laddies would have all they cared to do!

Regardless of his condition, Little Hickory

at first thought of lending such assistance
as he could, but the man who had fired for
him on the way from Lock Haven, at first
threatening to report him, upon learning
what he had experienced for the past four
days and nights, persisted in finding him a
place to get the needed sleep he must have
soon. ;
At a house away from the scene of the
conflagration, where he was comparatively
safe, our hero slept through all of the wild
fight for the homes of Moshannon.

Not until the gray light of morning began
to break in the east did the gallant fireman
think of returning to Lock Haven, when
some one was sent for the young engineer.

But Little Hickory was sleeping such a
sleep that all attempts to awaken him were
baffled, and disgusted and angered at

of you.

 

this strange neglect of duty, the man made

his report at the train, when another was:

obtained to run the engine on its homeward
journey.

The disgraceful report made to Mr. John-
son made that official smile and nod his
head in a knowing way.

“Tl see that he is dealt with in a sum-
mary manner,” he said. ‘I think the rest
will see now what I have been trying to beat
into their thick heads for a long time.”

Meanwhile Little Hickory slept on, until
the people where he was stopping got
alarmed, when the man aroused the sleeper
and tried to get him to move about. But
Nature was not satisfied yet, and turning
over on the other side, the over-worked boy
fell into another slumber.

It was past noon when Little Hickory
awoke of his own accord, and started up
with a series of yawns that must have sur-
prised the spectators had any been present.

‘“‘How I must have slept,” he said aloud,
“and I really believe I could fall right to
sleep again. But whew! I guess the folks
will think Iam one of the seven sleepers,
And there is that train to be taken back to
Lock Haven. And the fire! I must be on
the move.”

Springing from his.couch withont further
delay, he hastily dressed and left his room.
His surprise may be imagined when he
came to learn the time of day.

He was considerably concerned as to how
his non-appearance at his post of duty
would be received at headquarters, but his
was not a nature to ‘‘borrow trouble,” and
finding he could not go home tor nearly an
hour, he gladly accepted an offer to stop to
dinner.

After dinner he walked down to the vil-
lage, or at least where it had stood, to find
now only the charred remains of what was
the previous day beautiful Moshannon. The
depot and all the buildings in the heart of
the place had been burned, grim monu-
ments of fire-eaten chimneys and blackened,
skeleton walls marking their sites.

Men were already tearing away the ruins,
to begin a new up-building of it all, how-
ever, and among the busy overseers was
Mr. Linton, who at sight of our hero
stopped work to say :

‘‘Hilloa, deserter! you are a pretty man
in a ease of emergency. I shouldn’t won-
der if you were wanted at Lock Haven about
this time.”

“Tam going down on the two o'clock,”
replied Little Hickory, who knew the sta-
tion master’s crabbed way well, enough not
to expect a different greeting. ;

He left Moshannon as he intended, but as
the train steamed into the station at Lock
Haven he was somewhat surprised to
notice a couple of policemen apparently
looking for some one who was expected in
on these cars.

A short distance apart from them, he saw
Mr. Johnson walking the platform with
quick, nervous steps, while he ever and
anon cast furtive glances toward the officers.

In blissful ignorance of the reception in
store for him, Little Hickory stepped down
from the train, when the officials advanced
briskly to his side, the foremost saying :

‘You are our prisoner, Andrew Caswell !”

‘*Prisoner ?” he could not help asking, in
a tone of surprise. ‘For what am I
arrested ?” :

“Perhaps you would prefer to wait until
we get to the police station before you hear
it read. There are so many round here.”

“T have done nothing, sir, I am afraid for
the public to know.” .

‘‘Let him hear it if he wants to,” said Mr.
Johnson, approaching the spot.

“Hilloa ! what-does this mean ?” suddenly
called out Vice-President Swallow, who had
been attracted to the place by the sight of
the arrest. ‘What? Little Hickory under
arrest? What does that mean ?”’

“He is arrested for criminal neglect of
duty, Mr. Swallow,” said Johnson.

‘Who ordered it?” demanded the pom-
pous vice-president. “.

“I did, sir,” replied Johnson, with equal
sternness, though he looked very red in the
face,

“Zounds, man! why hadn’t you spoken
to me about it?” ¥

‘When one of our employees is found
asleep at his post, particularly if that post
happens to be the responsible position of
an engineer on a train where hundreds of
lives are jeopardized, I do not think it is
necessary to lose any time in ordering his
arrest.” ; ae

“Thunder and lightning, John Johnson !
‘ou don’t mean that Little Hickory slept at

is post? Zoynds, man! preposterous,
ridiculous, absurd, outrageous! Unhand
him there, officers! I will be responsible
for his presence. Come up to the office, all
We will look into this matter, be-
fore any arrest is made.”

a IE tts

ee

apres,

a

——

oh
>

Sas

 

 

 
vf

!

|

|

{

?

}

}

A

i
en
Vi
i .
}

)
ees

“ ee . -

FT

>

=

:
+
i
|
|
f

 

aati

 

/

- Johnson.

CHAPTER XXXV.

AN EXCITING INTERVIEW.

    

SHE officers, looking in surprise from
tf % one speaker to the other, released
Y), their prisoner.

aoe “J judge, Mr. Swallow, in your
present temper of mind, you do not care for
me to be concerned in this investigation of
yours !” exclaimed Johnson, a scowl making
more than commonly dark his swarthy
features. A

“I do want you, Johnson, and you will
come right along with us.”

And Mr. Johnson went.

Not a word was spoken by the little party
until they had entered the vice-president’s
private office.

“Are the other gentlemen here aware of
this charge against Little Hickory?” asked
Mr. Swallow.

“They could not be very well otherwise,
with their knowledge of the boy’s unfaith-
fulness,” retorted Johnson.

“Call them in, sir.”

When the door was again closed, Little
Hickory was asked to give an explanation
of his conduct.

“Did you fall asleep at your post, young
man?” demanded Mr. Swallow, in the tone
of a judge before his court.

“I did, sir.”

A smile chased the frown from Mr, John-
son’s visage, as he nodded his head toward
the officers.

“Zounds! you did, boy?” stormed the
‘vice-president.

“Before you condemn me, Mr. Swallow,
or any of the rest of you, I want to tell you
how I came to betray the trust reposed in
me.”

“Zounds! I don’t see anything to hinder
you from doing so.”

*«This is the veriest drabble !” interposed
‘You see, Mr. Swallow, from his

own confession—and I will acknowledge I
did not believe he would have the cheek to
own it—that he has been guilty of the
charge I made against him. Why prolong
this useless discussion ? . It willall beshown
at the trial. Let the officers perform their
duty, and have done with this farce. Our
time is worth too much to——”

Mr. Swallow stopped him with that well-
known wave of his chubby hand.

“It will take no»tlonger for him-to talk
than for you, Johnson. I am curious to

hear his story.”

Then Little Hickory was allowed to give
his explanation of the extraordinary events
through which he had passed during the

ast four days and nights. He told how he

ad come out of his adventures on that
memorable last trip of the Mountain Eagle,
and how on that very evening he had been
sent on the special to Shippen, from which
he did not return until Thursday morning,
to find an order for him to go to Blooms-
burg immediately.

“And do you mean to tell me you had not
slept all this time?” interposed Mr. Swal-
low.

‘Fudge! this is boy’s nonsense,” said
Johnson, beginning to pace the floor.

“JT had not taken a wink of sleep since

Monday night, sir,” continued Little Hick-

ory. ‘ButI have only begun my experi-
ence.

“The trip to Bloomsburg cost me twenty-

four hours of hard work, without a mo-

ment’s rest. WhenTI got into Lock Haven
again I flattered myself that the ordeal was
over. But again I was met with an order to
continue my work. This time I was sent to
Tyrone, sir, as fireman on the Mountain
Express.”

“I thought I would make it as easy for
him as I could,” ventured Johnson. ‘You
see, the straits we have been in for help
has made it hard-——”

“Go on, young man!” commanded the
vice-president.

Little Hickory described this eventful
trip, and the narrow escape of the train from
collision with the accommodation at Red
Meadows, and how, when Lock Haven was

“reached, he was ordered to take the firemen
to Moshannon.

‘This made nearly a hundred hours, Mr.
Swallow, I had been without rest or sleep,
and on one continuous round of duty. -Do

ou wonder I fell asleep on duty at
ast?”

, ‘Zounds! I only wonder that you were
living. How isall this, Mr. Johnson ?”

“It is evident that you care more to hear
the boy talk than me. I prefer to tell my
story in the court-room, where it will be in
regular order,”

“Mr. Caswell, do not let your troubles
disturb you, but go home and get the rest
you need. I hope you will be able to go on
the express, Monday.” .

~

 

GOooD NEWS.

CHAPTER XXXVL that Johnson had already gone on his
) special,

Little Hickory immediately sought for |
| Mr. Swallow, and after what seemed to him |
Mr. | a long delay, he found the vice-president, to
left the | apprise him of what he had learned.
Knowing the character of the pompous |
~° easily, though he knew he was guilt- | official, it is easy for us to understand the |
less of any misdemeanor. | difficulty and delay our hero experienced in

He. found Mrs. Hastings nearly crazy | making him understand the situation.
over his long absence, she having received . When he did understand it he was wild |
no word from him since he had got back | with excitement.
from Shippen. “Zounds, boy! what a man you would |

“I was sure something dreadful had hap-| make if you were my size!” he exclaimed, |
pened to you, Andy.” dancing to and fro in his excitement. .

“Well, have no further fears, auntie. I | ‘*What shall we do? You know this is your
feel that my worst daagers are about over.” | game, and this shall be a handsome night’s

“T hope so.”

About dark Mrs. Hastings was overjoyed

FLIGHT OF THE ENEMY.

 

XPRESSING his thanks to
) Swallow, Little Hickory
office, only too glad to get off so

 

 

 

“First, Mr. Swallow, telegraph to Tyrone

and Little Hickory very much surprised at/| to have the special stopped and Mr. John-

the appearance of Buck, who had not been | son arrested. Then we will follow if there

seen for some time. He was greatly excited, | is an engine which we can get to take us

and hardly answering his mother’s greeting, | there.”

he turned to our hero, saying: “Zounds! I believe your plan is best.
“I was afraid you wouldn’t be here, for I| See what you can find for conveyance while

have learned how they have been putting | I send the message.”

you through a course of sprouts. I have |

 

mistaken, will almost take away your breath. | this :
c = ; > , :

I came back Reena I found oui Carl “Stop that special and hold every man on
Dennett and his chums meet this evening to | ),oarq until I get there.”
concoct another plan of theirs in a cave less
than a mile from here. They are to meet at! Meanwhile Little Hickory was looking
half-past seven.” after an engine with rather poor success, as

“We must be there, Buck!” exclaimed Lit- ) they had all been run in for the night, with
tle Hickory. ‘‘Will you lead me to the | one exception, and it would take half an
place ?” | hour to have this one in readiness.

“Oh, you two musn’t go alone!” As they could do no better, this was ac-
Mrs. Hastings. cepted, and as soon as possible Mr. Swallow,

learned something else, that, if I am not} to send off his message, which ended ms

 

cried |

«We can’t stop for help, mother. Besides | Little Hickory, and Buck Hastings sprang

 

that wouldn’t help the matter any. If we | aboard, it having been decided to take only
can only get there first, 1 know where we | an engine.

can hide and witness the whole proceedings.| Buck was to fire as best, he could.

Iam with you, Little Hickory,” Then the bell rang out sharply, and with

|
work for you if you succeed.”

| he had been outwitted.
Then he rushed into the telegraph office |

 

 

|

3479

cried. ‘I shall have to have help to move
it.”
Little Hickory instantly went to his as-

sistance, followed by Mr. Swallow, still

| groaning and complaining.

It required the united efforts of the three
to lift the obstruction, after which Little
Hickory ran ahead a short distance to see
that no further hindrance was in their way.

Starting back toward the engine, he was
startled to hear its sharp whistle ring
shrilly in his ears, followed by the snorting
of the iron steed, as it bounded away again
on its course

Little Hickory had barely time to leap
from in front of it, as the engine sped
past, and looking up in amazement, he was
thunderstruck at beholding Carl Dennett at —
the lever, and his confederate, Saul Bleaks,
at the fire-box.

The sardonic laugh of the escaping out-
law rang in’ ja@ears as he gave full play to

| the power ol steam. «

Little Hickory couin not refrain from ut-
tering a cry of dismay, as qze realized that
Tag
(TO BE CONTINUED.)

——_~>_ 6 + __——

'
“ Grumblers.”

sre

SCX HERE are thousands of persons who
ste believe in luck. They are gener-
(2. ally unfortunate themselves, or, as
—“ they call it, unlucky. They feel
themselves sinking, and see their neigh-
bors rising, all through luck. They
were born unlucky, and, believing this,
they make no. particular effort to stem

ithe tide which sets against them, and so |
| drift into hopeless failure. They watch the
|suecessful man to see what this mythical
| Goddess of Fortune bestows upon him, but |

oer ~ A , . AA 7 “to ite wi & a
Then let us be off at once. Have no|an angry puff, the engine started on its wild | fail to note the amount of labor which he

We will look out for our-| journey through the night.

fear, auntie.
On and on, mile after mile, sped the en-

selves.”

«Oh, dear me! only a minute ago you | gine at arate of speed, which fairly took |

said your adventures were over, and here; away the breath of its passenger, who had
you are running right into them again.” not realized the thrilling experience before

The cave designated by Buck as a meeting | him at the outset.
place of the outlaws was reached in less
than twenty minutes, and the couple se-|ing, thus enabling Buck to give his undi-
creted themselves in what was deemed a/ vided attention to the fire, while Little
safe nook in season to escape being discov- | Hickory maintained his constant vigil.
ered by those who soon after appeared upon! Station after station was passed like a
the scene. flash. ;

Foremost’ tanre- Gentloman Carl, hardly Red Dnek, Ashbury, Flotsham, Denmore,
looking that which had given him his name. | a half-dozen of others, Moshannon, with its
But he came in with his usual swagger, and | smoking ruins, and then the descent to Red
lighting a cigar, began to smoke compla-} Meadows.
cently. “Zounds ! cried Mr. Swallow at last, un-

He had only fairly begun his smoke, when | able to remain silent longer, “can’t you let
a second came, whom Little Hickory saw by | her down a little? ‘We shall be thrown to
the light of the cigar was the man who had | the moon if we keep on at this way.”
taken him to the old stone building, and} Great beads of verspiration were stand-
who he supposed had perished in the fire | ing out on his face, while his fat form shook
there. like a huge jelly fish.

‘You are on hand, boys!’ said a voice at

the entrance of the cave, before either of | little? I verily believe we have left the
the first two had spoken, though no foot-| wheels. Say, Hickory Caswell! Ill give

you a hundred dollars to stop and let me
walk. Zounds! I'll make it a thousand, if
that is what you want.” m

“Consider the consequences, Mr. Swal-
low, if we are too late!”

“JT an’t thinking of the consequences now.
Who owns this road, young man? If you
don’t stop I'll throw you off.”

“Keep your seat, Mr. Swallow; we are
all right. Keep the bell ringing. We shall
have to stop at. Milesburg for water, when
you will have a rest.”

“Zounds } never'll get me into this trap
again. Zounds! Mister, I expect every
minute will be my last. Hold on to me,
Hastings! Iam bouncing like a foot-ball !”

No one who has never ridden on an en-
gine has any idea of the fearful sensations
experienced by him who makes a trip of this
kind for the first time.

Buck Hastings turned as pale as a faint-
ing person, though he said nothing, as the
mad race went on.

Suddenly the eye of the boy-engineer
opened wider than common, and he sent a
piercing look along the glittering, track.

What was that lying right across the
rails ?

The lever was pressed forward, the steam
shut off, the brakes applied, and with the
drivers scraping on the iron the engine was
brought to a stand-still with an abruptness
which flung Buck Hastings flat upon the
foot-boards, while the pompous vice-presi-
dent was doubled up like a jack-knife.

“It’s all over with me !” he exclaimed.

“There is something on the track !” ex-
claimed Little Hickory. ‘See what it is,
Buck.”

Quickly springing down from the cab, the

steps had been heard.

The new-comer was John Johnson, who
advanced with cat-like steps.

“Put out that cigar, unless you. want to
betray us,” he exclaimed.

When the other had done this, hé said:

“Now for a dozen words, and then we
must be off. Have you the booty all ready?”

‘‘All ready,” replied Gentleman Carl.

“Good. Now then, I have arranged to
leave town at once. I shall go on a special,
in pretence to ‘l'yrone, but really to Altoona,
and perhaps farther. I will look after my-
self and my share of the booty. I advise
you both to shake the dust of this region
from your boots as soon as possible.

‘Though our plans have failed in many
particulars, we ought to be satisfied. I go
with only one regret. It is to leave that in-
fernal young Caswell to gloat over our par-
tial defeat. Had you done your duty, Saul
Bleaks, he would have been out of the way
some time since, and I should have been
spared this flight. But sheer luck has car-
ried the fool through, and to-morrow I shall
snap my fingers at him and all the rest.
Farewell.”

From the movements Little Hickory
judged they were shaking hands, after which
the sound of retreating footsteps alone broke
the silence. 7 p

“We must get to the station with all haste
possible,” said Little Hickory, as soon as
he dared to speak.

Then they crawled from their narrow cor-
ner to look for the retreating outlaws.

Though the last were not to be seen, they
did not think it wisest to venture forth un-
til they were quite sure the desperadoes had
got beyond their hearing, as it would warn
them of the discovery of their plot.

Little Hickory did not allow very much } find that a huge log had been hurled across
time to pass without starting for the depot, ! the track.
but when they had got there it was found! “It is big enough to have wrecked us,” he

 

| Yet to

| capital.

| until he was landless and very poor.
| ritt Smith, who was giving away his large

fireman ran ahead of the cow-catcher, to |

|renders to secure the golden,blessings of

the goddess. :
Why is it that such people are blind to

| the fact that intellect and energy are needed
|everywhere to win success; that if . they

ype f Fi yealth they
He had been told to keep the bell ring- | ae He eee eae nee

| prizes come to the lazy, or to those who

ard? No

are waiting for something to turn up.
many success seems nothing |

but Inck. To their eyes, energy, ambi-

| tion, and resolution are worthless unless
|the lucky star shines upon their possessor.
|. These people are, constitutionally, grum-

blers. They look on the dark side and
think they have a hard time in life. One of
these found an old silver coin worth seven-

| teen cents.

“Hang it,” said he, “that is always my |

| imek, If anybody else had found it, it
| would have been a quarter.”
|friended by Gerritt Smith belonged to this

; | class.
“T'say, Mister Man! can’t you ease up 4!

A man be-

He was a schoolmate, a man reck-
oned with that large proportion of mortals |
who never can or will accumulate or keep
On the death of his father he came
| into possession of a farm, with house, furni-
| ture, stock, implements, and all things nec-
essary to a comfortable home and paying
| business; but he sold, lost. by the sale, sold’
| his next home, and his next—always losing, |

Ger-

patrimony in small parcels to landless men,
‘gave the man a house and lot, but took the
| precaution to deed it to his children, For |
; awhile the restless man was very happy in
| his new home, but soon grew tired of it and
! wanted to sell out. When he found that it
was not in his power to render himself and
‘family homeless once more, he exclaimed, |
in great bitterness: ‘“There, Gerritt Smith
has ruined me !”

He believed this, and never forgave the
man who had prevented that trade which
would surely have made his fortune.

If these idle dreamers would seek for the
true cause of success they would find it in
hard work, patient application, and present
content. There is no such thing as luck;
but steady, uncompromising labor tells.
A happy combination of circumstances, |
brought about nine times out of ten by a |

| man’s own industry, is too often mistaken

for good luck. Some men grow rich; every-
thing they touch seems to turn into gold;
but if we watch these men closely we shall
find that it needs more than a touch to se-
cure gold. We shall find them to be, asa’
class, men of good judgment, sagacious, un-
tiring in their labors, deserving success by |
the persistency with which they follow it

up.

Fvealth never comes to the idler. MWis- |
directed energy may fail to secure it, but if
it comes at all it must be deserved or won
by some special effort. ©

 

—_———— > +- oo \
A HAND (horse measure) is four inches.
a

 

NRE ame OS pip eerie

 
    
     
 
 
    
 
      
      
   
     
      
       
           
  
  
  
  
     
     
     
   
   
   
   
    
    
     
   
 
  
 
    
 
   
  
    
  
 
    
 
   
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   

ISSUED WEEKLY.

NEW YORK, JULY 7, 1894.

 

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

Bmonths - - - - - 65c. |;One Year - - - - - $2.50
4months sic, | 2 copies, one year- - 4.00
6months - - - - - $1.25 | l copy, tivo years - - 4.00
Goop NEws AND N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50
How 0 SEND Monry.—By post-office or express
money order, registered letter, bank check or dratt,
at our risk. At your own risk, if sent by postal note,
currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter.
RENEWALS.—'The number indicated on your address
label denotes when your subscription expires. All
subscriptions will be stopped promptly at expiration
of time paid for.
Recerpers.—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged
by proper change of number on yeuygpbel. If not cor
rect you have not been properly ¢ ed, aid should let
us know at once. h
To CiuB Ratsers.—Uy@ request we will send sam-
ple copies to aia yow in obtaining subscribers.
AGENTS.-gOur sponsibility for remittances applies
only to ad sent to us direct, and we will not
guarantee E reliability of any subscription agency
or postmaster.
All letters shonld be addressed to
STREET & SMITHS GOOD NEWS,
27 & 2) Kose Street, N.Y.

 

[AOR AEE 7 APIA

Contents of this Number.

isi eigchatetien

SERIAL STORIES.

“Among the Gypsies,” by John H,. Whit-
son.
“The Boy From the West,” by Harry
Dangerfield.
“Blue and White Sam,” by Ernest A.
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.
iS SHORT’ STORIES.
_ Saved bya Money ny Roger Starbuck,
_ *@oncerning Boys,” by Marco.
“Grumblers.”
Real Hero,” by Capt. L. C. Washburn.
ng the Alligators.”
ammer-Boy’s Stratagem,” by Mau-
e Sullivan.
fee ae ’ is mo
LAR DEPARTMENTS.
With the Boys,” by Arthur

— “Short Talks 1

e — Sewall.

_ ©Ticklets,” by Chas. W. Foster.

“Mail Bag,” ‘“Kxchawge Departinent,”
“Club Notices,” ete. .

SPECIAL!

Look out, boys, for the next issue! It is
| the Fourth of July number, and will be full
| of bright and timely things.

There will be commenced a Revolutionary
story, entitled

SCOUTS OF THE SWAMP FOX:
er of the Pedee
poy IR

a

~The Rough Ri
: ; : JOSEPH E,

_ This story is descriptive of adventurous
deeds, in which the renowned General Mar-
‘ion, the ‘swamp fox,” and his scouts took
We shall also begin in this number a series
| ofsketches on our military and naval service,
the first to be devoted to the _

West Point Military Academy.

 

for us by the favorite author, Lieut. Lionen

_ Lounsperry, and can be relied on as correct
in every particular. — i.

- Also, a capital Fourth of July short story

new anecdotes, ete., ete, ete. "

It is a number full of plums. Be sure and
et your friends know of it, _

   

 
 
 

 

 

“LOOK OUT FOR NEW FEATURES! |

iF

 

 

4 These articles have been specially written.

 

CGrooD

CONCERNING BOYS.

BY MARCO,

UL-m- ; a
o)es\OR the essence of pure ‘‘cussed-

. ness,” take youngsters from eight to
. thirteen years. They are up to snuff
generally, and are not to be sneezed
at, and whether they are to blame or not,
they get all the credit. For who are they
that stone the frogs, trip up old women, fill
your boots with water, throw spit-balls at
your head, scare the little boys to death,
and frighten the girls out of their five
senses, tie tin kettles to dogs’ tails, drown
the kitten in the well, and hang the old cat
on the sour apple tree? Who drive the
geese to water, litter up your floor with
shavings, daub your best table-cloth with
paste, adorn your front fence with mud, hang
up their clothes on the middle of the kitchen
floor, and paint your old white horse a la
zebra? Who are always raising Cain about
the house, waking up the bab, and kicking
up pandemonium wherever they may be?
Who is it that puts bricks in the hat on the
sidewalk, and cayenne pepper upon the
school-room stove, plug up the funnel when-
ever they want a holiday, and whistle when
the teacher turns his back? Who are al-
ways the first in mischief, first at the other
end of their class, and the first to stay after
school? Who are always breaking their
necks, cutting off their fingers with the hay-
cutter, jumping into bramble bushes and
scratching out their eyes, and tumbling over
their own shadow? And, finally, who are
they that go to college and get into all kinds
of scrapes, while the girls stay at home and
attend to their tatting? \ Answer—the boys.

It is also as true as preaching, that, as a
class, boys are the best abused animals that
walk, the mule not excepted. For who is
it that crawls out of his warm bed at four
o'clock on a frosty winter morning, feeds
the ‘‘eritters,”’ splits the kindling-wood,
builds all the fires, brings all the water, and
gets cuffed around until he doesn’t know
which ‘end he is standing on? Who
does all the chores, is always in the
way when his sister has a beau, and doesn’t
know beans when the bag is open? That
boy...
. Boys have figured much in history and
everywhere else, except upon the. black-
board, which they have left to the girls to
monopolize, while they play marbles, or
wind the never-ending string around peg-
tops, which never spin, while they have a
terrible headache at nine o'clock, and dig
worms the rest of the day, while they play

    
 

“Shookey” and go in swimming, or swap jack-

knives and otherwise improve their minds.

Althongh they can tell you who won the
last walking-match, and what is the cham-
pion base-ball club, and when the next great
agricultural horse-trot comes off, still they
cannot always repeat the Declaration of
Independence backwards or tell the reason
why some pumpkins look like watermelons
in the dark.

History tells us that Simple Simon and
Peter Piper were both boys.

It was a boy that stood upon the burning
deck.

Nobody but a boy would have waded
through snow and ice, to Jug a banner with
the strange device, ‘‘Excelsior,’” up a moun-
tain, when the probabilities were that it
would rain.

And wasn’t B. Franklin a boy once, and
didn’t he fly his kite the whole fourteen
skeins, and, catch thunder, and have not
most of the boys been catching it ever
since? gh

Adam was also of the masculine gender,

but as he never was a boy his education |

had been much neglected in a sour-apple
point—and besides he did not know much
about girls. |
Without the boys, history would be dull
reading, for there would be no Jack and the
Bean Stalk, no Dick Whittington and his
wonderful cat, and no bad little boys with
which to point a moral or adorn a tale. t
Boys are useful in their sphere, which,
like a woman’s, is somewhat limited. :
Although all well-brought-up girls thin

that boys are “perfectly horrid,” still they |

are not slow to embrace the opportunity—
if it is a boy--of being escorted home from
singing-school by one of these horrid crea-
tures, especially if the moon does not shine,

| and there is no gas down their way.

‘Boys are useful to strap on the girls’
skates, to scare off the cows, to carry the
extra shawls and lunch baskets at picnics,
and to crawl under the circus tent, and get
‘Hail Columbia’ when they are caught. ‘

Boys are great to fill up with. They are
a regular bonanza to the politicians, for if
they cannot vote and do hard sums and
make up slates, they can carry torches,

‘while the oil trickles down their backs,

Fs

7

 

‘| of business is nothing more or less than an

NEWS.

for the candidate on either side, and get ar-
rested for noisy and boisterous conduct.

Boys are a great institution ; they are ir-
repressible; and though their apple-cart
may occasionally upset, still, like truth,
although knocked into a cocked hat, they
will rise again.

The digestive powers of boys and seven-
teen-year locusts are about “nip and tuck,”
and they swallow anything from a hoe-cake
up to a brick on toast. Regularly they eat
frequently, and are always hungry, and it
seems as if they were built hollow; and if

they would, in the meantime, lay in a sup-
ply of apples and raw turnips, and take
two or three lunches, for such an appetite
has got my Billy Boy.

The following maxims may be found in
“Poor Richard’s Almanac,” if you look
hard: Boys should never try to lift them-
selves over a fence by the straps of their
boots or the seats of their pantaloons.
Never promise to “lick” another boy after
school, without he is smaller than you are,
and does not have a big brother. Always
put off until to-morrow what you cannot do
to-day, if the skating is good. Never sauce
aman without he sauces you first. If a girl
smacks you in the mouth, smack her back.

and that the rolling stone gathers no swill.
Anybody can run for President, but every-
body cannot be a boy.

Next to girls, we don’t know what we
should do without the boys. If we were a
woman, we suppose that we should emigrate
or go West. e have seen it stated on the
best authority, that if there was only one
man left in the whole world, and he upon a}
desert island, all the old maids would run |
the risk of being drowned trying to swim
over to him, \

Banish the boys and you might as well
shut up shop and ring down the curtain.

—~<— 6 >

Snort FArKs

frp

 

 

make bonfires, and yell themselves hoarse

you should have six square meals a day, |

Remember that the still pig gets no moss, ;

 

Wira Tue Boys

cxpeaeipenin dip welt

EDITED BY ARTHUR SHWALL.

 

MORE ABOUT ASKING QUESTIONS.

Before you begin to question, be careful
to remember that your purpose is to get
something—not to give yourself away.

There are thousands of quick-witted me-
chanics and machinists throughout the
country who have devised improvements of
which somebody else reaped all the bene-
fit. They complain that their ideas were
stolen, when the fact is that they gave them
away; at least, they let them ‘‘lie around
loose,” by talking too much about them.

“Findings is keepings” is a custom as old
as the world. It isn't the highest order of
morality, but you won’t find many people
sorry for you if you lose something through
not having sense enough to keep your eye
.on it; and not letting it be a temptation to
others.

If you have invented something in me-
chanics—and a new idea in any department

invention—keep it to yourself until you
have got it in proper shape to benefit you.
If, as is probably the case, there is a link
missing or a screw loose somewhere, that is
the point about which you want to ask ques-
tions.

No matter how much you feel like turning
your mind inside ont, and explaining why
you ‘want to know,” you may get some
glory by being known as the author of a
‘new idea ; but you can’t deposit glory ata
savings-bank, or pay i rent with it.

Besides, the glory will keep, if it’s the
genuine article, until you make your pile,
and the more money the more aye

Hosts of the successful men of the world

re doing business on other people's ideas,
and they get all the glory besides; you never
hear of the other fellows. Indeed, you
never hear much of anybody who talks too
much; people like to forget that sort of a
chap as soon as possible. >

Be sure of what you want to know about
before you ask your questions, then you'll
get what you are looking for.

Find out what has been done or is being
done in the line of your idea, whatever it
may be, then you will know how to operate.
_ “Great minds think alike,” consequently
hundreds of smart fellows are disappointed
every week at the Patent Office alone, by
discovering that what they ee was a

 

| excellent.

 

new idea with them has already been util-
‘ized by somebody else. natok

 

I know a shrewd fellow who saw there
would be money for a grocery store in a lo-
cality that hadn’t such a convenience ; but
just after he had hired a little place, and be-
gun to buy stock, a bigger grocery store
opened next door, as he might have learned
had he first asked some prudent questions.

Don’t fear you will be double-faced if you
frame your questions so discreetly that
people will not know what you are up to,
Nobody wears his heart on his sleeve, unless
he wants the birds to peck at it.

And don’t fear you are taking advantage
of the people who answer you; there are
thousands who know much and talk well to
one who knows how to put his own ideas
in practical shape.

Ask questions ; it will yield youa great
deal of worldly wisdom, besides what you
are particularly after.

Next week we shall have something to say
in regard to the advantages of holding one’s
tongue,

But for the present we'll turn to our
letters,

K. 0. .W. Heaters, W. Va., writes: “I am a
subscriber and reader of GooD News. I
first turn to the column of your Talks
With the Boys. As [ am 18 years of age I
claim to be one of them, and will give you a
few lines of my case. Would he very much
pleased to have you give your opinion and ad-
vice through the Short Talks With the Boys.
Your articles on saving money have not es-
caped my notice, and will say it has been my
eis when receiving ny wages to put it in the
1andsof a goodcitizen, oninterest—that is, the
wages [ receive through the railroad company.
1 am 18 years of age; am agent of the rail-
road at this place, working on coinmission, (5
per cent) which of course varies. Some months
the commission will amount to $25, and then at
others it will be down to $10, and sometimes

| lower. I have a good show of receiving a better

position after a while. My work always passes
through the auditor’s office with but very few
changes, which I think to be very good indeed.
I also have the post-office in my charge, and
receive a compensation of $8 to $10 per month
from it as acting assistant postmaster. Board-
ing at home, I have this money clear, and
loan it at 6 per cent. interest. I am sorry to
say my eyesight is not real good and I have
to wear glasses. I do not like the confinement
any too well. What do youthink ané advise me
todo? Keep onor not? I havea telegrapi
instrument and am learning telegraphy, wht

belongs to railroad work.” ig)

There is much food for reflection 1
letter, You are young yet, and are
tainly doing remarkably well for the
present.

bi adi ns Thay

ideas, is eorbaim Sooner or later
to obtain recognition from his employers,
Remember that, in your present position,
you have achance to obtain a good idea
of the business, and there is always an
opening for a good railway man,

Our advice to you is to “keep on.” Do
the best you know how, and don’t get
impatient to reach the top of the ladder
ina day. What we have said so often in
these talks we repeat once more. There
is much truth in the old adage: “A roll.
ing stone gathers no moss.” Go slow be-
fore you make a move, which may be for
the worse.

A CONSTANT READER,'Holyoke, Mass., writes:
“At present lam working in a small cotton
mill for small pay. em
Epr some tiie I have been thinking of what
trade to learn.
Would you advise me #0 become one? [have
written several short stories. The more I write
them the better they become. I have but a
poor education. Several nights in the week
some boys and myself meet and we tell stories.
I make up the stories I tell. The boys do not
believe I make them up, no matter what I tell
them. Please tell me the full particulars of
the life of an author. Would you advise me to
write a long story and then try tosell it?
Should I write it in book form or continned
story? Tellme the one the most money is in,”

In order to be a successful author, the
very first essential is an education. No
matter how prolific an imagination you
may have, you certainly cannot sell your
writings, unless you are able to write
grammatically. A thorough acquaintance
with the best literature in the line of
writing you desire to take up is also of
prime importance. ,

If you are unable to obtain a college
education, the best plan is to seek for
employment on some daily newspaper.

o tell you the full particulars of the
life of an author, would be a difficult, if
not an impossible task. It is, undoubt-
edly, no exaggeration to say that the life
of an author is hard, up-hill work before
real success is reached, and in nine cases
out of ten the result is comparative fail-
ure. There are some few authors who

-bave made large sums of money out of

their writings, but, on the other hand,
there are thousands who do not obtain
enough to keep body and soul together.
We dislike very much to discourage
ou, but, to be entirely frank with you
n your case it would take years and
apa of study before you could hope to
ave anything accepted.

SprciaL Notice.—Many communica-
tions, improperly addressea to this de-

parlineeh ‘are answered in the “Mail — Wt a

ag.”

 

 

ch
‘tela

cer- —

A boy of your good sense-and:~

I do not like my job at all. -

I like the trade of an author. ©

 

      
 

      
     
 

      
       
     

cya
ae

ai Estee

ne

 

Sciam Casitas ae

SS

 
 

|
|
|

ey 4

GoOoDp

NEWS.

 

3481

 

[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. }

Pai BOY eR

MT WHOL;

OR;

THE STRUGGLE FOR THE WHITE HORSE MINE.

BY. HARRY DANGERFIELD.

(“THE BOY FROM THE WEST” was commenced

in No. 215.

News Agents.)

CHAPTER X.
A STARTLING ASSERTION.
STAHE thief !”
at 2 This exclamation broke from Bart's
uy lips, as he clutched excitedly at the
~~“ man’s arm.

*’Sh!” cautioned the individual who had
been thus unmasked.

The stranger took note of this scrutiny,
and he finally asked :

‘Can you place me now?”

Bart shook his head.

“Not quite,” he confessed, ‘‘and yet I'm
pretty sure this yere an’t the first time we've
met.”

“You're right, young feller.
Prindle.”

I'm Buck

Back numbers can be obtained of all

i ; g
coffee and then wiped his mouth with the

| back of his hand, after which he said :

“I s’pose you want to know why I swiped
them certificates ?”

‘“Wa’al, I wouldn’t object.”

“J used to work for your father in the old
mine,”

“Then that explains why you looked
natural tome. I must have seen you some
time in them thar days.”

Prindle nodded.

“Dead sure, kid. I’ve seen you lots of
times, though you have changed amazingly
in the last four years.”

“But this don’t explain why you corraled
the stock.”

“T’m just on this way from Colorader. I
went through the mine two weeks ago.”

Bart caught his breath sharply, while
Buck Prindle grinned in a knowing way.

“What did you find thar?” slowly ques-
' tioned the boy.
| ‘I found where some bloke had put in a
| blast and blowed down a few tons of rock.”
} “Wa-al?”

 

| for breakin’ an’ enterin’ in Chicago.

 

sion, and there was a fierce look in his
eyes, as he ground through his teeth :

“The sneakin’ traitor! Since I was par-
doned out three months ago, I’ve found it
was his money that procured my conviction
And
all the time he was pretendin’ to be my
friend! When Iwas sure of this, I swore
I'd get square with the old villain some way,
and I'll do it! Ill make him beg before I’m
done, or my name an’t Buck Prindle !

“When I got to New York, I discovered
he was out of town somewhere, and then by
diggin’ around, I found out Jubal Heep was
his lawyer, and had charge of the shares I
wanted. I went to Heep’s office. The door
was open, an’I stepped in. Heep was in
the back room with Mr. [ra Wilson, and
they didn’t hear me come in. [I laid low
and heard the job put up to stick the sup-
posed-to-be worthless stock on the Brit-
ishers. Then I slipped out an’ follered
Wilson when he showed up, waiting for my
chance to swipe his grip. I knew if I could
get hold of the stock I had a way to make
Stark relinquish his

 

 

“You'll attract atten-
tion, kid !”

‘“‘Wa-al, that thar’s
just what I want to do,”
hotly returned the boy
from the West. ‘‘I want
to attract the attention
of a policeman.”

“Don’t make a fool
of yourself!” snapped
the man. ‘I’m your
friend.”

A look of scorn swept
across the lad’s face,
and he quickly re-
turned :

“Wa-al, not to any
great extent! I don't
make pards of such
galoots as you.”

“Wait,” urged the

stranger, ‘‘wait till you
hear what I have to
say.”
“T don’t reckon you
can say anything that'll
make you any less a
thief and a sneak. I
kind of ‘low you want
to talk so, you can find
a chance to give me
the slip. No, Mr. Thief,
that thar game won't
work.”

“But you are dead
wrong, boy. What do
you spose I was fol-

owing you around for
if didn’t wantachance
to talk with, you.”

*‘T don’t know.”

“T was waiting until
IT found a good chance
to speak to you with-
out attracting the no-
tice of anybody.
There’s some. blokes
staring at us now on
the opposite side of the
street. Come into this
hash shop, where we
can sit down and talk
across atable. You can
keep watch of me and:
grab me if I try to
sneak.”

Bart hesitated.

“What if I was seen
having a pow-wow with
you, stranger ?” he said.

 

i

\

 

 

 

 

 

|

ly 7
HA Hh | ‘| owed him to the Fifth

Wu |
—>

claim on it to me, but,
at the same time, I was
just as stire Wilson
would not turn it over
if I struck him for it.
“Well, Ijust followed
that agent everywhere
he went, and I was in
the smash-up over in
Jersey. Then I shad-

Avenue Hotel and saw
the number of his room
on the register. That
was when I noticed you
the first time, an’ you
looked natural, though
I couldn’t just place ye
then. Isneaked up the
stairs, and waited till
Wilson left the room.
Havin’ a rig of skeleton
keys, it didn’t take me
long to open the door
after he went down, but
I barely got out as you
an’ he came up. to-
gether. You can wager
your wealth [I lost no
time in gettin’ down
stairs, but I was. stop-
ped and questioned
about my business
there. That gave you
time to get down and
see me goin’ out. You
know the rest.”

Bart had listened at-
tentively, and he now
observed:

‘“‘Wa-al, Mr. Prindla,
you may have told the
squar’ truth, but I
kinder think you took
aright crooked way of
getting hold of the
shares. You're a thief,
and you can’t get
around that none what-
ever.”

“Tm simply gettin’
square with old Cy
Stark for the dirty deal
he played me.”

“Them thar shares
don’t belong to Mr.
Stark any more. I’ve
bought them for
twenty-five hundred
dollars, and paid down
fifty to bind the bar-

 

 

 

 

 

 

“They say now that I
am a side-pard of yours
on this crooked piece
of business, and they'd have what would
look like proof if we were seen together.
No, I——”,

“IT can tell you some things that will
knock you silly,” cut inthe man. ‘I know
a few points about the White Horse Mine,
your father and Mr. Oyrus Stark.”

The boy felt a strong desire to hear what
this strange thief had to say, and he finally
yielded to it, following the man into the
restaurant, where they sat down at a little
side table in a corner. ©

Bart was hungry, but the excitement of
having found the thief had driven all
thoughts of eating from his mind. How-
ever, when the man coolly gave an order
from the bill of fare, the lad decided to
have something, and he called for a roast,
with vegetables.

All the while, he was studying the face of
the thief, who seemed quite unconcerned
and at his ease. More than ever did the

THE BOY

man’s features seem familiar to Bart, but if
he had ever seen the fellow before, he
could not remember
where.

just when and

 

FROM THE WEST SET THE LARIAT WHIRLING ABOVE HIS HEAD, AND MADE THE CAST FOR LIFE.

But that name did not bring any light to
Bart’s mind, as the blank look on his face
plainly indicated.

The food they had orderede was now
placed before them, and Mr. Prindle began
eating at once, appearing very hungry. The
aroma of the roast and coffee re-awakened
the boy’s appetite, and he was not long in
following the man’s example, although his
mind was busy with a jumbled mass of
ideas, which, nevertheless, did not cause
him to relax in the least his vigilant watch
over the thief.

All at once, when he had partially satis-
fied his hunger, he was struck forcibly by
the singularity of the situation and the
thought that he was eating at a table with a
man whom he knew to be crooked.

“Say,” and he put down his fork, looking
the other square in the face, ‘‘I reckon I’m
daft to be doing a thing like this yere. I
came in hyar to listen to what you've got to
say, and if that yar’s anything, spit her out
mighty smart. I’m going to tell a waiter to
call an officer right away soon.”

Mr. Prindle deliberately took a drink of

 

“I was brought up in a city,” Prindle
went on ; *“‘but the time I spent in the old
mine when your father an’ Stark were
workin’ her, fixed me so I can tell pay ore
when I see it. I found that blast had rip-
ped its way right slap into a rich lead. My
eyes told me that, but I scooped some of
the stuff an’ took it to Denver to be as-
sayed. As soon as I heard the result, I
swork I’d have the White Horse Mine by
hook or crook.”

Bart pressed his lips together and
watched the man closely, but said nothing,
while the miner continued :

“I didn’t have more than enough wealth
to buy a second-class ticket to New York,
but I came right along, countin’ on scoopin’
that stock, all the time. Mebbe you wonder
how I expected to do the trick. Well, I
knew it would not be very hard if old Stark
still owned the shares, for I have a double
and twisted grip on the sinner, though he
didn’t expect to be troubled by me for the
next eight or nine years, as he supposes I’m
servin’ a ten years’ sentence in Joliet.”

Prindle’s face began to work with pas-

 

 

gain; so you were really
stealing from me.”

“Tm glad to hear this, an’ I’ve got a pro-
posal to make.”

“What is it ?”

‘That you pay the rest of the money an’
agree to take your chances on recoverin’
the stock.”

‘What then?’

“You'll get it all right, if you'll agree to
give me half interest in the mine. That's
a fair offer, an’ you can’t refuse.”

‘“‘Wa-al, I do refuse, all the same, for I
don’t propose to go into partnership with
ary galoot of your caliber, Mr. Prindle,” and
the boy arose to his feet.

‘What are you goin’ to do?” anxiously
asked the man.

‘“T’m going to see an officer is called in,
and direct him to arrest you instanter,” was
the prompt reply.

Prindle was really alarmed, for he real-
ized the boy from the West would not be
easily turned from his determination, and,
though he claimed to have a hold on Stark,
he had no desire to give the man another
opportunity to send him to jail by means of
his money and influence. pt te

 
3482

GooDpD

 

NEW S.

 

“Say !” he gasped; “‘hold on a minute !”

Bart was looking around to catch the eye
of a waiter. and the ex-convict hastily con-
tinued:

“You want ter get a grip on old Stark
yourself, an’ I can tell you something that'll
fix you so you'll have him foul—something
about your father.”

He saw he had struck the right note, for
Bart hesitated and turned toward him, ask-
ing:
ecWhat do you know about Mr. Stark's
-dealings with my father ?”

‘Well, I know more’n you dream-—lI even
know he beat your mother out of her rights
after your dad croaked.”

“You say you know this, but how do you
know so much ?”

“Set down,” urged the man. ‘“T'll tell
you some things that'll make your hair
stand. I was in the mine when your father
was killed, an’ I know just how it hap-
pened.”

There seemed to be a hidden meaning in
Prindle’s words, and Bart Stone felt his
heart give a sudden leap. Now he was
eager to have the miner continue, for it
seemed possible the fellow really could re-
veal something of importance.

The man saw that he had aroused the
lad’s curiosity, and he added:

“I an’ one other was the last ones to see
re father alive, kid. Do you know just

ow he came to his death ?”

“T know he was killed by a premature
blast. It was a terrible accident !”

‘Accident !” returned Buck Prindle,
scornfully. ‘Let me tell you your father
wasn't killed by accident, young feller !”

 

CHAPTER XI.
TRYING TO GET AT THE TRUTH.

HE words struck Bart Stone like a
blow in the face, and he turned
hastly pale, staring in speechless
orror at the man who had given

them utterance.

‘Not killed by accident?” he finally man-
aged to gasp.

“That's what I said,’ nodded the ex-con-
vict.

The usually slow and deliberate lad leaned
across the table, and, like a flash, his fin-
gers closed with a grip of iron on Prindle’s
- wrist.

“Man,” he panted, shaking with emotion,
“do you understand the full meaning of
them thar words ?”

The miner looked startled by the strange
manner of the boy, shrinking back. Bart's
eyes were filled with a wild light, and the
clasp of his — revealed to Prindle that
the boy was the possessor of remarkable
strength,

“Do you know what you have said?” |

came hoarsely from the lad’s lips.

“Of course I do,” mumbled the one ques-
tioned.

“What did you mean?”

“Just that.”

“My father did not commit suicide?”

“Of course he didn’t.”

“Then thar’s only one meaning to be put
to what you just said.”

Prindle was silent, a look of fear stealing
over his face, for he realized what was
coming.

“If my father was not killed by accident
and did not commit suicide,” the boy went

-on, his voice now sounding hard and re-
strained, ‘there is but one explanation of
his death. He was murdered !”

It was the ex-convict’s turn to grow pale,
for the word smote on his ear with the stag-
gering force of a fearful accusation. The
man began to feel that, in his eagerness to
keep the boy from turning him over to the
police, he had allowed his lips to utter alto-
gether toomuch. _

Not for a moment did the lad’s eyes leave
the face of Buck Prindle, and they seemed
to pierce the man through and through with
their burning intensity. The miner began
to understand the resistless force of this
boy’s nature and will-power, seeing he had
given him a clew that would be followed up
until the whole black truth became known.

“Tg. that yar right?’ demanded Bart,
fiercely. “Speak up and tell what you
know !”

“Seems to me you're crowdin’ the mourn-
ers,” rather feebly returned Prindle.

“Speak!” commanded the lad. ‘You
can’t turn tail and go back over the trail
now. It’s too late.” ;

“I don’t want to go back on anything ;
but I didn’t say your dad was—was mur-
dered,”

You might as well; your words meant
that. Look hyar, I’m bound to have the
whole of it now, Mr. Prindle, and you may
as well tell me just what you know. If you

”»

_ ean prove what you've said——” —

 

 

“What ?”

“Wa-al, I’ll see that you are paid for it as
you ought to be. That's squar’.”

It might be square, but the words struck
Buck with a meaning the boy had not in-
tended they should convey. If he received
what he merited, even a full confession
might not clear him from the grasp of the
law.

The lad saw Prindle was hesitating, and
he began to fear the man would go back on
what he had already said ; yet he knew not
just how to wring a further confession from
his lips. His hand went around to his hip
with an unconscious movement, but the
holsters were empty, so his fingers did not
close on the butt of a ready weapon.

The miner saw the movement, and it
aroused his resentment.

‘Would you pull a gun on me?” heasked,
hotly. ‘I can be led, but hanged if I’ll be
drove !”

“Take your choice—talk, or I call the
police !” resolutely returned the boy from
the West. ‘‘It’s plain you know something
T have a right to hear.”

“I’m glad you think so, kid,” half sneered
Prindle, seeking to regain his composure.
““Mebbe you'll make a trade with me now,
eh ?”

“What kind of a trade ?”’

‘You know what I want.”

“What ?”

“A half interest in the mine.”

Bart pressed his lips together, remaining
silent for some seconds. Finally, he said:

“Do you reckon I'll make a trade of any
kind with such a crooked galoot as you have
acknowledged yourself to be ?”

“You'll have to if you get anything further
out of me, young feller.”

‘‘And if I should be fool enough, how do;

I know this yar yarn amounts to anything?
You said you could give me a grip on
Stark.”

‘«That’s what I meant.”

‘What kind of a grip -what did he have
to do with my father’s death ?”

“A good deal.”

“But what?”

‘Tf I told ye, you'd know,” replied
Prindle, with a leer. “I an’'t that big a
fool. If you're ready to make a bargain,
maybe I'll talk.”

The lad had no intention of entering into
such a contract with this self-confessed
crook and convict, and he considered just
how he could force the miner to tell the
truth concerning Norman Stone’s death.

That he had struck a trail which might
lead to astonishing and momentous results
he scarcely had a doubt. There had always
seemed something singular and inexplicable
abcut the manner of his father’s death, and
now it seemed this man eould clear away
the clouds, if he were inclined to do so.

“Look hyar,” Bart finally said, ‘I'll tell
you what I'll do. If you——”

At this moment he was interrupted by a
terrible uproar in the front of the restaur-
ant. Loud words were uttered, a table was
upset, amid a crash of breaking crockery,
and then two of the waiters were seen
vigorously mauling each other.

Naturally, the boy from the West turned
to see what all the racket was about, and,
when the combatants were parted, he sud-
denly bethought himself of the necessity ot
keeping his eyes on Buck Prindle.

He wheeled around quickly, to make the
astonishing discovery that the ex-convict
had disappeared !

CHAPTER XI.
THE CAST FOR LIFE.
ONE!”

For an instant, Bart was almost
paralyzed with amazement, but he
swiftly recovered.

“Didn’t go out front, so
gone—this way !” .

With one bound, he dashed behind a
screen and saw a door that led to the room
where the cooking was done. Into .this
room he darted, to find himself face to face
with a German cook, who was dressed in
rather soiled white outer garments.

“A man came in hyar!” cried the lad.
“Running like a hawse with a burr under
its saddle! Which way’d he go?”

“Out dot door,” calmly replied the cook,

ointing to an open door that led into a

ack alley.

Through the doorway leaped Bart, his
eyes wide open for a glimpse of the man he
was after ; but he was not rewarded by the
sight of the fleeing thief. .

Buck Prindle had not let the grass grow
under his feet, well knowing the lad would
be hot after him in a very few seconds.

Along the alley ran Bart, looking to the
a and left at the doorways, trying to de-
cide which course the miner would be most

he must have

4

 

liable to choose. Through to the point
where the alley came out on the main
street he rushed, but he might have spared
himself the trouble, for it was unavailing.

“Wa-al,” muttered Bart, in thorough dis-
gust, as he slowly retraced his footsteps,
still looking searchingly at the doorways,
but seeing no one who could give him any
information, ‘‘that thar’s the biggest fool
trick I ever did! Slow! 1 reckon Mr.
Walter St. Omer Stark is just naturally cor-
rect, and no mistake! I’m too slow bya
heap sight to get out of the way for a snail
that’s in a hurry !”

Never in his life had he felt more crest-
fallen than he did at that moment. After
practically capturing the man who stole the
stock, he had allowed the crook to slip

| through his fingers and get away.

As he made his way back to the restaur-
ant, he condemned himself roundly and in
the most scathing language, feeling he was
deserving of his own scorn.

As he entered the cook-room, the German
asked him if he overtook the man, but he
simply shook his head, walking swiftly into
the dining-room, where he found a waiter
looking around for him. He paid his check
at the cashier’s desk, leaving the place im-
mediately.

For hours after this the boy from the
West wandered about the streets, his eyes
searching the face of every man he met,
hoping against hope that some fortunate
accident might bring him upon Buck Prin-
dle once more.

He took no note of the flight of time or
whither his footsteps led him, his mind
being entirely engrossed by a conflicting
tumult of thoughts, none of which were
pleasant.

He had failed to recover the stock, even
after being face to face with the acknowl-
edged thief, but the man had told him some
things of a startling and astonishing nature,
and awakened, within his breast the belief
that his unfortunate father had been dealt
with fonlly.

Tf this were true, he would have another
mission in the East, for it would be his
duty to know no rest until the man or men
who had brought about the tragedy in the
mine were properly punished.

Realizing he was cdnfronted by a mighty
problem, his face grew very stern and hard
for that of a boy, and the light of a great
resolution glowed in his usually drowsy
eyes.

“If Oyrus Stark had anything to do with
father’s death, as well as having afterward
swindled mother out of what was justly hers
—wa-al, I’ll never rest till he is a poor man
and has been brought to the round-up bar
of justice. I may be no more’n a boy, and
a Kansas cow-puncher at that, but I'll find
a way of getting squar’, or I’m not the son
of my father, none whatever.”

He said this to himself ina cold and quiet

way, but it was as good as a registered re-

solve, !

He was on South Fifth avenue, with the
elevated trains rattling and roaring on the
trestle above his head, when he gave a sud-
den start of surprise, uttering a low ex-
clamation, having discerned on the oppo-
site side of the street two persons whom he
knew. ;

They were Ned Steinway and Walter
Stark.

‘The young man and the boy were talking
together earnestly, and, as Bart watched
them, they suddenly turned and descended
some steps, disappearing into a dark base-
ment.

‘Wonder what’s down thar?” muttered
the lad, as he crossed the street.

He saw a man who seemed to be following
Steinway and Walter. ‘This man hesitated
a moment, and then also went down the
stairs, pushed open a door and disappeared.

Bart was inclined to be venturesome, and
it did not take him long to make up his
mind how he would act.

“Hyar goes!” he said, resolutely, as he
boldly descended the stairs and thrust open
the door.

The moment it closed behind him, he
found himself in a low, dark passage, at the
farthest end of which there was another
door. At one side of this door was an open
‘peep-hole,” but, as no one was peering
out, the young cowboy promptly a vanced
and tried. the door, beyond which he could
hear a loud voice distinctly calling off some-

ng.

Not a little to his surprise, the door
opened promptly to his touch. The mo-
ment it did so, he saw along, narrow, smoky
room, that vas filled with mem who seemed
silent and breathless, listening to the click-
ing of some instrument and the voice of a
big red-faced rough on a stand. _

“At the first quarter—Lawrence in the
lead, the others bunched ; at the half, Law-
rence by a length, Fleetwood second, Belle

 

Adams third; third quarter, Fleetwood
ahead, Rob Roy second, Belle Adams thir,
Lawrence off his feet; in the stretch, Flee-
wood ahead, Rob Roy gaining, Nemo third.”

The suspense seemed intense, and th:
great throng of men scarcely appeared tq
breathe, as they listened for the result.

‘Rob Roy by a head, Fleetwood second,
Nemo third ——”

If the man uttered any further announce-
ment it was drowned by the cries of excite-
ment from the throng; but a sudden and
fierce thumping silenced them. A man with
a heavy black mustache shot up on the
stand, literally snarling :

‘“‘Youse blokes want ter let up on dat!
See? I’m tryin’ ter run dis place on der
dead q. t. Dat racket’ll bring der cops
down on me, an’ I'll be pinched. If yer
don’t let up on it, ll closeme shop. See?”

Bart realized he was in a private pool-
room, where men assembled to gamble by
wagering money on horse races run in dif-
ferent parts of the country, and he had just
listened to the result of a particularly excit-
ing race.

Unfortunately for his curiosity, he was
given little time to look around, for, at this
moment, he heard a familiar voice saying,
in a tone of the greatest disgust :

“That's all your tips amount to of late,
Steinway! I’ve dropped a clean five hun-
dred on Lawrence! Come, let’s get out.”

And then, of a sudden, he found himself
face to face with Steinway and Walter
Stark. As they saw Bart, the two started
back, astonished, Steinway exclaiming :

“Great Scott! He's been following us,
Walt !”

“That’s what !” broke from the lips of the
millionaire’s son, as he immediately re-
gained his composure. “I'll fix him this

time !”
Then he shouted :
“Hey! hey! Spotter—spotter here !”

The cry raised a tumult, the gamblers
surging excitedly and angrily toward the
door, near which the trio were.

‘Where is he ?” demanded several voices.
“We'll do him up !” j

“There he is !” declared Walter, pointing
straight at Bart. ‘‘He’s a boy hired by the
police to pipe off the place.” 4

Bart boldly faced the excited mob,
although he realized the false accusation of
his enemy had placed him in a dangerous
position, for these gamblers were men easily.
wrought to acts of violence.

Suddenly a man stepped from the crowd
and placed a hand on the young Westerner’s
arm, facing the sports, and saying quietly :

“Gentlemen, the charge is false. This
boy is a stranger in the city and from the
West, as you can see by his attire. I give
you my word he does not stand in with the
police, andis not here for the purpose of
causing trouble. Tam going out immedi-
ately, and he will accompany me.”

The moment the speaker appeared, Walter
Stark gave a gasp of dismay and tried to
slink out of sight. In this he was not very
successful, for the searching eyes of the
gentleman followed him half-scornfully.

“Come.”

The word was spoken in Bart’s ear, and
then he felt his unknown friend conducting
him through the door and along the passage
to the street, which was reached by ascend-
ing the flight of stairs.

The boy discovered his benefactor was
the man he had seen follow Steinway and
Walter in the pool-room.

As soon as the street was reached, the
stranger said :

“T got you out of a very bad scrape, my
boy, for those men would have been sure
to do you injury.” ,

‘J reckon you're giving me a sure trail,
mister,” agreed the lad. “I thank you.”

«“That’s all right,” smiled the man, as he
walked toward a cab that seemed waiting
for him at the curb. “I had a purpose in

oing in there, and I presume you did also.
This is the second time I have been able to
get you out of a bad fix.” |

With those words, and no more, he stepped
into the cab and was driven swiftly away,
without giving the bewildered boy time to
utter anything further. A

.

“The second time,” muttered Bart, as he |

walked slowly along the street. ‘What'd
he mean? Iknow! It must be that thar
man’s the friend the judge said got me off
when Steinway had me arrested. And I
don’t even know his name !” ;
Thinking of this, he wandered on and on,
passing Union Square and finally coming to
a little park that was all fenced about with

a high iron railing. Near this park were

some stables, and out of one of these a man
suddenly dashed, hatless and coatless, wildly
crying : f

8 aie
“Look out! He’s broke out of the cage!

Run-—run for your lives!” :

Several people who were passing paused " |

ee ee a io pee oe

 
 

a

{ “|

GOOD NEWS.

3483

 

nd looked at the man, as if they considered
im deranged.

But in another momenta terrible roar

fame from the stable, and out of the door
shot the form of a huge beast—an enraged
oanther !
' It seemed that two bounds carried the
creature across the street, and then it
crouched low to the ground, within ten feet
of a bright-looking, tastily-dressed girl,
lashing its tail and preparing to leap upon
her.

So great was the girl’s horror that she ap-
péared turned to stone, standing still in her
tracks. It seemed that nothing could save
her, for all the spectators were motionless
with terror and dismay.

No, not all of them! The boy from the
West was the only one who retained his
presence of mind, or made a move to save
the girl.

Quickly detaching the lariat from his side,
he set it whirling about his head, ran for-
ward a few steps with the lightness of a cat,
and made the cast for life!

(TO BE CONTINUED. )

 

[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.,}

The Pluck of a Pilot;

 

R,

PERILS OF THE GREAT LAKES,
BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,

Author of “Lieut. Carey's Luck,” ‘*Midsh ipman
Merrill,” ‘Won at West Point,” ete.

 

. (“THE PLUCK OF A PILOT’? was commenced in
No, 211. Back numbers can be obtained of all
News Agents. ]

OHAPTER XXII.
THE FLASH OF LIGHTNING.

HORTLY after passing Sarhia, the
yacht Dragon steamed into the spark-
ling waters of Lake Huron, and a
course was set by Randy to the north-

——

A

ward,

The young pilot and his chum were at
their accustomed stations near the wheel.
The day, which had opened with a bright
sun and clear sky, now became gloomy and
overcast.

‘“‘As old Dick would say,” remarked our
hero, “we are liable to have a spell of
weather before long.”

“If it blows, I hope it will come from
astern,” replied Ben. ‘We don’t want any
delay now.”

“Right you are, old boy. I am all impa-
tience to reach Snake Island and commence
the search for father. That word comes
strange to me, Ben, but, oh, how thankful I
am that I have the right to use it!”

“I don’t suppose you have any love for
the men who are keeping him a prisoner ?”
said his companion, dryly.

“Love? Well, just wait untilI get on
their trail. Ifthere is any justice upon this
earth they'll feel the weight of it.”

‘T*wonder what the secret mentioned by
Moran can be?” asked Ben, picking up a
glass and glancing astern.

Randy gave the wheel a half turn, and re-
plied:

‘T haven't the slightest idea, chum, but
it must he something of the greatest im-
ortance or a man like Cudlipp wouldn't
reak the law so boldly. Why, the penalty
for abducting and forcibly detaining a per-
son must render one liable to a long term

-of imprisonment.”

“If the ship-owner is the guilty person,
there must be a question of money in it.

' He has the reputation of being a very mean

man where a dollar is concerned,” re-
sponded Ben; then he suddenly added:

“There is that very same tug hanging to
our heels yet, Randy. She left Port Huron
directly after we had passed, and is follow-
vee our wake still.”

he young pilot took the spy-glass, and

examined the craft indicated by his com-
panion. \

It was not more than a mile distant, and
seemed to be under the same speed as the
Dragon, Not a man was visible on her
deck, and only one person could be seen in

_ the pilot-house.

“I guess it’s only some tug going to one
he upper ports for a tow,” said Randy,

of
carelessly, closing the glass. “She hap-

pened to leave at about the same time as

ourselves, and if she can travel as fast as

the Dragon, we are liable to have her com-
_ pany to the Straits.”

If Randy had been able to see the interior

_ of the tug’s cabin, he would not have dis-
missed the subject so indifferently.

Seated at a table therein was an acquaint-
ance of the reader, by name Morris Moran ;
and scattered about the little apartment
were ten or twelve men, looking strangely
out of place in an ordinary merchant craft.

To one suddenly appearing at the door,
the scene would have reminded him of a
war-vessel in expectation of immediate
action. Each of the personages wore a re-
volver strapped in a conspicuous place, and
in one corner of the cabin leaned several
Winchester rifles.

The faces of the occupants were not such
as a peaceful man would care to meet in a
lonely road. An air of reckless daring and
low cunning marked them as those gener-
ally classed as thugs by police authorities.

Their evident chief, the eastwhile man-
ager of Cudlipp’s ship-building establish-
ment, seemed moody and ill at ease. Ever
and anon he would step impatiently to one
of the little windows and glance ahead at
the yacht, then resume his seat with a mut-
tered imprecation.

Presently a man wearing the uniform of
a lake captain entered the cabin.

“It’s blowing up agale, sir,” he remarked,
addressing Moran. ‘If this weather keeps
on we'll have a regular rouser. Hadn't you
better settle the matter at once?”

“Curses on the weather !” replied Morris
Moran, arising from his seat. ‘‘Let it blow
and be hanged! I don’t.intend to tackle
the yacht until we get off the Island of
Grand Manitoulin if it blowsacyzlone. I
have been balked of my purpose once be-
cause of not taking necessary precautions,
and I won't do it again. No; steam ahead
until I give the word.”

The captain shrugged his shoulders.

“All right, you are the boss; but if the
weather gets too severe, I'll be compelled to
run under the lee of some point of land for
shelter.”

As he spoke, the tug gave a lurch to port,
and before Moran could grasp the station-
ary table, hé was hurled against the bulk-
head.

He appeared slightly frightened, but re-
sumed his seat without a word. Several of
the other occupants of the cabin lost their
general air of bravado, and acted as if the
blessed solidity of the land would just then
be more to their taste.

However, nothing was said. The tug
plunged on through the increasing seas,
maintaining an equal distance from the
yacht. The day waned, and still the pur-
suit was kept up, and when the darker
shades of night fell, Moran still sat at the
table, morose and imperturbable.

nthe meantime Randy had placed the
Dragon in shape to meet the storm. Extra
lashings had been thrown around the small
boats swinging at the davits, the cabin
ports closed and barred, and everything
movable about the deck secured.

During the afternoon the yacht had

steamed steadily toward the upper end of:

‘the lake despite the growing gale.

From his post in the pilot-house, Randy
watched the waves sweep in curling rollers
from the east, and he easily noticed that
with every passing hour, their force and
height increased.

“YT will hold on as long as possible,” he
remarked to Ben, ‘but if the wind becomes
any stronger, we'll have to heave to in the
lee of the eastern shore.” 3

“That fellow back there evidently intends
to keep moving as long as we do,” replied
young Beach, indicating the tug with a jerk
of his thumb.

Randy glanced soberly at, his companion
and answered:

“Do you know, it struck me awhile back
that there might be something in this mat-
ter?’’ ° :

‘How do you mean ?” 4

“Why, what would prevent Moran or some
other of my mysterious enemies from char-
tering a tug for the purpose of following me
out on the lake ?” Ping

“By Jove! that is a fact.”

“It is certainly plausible. I seem to be
in great demand just now, and any one
desperate enough to kidnap me in a crowded
city like Detroit, would certainly not hesi-
tate to attempt the same game out here.”’

This phase of the question caused Ben to
take a renewed interest in the tug, and he
carefully examined her through a powerful
glass. :

The growing darkness hastened by the
overcast sky, had almost rendered the craft
invisible, but she was still there lurching
along under the impetus of her powerful
engines.

‘“T am going to try a plan,” remarked the
young pilot suddenly. ‘“J’ll change the
cotirse and head for the lower or southern

oint of Grand Manitoulin Island. If they
ollow us, it will show that something is
u ” :

a

 

Giving the wheel a turn, Randy caused

 

the Dragon to swing a couple of points to
starboard, and then held the yacht steadily
on the new course.

Ben, watching at
presently called out:

“By George ! they are after us, chum.”

‘Did they shift their course?’ Randy
asked, eagerly.

‘Yes, they are coming dead for us. Ah!
there goes a rocket! What on earth do they
mean ?”

Giving the steering-wheel to the mate,
Randy hastened out on deck. Grasping a
stay to prevent himself from being thrown
over the side, he peered through the gloom
astern.

As he did s) a bright streak shot through
the air and a parti-colored rocket exploded
in the heavens. ;

‘Red and green, eh?” muttered the
young pilot. ‘That means an appeal for
aid. What can be the matter, I wonder? or
is it only a scheme ?”

It was now too dark to see the tug. but a
twinkling tossing light indicated its posi-
tion. To Randy it seemed as if the distance
between the two craft had been lessened.

“That don’t look asif they are in danger,”
he said to Ben, who had appeared at the
pilot-house window. ‘If we could only see
them plainly we might tell if they
need —— ”’

He was interrupted by a vivid flash of
lightning, which cast the bright glare of
daylight upon the scene.

Ben gave a cry of amazement.

“Jumping ginger! he’s aboard!”
shouted.

“Who? what do you mean?”

‘Why, that double-dyed scoundrel, Morris
Moran,” replied young Beach. “I was look-
ing astern when that lightning came, and
saw old Cudlipp’s manager standing near
the pilot-house !”

the rear window,

he

————_

CHAPTER XXIII.

DANGEROUS PILOTING.

KAS RE you positive?” asked Randy,

\
\

eagerly.
“Never more so in my life. I
would know that fellow ten miles

 

away.
noticed a crowd of men in the _pilot-
house.”

‘Well, that settles it. They are going to
try another abduction scheme, but we will
fool them, chum.”

Randy relieved the mate at the wheel and
ordered him to extinguish all lights. He
also told Ben to sée that covers were placed
on the fire-room hatch to\keep the glare
of the fires from showing.

“We must now be about twenty-five
miles from Grand Manitoulin Island,” he
explained to Ben, when that lad had re-
turned from his errand. ‘It will take us at
least two hours in this kind of weather to
make it, and by that time this gale ought to
show signs of abating.”

“Tf it don’t grow worse,” interposed Ben,
sagely. :

“Yes, if it don’t become worse, but I
hardly believe it will do that. Now, if
Moran can manage to follow us, I'll try to
give him the slip in a narrow strait between
two islands in Georgian Bay. One of them,
called Lonely Island, has rocky reefs along
one side, and if an inexperienced man
should attempt to approach the passage,
especially at night and in a gale, he’d find
himself in a fair way to cruise taward the
bottom.”

“You know the place all right ?”

“Tike a book. Old Dick showed me the
location of the reefs three years ago, and I
have run the passage several times since
then.”

“There goes another rocket.”

‘He might as well save them,” replied
Randy, grimly.

The tug still displayed a light, and every

now and then a signal rocket would soar |‘

aloft and explode over the yacht.

Making his way aft to the engine-room,
Randy called down to Fulton to give the
engines every pound of steam they could
carry.

The taciturn engineer simply nodded his
head, and opened the valve a trifle wider.

Under the extra power the Dragon plunged
through the waves at an increased speed.
This soon began to tell. The light astern
became more faint, and finally faded from

sight.

“We are doing splendid,” exclaimed
Randy. ‘‘Atthis rate we'll soon sight the
island. If we should succeed in entirely

shaking Moran, I'll skirt Grand Manitoulin
and come out near Cockburn Island. Then
we'll make tracks for Lake Michigan.”

bean old Cudlipp,” added Ben, shaking
his fist.

creas van apy aeny my A as AR aa EPR, TO TREE OR

It was he right enough, and I also |

sors WNBA hPa OS ERE SABI ea

“Yes, and old: Cudlipp—the confounded
villain.”

During the following hour the yacht con-
| tinued on her course toward the north-east.
The gale still raged with unabated severity,
and the seas reared their crested heads in
long stretches of foamy waves.

The Dragon was a stanch seaworthy craft,
and although she pitched and rolled toa
sharp degree, yet but little water found its
way over the bulwarks.

Ben had taken his station in the after
companion-hatch, and, armed with a pow-
erful glass, he maintained a strict lookout for
the pursuing tug.

The young pilot had relieved the mate at
the wheel, for they were now approaching a
very dangerous locality, and one which
would task all of his skill.

Presently Ben hurried into the pilot-
house with the startling announcement that
he had just seen the twinkle of a light a
short distance astern.

‘It’s not more than a half-mile,’ he added,
breathlessly. ‘‘And I'll bet it is that con-
founded tug. Great Scott! but she must be
| a fast craft.”
| Randy set his teeth and anxiously scanned
| the stretch of water ahead.
| ‘We are almost there,” he replied. ‘TI
|saw a dark blotch a moment ago that can

only be land. So they are still with us, eh?

Well, we'll see if the Lonely Island channel
}ean’t shut them out. Go back and watch
| them, Ben. and let me know if they draw
| any closer.”

After young Beach had gone, Randy de-
voted his whole attention to his duties as
pilot. The Dragon was equipped with a

| steam steering-gear, and the slightest touch
/upon the small brass wheel would set the
| machinery working the rudder in motion.

This was a great. improvement over the
old system which required physical force
to control the rudder.

An electric alarm also connected the pilot-
honse with the engine-room, and our hero
well knew that Fulton—faithful and compe-
tent man—was at his station ready for
orders

Presently Randy sighted land off the star-
board bow. It loomed vague and shapeless
' through the mist, but the young pilot knew
| that it was Lonely Island.

A faint rumble of breakers came from
ahead—a sound that always sends a thrill .
to the heart of a sailor—and barely visible
to the silent watcher in the Dragon's pilot-
house was a thin line of white, skirting the
crest of the water. i

Now came the trial of skill.

Sending Fulton a cautionary signal, Randy
gripped the wheel, and, with a slight turn
first to one side and then the other, he
guided the yacht on her course in the midst
of the brawling sea.

It was perilous work this—piloting a craft
through a rocky passage in the teeth of the
storm, but our hero never faltered.

He knew of dangers astern, and that a
remorseless villain was in pursuit of him,
and he gritted his teeth in a determination
to elude Moran or go to the bottom with the
yacht. ; ;
/ The passage was about three miles in
length, but only a quarter of the distance
was lined with rocks, the balance being
open and of greater width.

When the third of a mile had been cov-
ered, Ben entered the pilot-house and at-
tempted to speak, but Randy bade him hold
his tongue, in a stern voice.

Young Beach did not object, as he saw
that his friend had little time for words.

Presently the Dragon slipped past the
last cluster of rocks, and into smooth water.
The dangerous passage had been made.

Randy heaved a deep sigh of relief. The
perspiration was rolling from his face in
great beads, and his right arm—the arm
that had worked so cunningly—fell almost
helpless at his side.

‘Now what have you to say?” he asked,
turning to Ben.

“They were right at our heels when we
struck the passage, then their light disap-
peared. I don’t know whether they are
still following us or not.” ;

\ “J hardly think they will try it, but we'll
keep right on and carry out the planI |
mentioned before.”

“Steam around the upper part of Grand
Manitoulin, eh ?”

“Yes, and into Lake Huron once more.
I won't be sorry when we arrive in safe
water, as I am nearly dead for sleep. If we
succeed in throwing Moran off the scent
we'll snatch a few hours of slumber in
preparation for to-morrow’s work.”

‘‘By the way, Randy, do you intend to
beard old Cudlipp in his den, and boldly
accuse him of holding your father a pris-
oner?” “

“No, chum ; that won’t do. I know per- .
fectly well that he could defy me and laugh

 

 

$

i

+

 

 
 
 
 

  

_ Before Randy could reply, a loud hai!
~ eame from the tug, which had now arrived
- within a distance of two hundred yards

biog

be heard on board the tug, Randy told him
to hasten back

we'll find him waiting for us at the other

_ Randy returned to the wheel.

- ness, asking:

3484

at my accusations. What would the word
of an unknown boy be against that of a ship-
builder and a wealthy magnate. I haven't |
settled upon a plan yet, but we will prob- |
ably land on Snake Island, and institute a |
search ourselves.”

‘And if old Cudlipp is there?”

‘‘All the worse for him,” replied Randy,
grimly.

During the conversation, the yacht had |
been steaming at an increased speed
through the latter half of the passage.

The young pilot was still at the wheel,
but with the intention of taking a short
rest, he asked Ben to call the mate.

Opening the pilot-house door, Ben was
just in the act of stepping out on the deck |
when he saw “a light suddenly come into
view around the shadowy end of Lonely
Island.

Uttering a ery of consternation, he re-
entered the pilot-house, and called our
hero’s attention to the fact.

As Randy glanced in the- direction
indicated, a rocket shot into the heavens
and burst into a shower of red and green
stars.

It was the tug!

|
|
|

CHAPTER XXIV.

AGROUND.

 
  
 

THHE feeling of bitter disappointment

2 atthe failure of his efforts to elude |
b, the pursuing tug did not prevent
-~" Randy from acting quickly.

Springing to the electric signal apparatus,
he notified Fulton to stop the engines. At
the same time he gave the steering-wheel a
sharp turn, and the impetus of the yacht
caused it to whirl around until its bow was
pointing toward the passage again.

“Confound it! how the duse did they
manage to travel around the island so rap-
idly?” cried Ben.

from the Dragon.

“Yacht ahoy !” shouted the voice.

“What do you want?’ answered the
young pilot. ‘

“What craft is that !”

“The yacht Dragon, of Keelton, Wis-
consin.”

“Stand by; weare going to board you,”
came the cool aninonmoenent

‘J don’t think so,” muttered Randy to
Ben, and then he added aloud:

“Haven't time to stop. Am in a hurry to
make our destination.”

“Tf you start that yacht you will do so at
your peril!” shouted the first speaker,
threateningly. ‘‘We are custom officers, |
and intend searching you for smuggled

goods.”
~ Our-hero gave a low whistle of surprise.

“That's a first-class ruse,” he said to his
companion. “Now, if you hadn't seen
Morris Moran on the tug, we would have
been nicely trapped.” i

“Tt was certainly a providential flash of
lightning. But what do you intend doing?’

“Run the passage again,” replied Randy,

imly. “I'll put the Dragon on the reef

fore I surrender.” ‘

“That's the talk, chum. Iam with you to
the last gasp.” ;

“We are in a pretty bad pickle,” con-

tinued the young pilot. <‘“That tug is much
faster than the yacht, and the captain knows
how to handle her.”

“But he is evidently afraid of this chan-

nel,” spoke up Ben, gayly.

“Yes, but he can get around

we can make the passage.

as quickly as
I am certain

end.”

“There is nothing else to do that I can
see. If we stop here Moran will board us.”

“Yes, and there they come now.”

The tug had started up again, and was
ee nearer.

‘Run down to the engine-room and tell
Fulton-to give her full steam when I sig-
nal,” whispered Randy. ‘Explain to him
that we are in a bad box and only the quick-
est action will save us.” z
- Ben darted away on his errand, and

Suddenly a voice came through the dark-
“Well, are you going to permit us to
board without et oe he

“We are not smugglers,” replied our hero,
temporising. © hae} ae A
That isto be found out. -I advise yo
to submit, as we are well armed.” | .
At that moment Ben returned with the

_ intelligence that Fulton was ready for orders.

_ Knowing that the engine-room bell could

| quired.

GoonD

The lad made rapid time, and before
many seconds had elapsed the hull of the
Dragon commenced to tremble under the
impetus of the powerful engines.

“T suppose they will shoot, but it can’t be
helped,” muttered Randy, peering ahead.
It was not long before those on the tug
ascertained that the yacht was moving.

A ery of rage came from the pursuers,
and then several voices cried simultane-
ously:

“Stop, or we'll fire!”

Randy paid no heed to the threat, but
kept his eyes upon the line of white water
marking the reefs. He set his teeth with
determination, and moved the little brass
wheel from side to side as the necessity re-

A moment later the sharp report of a
rifle rang out and a bullet sped through the
rear windows of the pilot-house.

Then came a whole volley, zipping past
his ears like a swarm of angry hornets. The
side door opened and Ben rushed in, bent
almost double in his efforts to escape the
rain of projectiles.

“Whew! this is war with a vengeance,”
he exclaimed.

“Keep down out of range, chum,” cau-
tioned Randy. ‘If they don’t follow us we
will soon be out of their reach.”

In his heart the young pilot wished that
his pursuers would chase them part of the
way down the channel at least, as it would
naturally take longer for the tug to skirt the
island in that case.

Ben, who was watching astern, suddenly
called out that the tug had stopped.

‘‘Ah! they are backing now,” he added, a
moment later. ‘They are going to try their
former plan. It’s evident her captain hasn’t
any liking for this channel.”

“If we only had sea room I’d double on
them,” replied Randy. ‘But this place is
too narrow. The risk would be too great.”
Nothing more was said, as the Dragon
had reached the dangerous part of the pas-
sage.

With his usual skill, Randy carried the
yacht through the intricate and tortuous
waters, and finally again brought the stanch
craft into the main portion of the lake.
Both lads held their breath in anxious
suspense when the point marking the south-
ern end of Lonely Island loomed in sight.
Would they again meet the tug ?

Closer and more closely the Dragon drew
to the open water. A hundred yards, fifty
yards, and then a wild cheer burst from the
throats of both Randy and Ben.

There, a quarter of a mile from the en-
trance of the channel, lay the tug with her
bow resting against the island. She had
run ashore!

“Jumping ginger! how glad I am!”
shouted Ben, dancing around the pilot-
house in an excess of glee. ‘Serves them
right, the blamed villains! I hope they
won't get off for a week.”

‘Hurrah !” cheered Randy, in reply. ‘‘We
are safe from Moran now. Isn't it a lucky
accident? Funny such a thing hap——”

He was suddenly interrupted by a crash-
ing sound, and the Dragon keeled over to
starboard to such a degree that both boys
were thrown against the pilot-house.

_ Uttering a cry of dismay, the young pilot
scrambled to his feet and signaled Fulton
to stop the engines, and then reverse them.

“Heavens! we are aground ourselves !”
he exclaimed. *‘Confound the luck! how
did I get out of the channel ?”

‘Their joy was turned to grief and appre-
hension. The storm, which had abated
somewhat, still swept the lake, causing the
waves to thunder against the adjacent
islands with dangerous force.

Luckily the yacht had run ashore at a
place slightly protected from the full force
of the sea and wind, but it was, neverthe-
less, in a more perilous position than Randy
‘eared to see.

In obedience to the order, Fulton had re-
versed the screw to full speed astern, but as
yet the only effect was a rapid churning of
the water under the overhang.

Just then a rift in the clouded sky allowed
the moon’s rays to shoot down upon the
scene, and instantly a hoarse shout of
triumph came from the stranded tug.»

“The scoundrels have discovered our
situation !” exclaimed our hero, bitterly.

a mob of savages.” ies
_ ‘How the duse did we happen to strike ?”
asked Ben, his long face indicating the dis-
appointment he felt. —
gave the yacht a point too much,” replied
‘Randy. “That shows how much depends
upon a pilot. keeping his eyes where they
belong—dead ahead.”

Cal at

“Now we will have them about our ears like’
“Oh, I was looking at the other craft, and |

to the mate, who was standing

NEWS.

This was for the purpose of lightening the
bow so that the lifting power of the waves
could force the forward part of the keel
from its place on the shoal.

After this had been attended to, Randy
went aft to take soundings, but had hardly
reached the quarter-deck, when a loud cry
of warning came from Ben.

‘Come here—quick !’ exclaimed the lad.
“The men on the tug have lowered a boat
and are pulling in this direction !’’

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
oo a

SAVED BY A MONKEY.

BY ROGER STARBUCK.

- -

HEAOWARD the latter part of February, I
+? left the port of Honolulu, Sandwich
‘\ jslands, homeward bound, in the ship
Winfield, New York.
Five days out, encountering a heavy gale,
we put the vessel under close-reefed top-
sails. ‘The wind being fair, we did not take
in any more sail, although the ship was
buried with every plunge half-way to her
main hatches. Thus we continued on un-
til about midnight, when, a great sea
striking the craft amidships, her fore-top-
mast fell in with a crash, as she rolled to
windward, and down she went on her
beam-ends, wallowing and struggling like a
drowning bull in a caldron of foaming,
hissing waters, that kept pouring over her
like a cataract.
Clinging to the shrouds and to pieces of
rigging, we found it difficult to keep onr
balance, our situation being like that of men
who, caught in a furious torrent, suddenly
grasp the roots and twigs projecting from
some drifting log. For several minutes we
thought the ship would never get up ; in
fact, I don’t think she ever would have
righted but for the second mate—a hardy
young fellow—who, fastening a rope around
his waist, and seizing an ax, crept along the
edge of the weather rail, and with a few
blows cleared the wreck.

Up went the ship’s head with such sud-
denness that every man was thrown from his
feet; then down she went again, with
everything straining and cracking.

‘We'll have to seud,”” said the captain ;
and he then gave orders for furling.

In a short time we were under bare poles;
and I was on the point of descending from
the main topsail yard, where I had been as-
sisting some of the men in stowing the sail,
when I felt something touch my shoulder.

I say something, because the touch was not
like that of a humam hand; in fact, I dis-
covered that it was from the paw of Jocko,
an elderly monkey belonging to my chum,
Tom Carbine, who was at the wheel. Jocko
would often go aloft, both in calm and
stormy weather. He was a very intelligent
monkey—what monkey is not ?—and having
passed a conple of years aboard a whaler
with Carbine, had contracted a habit of
mounting to the foretop-gallant cross-trees,
and there remaining on the watch for a
spout.

The moment he saw one, he would squeal
loud enough to attract attention, while he
pointed with his left paw toward the whale.

Carbine had informed me.that the crea-
ture’s vision was remarkably keen; that he
had reason to believe the animal could see
a league farther than any human being.

“What is it, Jocko?” I now inquired, as
the two little twinkling orbs encountered
mine.

Jocko squealed dolefully, then commenced
to descend the rigging, now and then turn-
ing to see if I followed him.

As soon as we reached the deck, he darted
toward the forecastle.

“No, Jocko,” I said, ‘it is my watch on
deck ; I must not go below.”

The creature uttered a plaintive shriek on
seeing me pause; then sprang toward me,
ae t one of the legs of my pants in its
teeth, and endeavored in this way to force
me to the forecastle. bn

Vainly I endeavored to disengage myself;
the animal held on firmly. ;

One of the men picked up a handspike
and would have struck the monkey if I had
not caught his arm. |

“No,” I said, ‘don’t strike. I now feel
quite certain that Jocko has reason for act-
ing in a way, which is yery unusual with

im.” y lie

So saying, I entered the forecastle.

The monkey had let go its hold of my

ants, and now was leading the way to the

orehold. I obtained a lantern and followed
until we were under the main hatch, when
the creature paused, and glancing toward
me, commenced scratching the lower hateh.
«What is it, Jocko? Do you want me to

   

“one night, and I’m sure I will not be hood-

 

did, I pulled away the crowbar which wi
thrust through a ringbolt, and raised th
hatch.

A thumping and scraping noise noy
caught my ear, and, glancing up into mj
face, the monkey uttered another plaintivé
squeal.

‘Why, Jocko,” I said, ‘‘the noise you

hear is only that of the timbers. What’s if
the matter ?” k,

The creature, however, continued its )
squealing, and finally sprang into the lower f
hold.

' As I did not care to grope my way among
the dirty barrels and casks, I called to
Jocko to come up, having by this time con-
cluded that he had merely persuaded me to
follow him through a “spirit of deviltry,”
peculiar to monkeys.
As he would not come up when I called
him, I closed the hatch over his head in
order to punish him ,for his disobedience, |
and also for the trick which I believed he
had played me. As I retraced my way to
the forecastle, I heard Jocko utter a shriek
which even to this day seems to ring in my
ears,

“None of that, my intelligent friend,” I
muttered, ‘‘you have deceived me enough for

 

winked by you again.” ie

I made my way to the wheel, and reported { j
Jocko’s behavior to his master. {

“Ay, ay!” said Carbine, ‘‘it’s a queer crea-
tur’ that monkey of mine ; a playful.creatur’
sometimes, too ; but I never knowed him Ns :
before to carry a joke as far asyousayhe |

has just done. He an’t much given to
shrieking, either, unless it’s when he’s hurt." f f
Pe ON oF
He was interrupted by the sudden appear- 1 }
ance of the second mate, who was officer of t) ah
the watch. Pe

‘Where is Blook, the Spaniard?” he in-

quired ; “shave any of you seen him lately?
It’s his watch on deck, but I cannot find
him,” "

‘He told me he was too ini’ getup,
when the watch was called,” said Carbine.

‘That's strange,” said the mate. ‘How
happens it, then, that he isn’tin his bunk? © |
There’s a look of shirking about this which —
I don’t like. In fact, I always mistrusted
that Spaniard. Ever sinee the captain |
struck him for refusing to go aloft and furl ~_
the mizzen topgallant sail when he was. ~ ut
ordered, he has acted strangely, and———" 4) oe

A long, shrill, horrible cry of pain, that = {|
seemed to come up from the bottomofthe
ship, pierced our ears ! i ee

“Great guns!” ejaculated the second mate.
“What was that?”

‘Tt wasn’t human!’ cried superstitious
Carbine.

“T differ with you,” said I. ‘It sounded
to me very much like a human ery.” oS

‘“‘And where could it have come from?”
inquired the second mate.

1 could not decide, until there was a
repetition of the cry, lower than before,
when we were all convinced that it came
from the hold.

“Follow me!” cried the second mate,
descending into the steerage.

I did so, and, having procured a lantern,
we were soon close to the lower steerage
hatch, which, to our surprise, we found open,

“This is very strange,” said my <om-
panion, ‘The hatch, an hour ago, was not
only shut, but was firmly secured.”
- So saying, he led the way in the lower
hold; but we had not proceeded twenty
steps when’ I felt something tugging at one
of the legs of my pants, and, half-turning, I
saw Jocko, with a ghastly wound in ‘his
head, from which the blood flowed freely, —
The poor creature, which seemed to have : 3
had great difficulty in dragging itself along _ i
to my feet, looked up into my face, uisarede’ Sb: »
one plaintive squeal, and then fell over upon .
its side, dying. ty ’

“The ery we heard couldn’t have come
from this creature,”’ said the second mate.
“That is an ugly wound in his head,” he
added, ‘and looks as if it had beeninflicted
with some heavy instrument.” f ere

Even as he spoke we beheld a dark form
working its way between casks and barrels
‘toward us. P)
It was soon near enough to enable us to
| recognize the face of Blook, the Spaniard, al- be
though the features were partially covered =
with blood. pata a
- “Ah! what means this; what are youdo =|
ing here?” cried the second mate.

“Help me! help me!” cried the man,
fiercely and piteously at the same time. “I
am blinded. My eyesight has been ruined |
by that cursed monkey.” Ngee

“It was you, then, we heard crying out?”
exclaimed the mate. ir aa

“Yes,” answered the
“but come, help me on deck.

 

 

cae oo

ep pace pee

 

  
   
  
   
     
 
  
   

 

 
 
  

     
     
 

   
   
 
 
  

        
    

  

‘Spaniard, sullenly sa!
Y a a

  
 
 
  

 

 

lift the hatch?” —

 

 

and inform Fulton to start
sheadatfullspeed. 2

   

outside,
carrying everything

‘

e bade him set the men to work
movable to the stern. |

   

o. '
; Lit oey Fhe Poa .

 

Jocko’s manner seeming to imply that he

see a poor fellow suffer this way, will you
Look !” and he pointed toward his eyes.

    
  

     
 

 
 

lentil sa

ite oe stn Sitesi ete nh to
es
= a os ‘ s . ae
2h Te ae Bia vg 0 es
= ? ? — - 7 et 7 , : 4 * Z

 

+. ghelter-wit
_ and solid brick structure. They barricaded

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mands like

 

  

 

  

  
 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
   

   

They presented a horrible sight, the lids
having been badly torn by the monkey’s
claws.

‘‘What’s this?” inquired the second mate,
detecting the end of a suspicious-looking
chisel protruding from the man's jacket-
pocket.

He pulled it forth as he spoke, and found
little wet particles of wood adhering to it.

The Spaniard now trembled from head to
foot.

‘‘Blook !” cried the officer, sternly, ‘‘you
have been trying to scuttle the ship.”

“Ay!” cried the Spaniard, through his
teeth, “and I would have succeeded but for
that cursed animal, which flew at me and
tore my eyes, blinding me so that I could
not see.”

The speaker was evidently partially intox-
icated, which accounted for this frank
avowal.

“The carpenter must be sent to look at
the hold, and see what damage has already
been done,” said the second mate.

Accordingly the carpenter was roused, and
he soon made the necessary examination.
He reported that the ship’s bottom was
about half bored through ; that it was his
opinion that if the Spaniard had been per-
mitted to work a quarter of an hour longer
than he was, the vessel must have gone to
the bottom with all hands!

‘Poor Jocko!” cried the second mate,
turning to me. “You perceive that the
faithful animal was not playing any tricks
when he led you into the hold. He evident-
ly had seen the Spaniard at his villainous
work, and wished to make it known to
you.”

‘He was a very intelligent animal,” said
Carbine, with a deep sigh; ‘‘and it’s a pity,
Starbuck, that you misunderstood him, and
shut him up in the hold. That sealed the
poor creature’s doom. He’s dead now!’

I have but little more to add.

Blook was put ashore at San Carlos, and
confined in the calaboose at that place.

Years afterward I saw him wandering
through the streets, a blind beggar, who

earned his bread by going from door to

 

jag ie vie THE
He -DRUMMER-BOY’S STRATAGEM.
ue ae _ BY MAURICE SULLIVAN.

—— e- ne

WRING! ping! the bullets sounded, as
~ they hailed in a storm of lead against
3 the walls of the old house,

They cracked the crumbling bricks,
broke the tiles on the roof, and flew in
through the windows, destroying window
frames, shutters, furniture, and ceilings,
making clouds of mortar, splinters of wood,
and fragments of glass and earthenware fly
about, whistling and rebounding, hissing
and screaming as if thirsty for human
blood,

The attack -was fierce, but the defense
was stubborn. The garrison of the old
house consisted of about sixty veteran
French soldiers,

They were a detachment from the agey
commanded by General Hoche, who had
been dispatched to the famous western

rovince of La Vendee to put down the

oyalist rebellion which raged there in the
year 1794.
_ They had been sent out to a considerable
distance from the main body of the Repub-
_lican leader’s forces, with orders to occupy
_ alone house which stood on a height over-
looking a wide antant of country.
_ "They had barely reached the building,

'\ when they found themselves attacked by an

overwhelming number of Royalists, who
burst en upon them from a belt of
woodland below, and opened a furious fire.
. The ot troops hastily sought

in the house, which was an old

the doors, rushed to the windows, and vig-
orously returned the shower of bullets

| rained upon them by the assailants,

From time to time a soldier shooting from

_ the window would fall back on the floor.
|. He would be dragged aside, and a comrade

would press forward to take his place.
Wounded men were staggering from room
to room. Several already lay dead or dying.
The enemy’s line was drawing nearer and
, nearer. NBN
_ The captain of the besieged was in the
topmost room of the house, where he
_ directed the defense, launching out his com-
istol-shots. He was tall, thin,
_ and austere-looking, with grizzled hair and
PAR eM Le) Cet a, ae
* His appearance was a singular contrast to
that of a bright-faced young drummer be-
side him, e boy was only fourteen years

 

 

  

dows, an
down the descent.
woods unobserved by the enemy, or would
they catch sight of him? If they did, the
stratagem would hardly succeed, even if
they did not finish the drummer’s career
with a ball from one of their muskets.

spattered an
and there was a corpse; smoke and dust
covered everything. :

‘Keep your posts!
hand !”

raised himself
of triumph.

 

_ old, and this was the first fighting he had

ever seen. It was only a few days since he
had said good-by to his widowed mother in
their little home in the Quartier Latin of
Paris, and proudly marched along the street
with his regiment.

And now he had posted himself beside
the captain, with pale cheeks, but with eyes
glittering with excitement, and not a trace
of fear in his set face. He stood on tip-toe
and peered out of the small upper window,
heedless of the bullets that struck around
him.

He could see the rebels closing in on the
house with triumphant yells that showed
their belief that their prey was well within
their grasp. They were advancing upon the
front and on both sides; the back of the
house looked down a steep incline, where
the ground was so broken and rough that
they did not attack it from that quarter.

The captain’s face, hitherto stern and un-
moved, began to show signs of uneasiness
as he saw the apparent hopelessness of the
position. Was there no way to save the
lives of the brave fellows intrusted to his
command ?

Suddenly, as if a thought had struck him,
he drew back from the window; and laid his
hand somewhat roughly on the young drum-
mer’s shoulder.

The boy looked up, and his glance met
the stern gray eyes of the captain fixed
upon him with a gaze that seemed to pene-
trate his very soul.

“Josef Barra!”

The drummer put his hand to his cap in
a military salute.

‘Josef Barra, have you courage ?”

Josef’s eyes flashed.

‘Yes, my captain !” he said.

The officer led him from the room, and

‘went to a window at the back of the house,

“See, Josef,” he said, quickly but calmly,
as he pointed out of the window, ‘‘take
your drum, and slip out of the back en-
trance of the house ; make your way down
the hill, and into the woods beyond, then
sound the ‘advance’ on your drum as loud
as you can. The enemies will think that
reinforcements are coming up, and you may
save the detachment,”

‘The boy’s eyes flashed more brightly than
ever now, He did not speak, bnt,, buckling
his drnm to his side, he hurried down to
the ground floor. A moment later, with a
final ‘God help you,” the captain had sent
him out by the door at the back of the
house, which was closed and barricaded be-
hind him,

The captain returned to the upper win-
eagerly watched the boy flying
Would he reach the

On and on the boy hurried, concealing

himself as best he could, by taking advan-
tage of the irregularities of the ground.
Breathlessly the captain watched him, all
heedless of the whistling and hissing of the
bullets in the front of the house, the angry
and excited voices of the sergeants and
corporals, the sharp cries of the wounded,
the falling of mortar, the crashing of fur-
niture,

The drummer-boy is far down the slope

now; he has nearly reached the shelter of
the woods.
eye the distance still to be traversed. Two
minutes more, and——

The captain measures with his

One of the sergeants dashed into the

room and told him that the enemy, though
they had not ceased firing, were waving a
white cloth, to show that they demanded
a surrender.

‘Do not answer,” cried the captain, and

he ran hastily down stairs to join his men,

The lower story was full of the wounded,

lying helpless on the floor, or epee
themselves against the walls, whic

were
splashed with blood. Here

‘Courage, men!” called the ° captain.

Help is even now at

A feeble cheer broke out among the brave

defenders, desperate as the case seemed.
The rebels had drawn nearer still.
fierce faces could be seen through the
smoke ; among the noise of firing could be
heard their cries, calling on the besieged to
surrender and threatening massacre. —

Their

The fire of the garrison slackened again,

seer began to show itself upon their
aces.
without defenders, and it was clear that the
house could not be held much longer.

Already more than one window was

Suddenly one of the wounded. men

| obey them ;
brave young drummer.

voices reached the captain’s ears. It came
from a little distance to the left, and the
officer, motioning his men to remain where
they were, stole forward in that direction
to reconnoitre.

before him, in an open glade of the wood,
a sight that thrilled his heart.
Josef, and around him was a group of
rough-looking peasants—stragglers from the
body of rebels who had been driven away
from the house.
they had stumbled upon the boy as he was
making his way back to his comrades, and
they seemed as if they meant to vent upon
aa their rage at the defeat they had suf-
ered.

captain heard one of them say, pointing his
long bayonet at Josef’s body.

live the Republic !”

At the same instant the captain reached the
spot ata bound, and felled the murderer
with a terrible sweep of his saber. He
called loudly to his men, and the tramp of
their feet was heard as they rushed through
the wood. The rebels were again
stricken at the sudden attack, and fled at
their utmost speed.

fallen under the thrust of the Royalist’s
bayonet.

ing fast from a fearful gash in his side, The
captain knelt beside him, powerless to help
the wounded boy, and the tears fell from
his eyes, that had seen a score of battles
unmoved, — ;

va Kgs UA ee eae
e veteran officer took off his cap.

“I am only a captain ; you are a hero.”
from the floor with ashout| eins

 

*,
“They are coming, comrades! I hear’

General Hoche’s drums! You are saved!"

 

_ Kerosene was first used for lighting pur-
poses in 1826. ' ie ere

GOooD NEWS.

And the poor fellow fell back in a swoon.

The captain’s straining ears had caught

the same sound. A drum-beat, loud and
clear, rose from the woods on the enemy’s
flank, It was sounding the advance.

‘Help is near!’ was the cry among the
defenders, and again their sprits rose.
Every man who could stand made for the
windows, and again a hot fire was poured
forth on the rebels.

Signs of disorder were soon visible
among the Royalists. The drum-beat had
puzzled and terrified them. It must mean
that Hoche’s troops were close at hand,
though they had believed him to be miles
away.

The captain saw the cnemy’s doubt and
hesitation, and feared that they might dis-
cover the trick he had played, though none
of his own men had done so.
bold step.

“Open the doors !” was his sharp order.

The barricaded entrances were thrown
wide.

“Charge! The enemy is in confusion,
and help is near !” was the next command.
And the little band of soldiers dashed forth
from the old house with a wild hurrah, and
fell upon the astonished foe with flashing
boyonets and glancing swords.

That ended the Royalists’ hesitation. Be-
wildered and panic-stricken, and believing
that resistance was useless, they fled right
and left, turning in all directions, since
they knew not from which side to expect the
next attack; The handful of Republican
troops swept before them a force four times
as numerous as themselves.

The chase was not kept up very far. The
enemy was soon so scatterey that farther
pursuit was useless, and the victorious sol-
diers returned to the house which they had
so bravely defended, to hold it, according
to their original orders, till the main divis-
ion of the army came up.

The captain now told his men the strata-
gem which Josef Barra, the drummer-boy,
had carried out so successfully.

But where was Josef? He had not re-
turned to the house.. His drum-beat was
no longer to be heard. What had become
of him ? «

The captain’s orders were to hold the po-
sition he occupied, and he was bound to
still he could not allow the boy,
whose courage and skill had saved the de-
tachment, to be lost or taken prisoner with-
out an effort to help him. So strong, in-
deed, were his feelings on this point that
he determined to go himself in quest of the

With half a dozen picked men he de-
scended the hill, following the path taken
by Josef. He reached the wood, but nothing
was to be seen of the boy.

Presently, however, the sound of harsh

He had not gone very far when he saw

There was

In their random flight

“Shout ‘Long live the king,’ boy !” the

‘‘Never!” was the clear reply. “Long

The Royalist thrust savagely at the boy.

panic-
The captain turned to Josef, who had

t was too late! The life-blood was ‘flow.

“Captain,” said Josef, faintly, “do, not

“Josef Barra,” said the rough old soldier,

 

He took a}

|feet above the ground, upon the
| and legs

3485

A REAL HERO.

BY CAPT. L. C. WASHBURN,

VY,

7. N board the ship Luminary we had
& two boys, differing much from each
wit other in character. Walter Brewer,

the captain’s son, was an active fel-
low, but very heedless and rash. We used
| to think that he must resemble that ‘little

Jack,” of the ballad, who climbed to the
| main-truck of ‘‘Old Ironsides.” ‘There was
nothing he loved better than to perform
some dangerous and unnecessary feat.

On the other hand, Arthur Clifford, son
of good Widow Clifford, in the little seaport
where the ship belonged, although no less
active than Walter, was always careful of
his own safety, and took no risks where
duty did not call him. He would not pass
from one mast to another on a stay, as his
companion would sometimes do, but would
take to the shrouds in the regular manner.

Walter often challenged him to do some
perilous thing, and would thonghtlessly ac-
cuse him of cowardice when he refused, as
he invariably did, where there was no nec-
essary end to be accomplished by accepting
the proposed risk.

Yet, whenever the widow’s son did a piece
of work, either on deck or aloft, it was done
thoroughly, which was more than could be
said of Walter’s tasks.

Arthur did not like the imputation of
cowardice, but he told me one day that he
could not see the need of doing foolish
things just to show that he was brave.

I felt sure that he had more true courage
than his reckless young shipmate, though I
little anticipated the surprising manner in
which the fact was to be demonstrated.

We were lying in one of the many harbors
on the west side of Vancouver's Island,
when the captain allowed us an all-day’s run
on shore. aiowee Te

The coast is here very mountainous, so
that we found rocks hundreds of feet high,
with gorges branching off in all directions.

In some places we climbed to such a
height that, although our ship was a long
distance off, she had the appearance of be-_
ing close under our feet,

Presently our attention was, attracted by
the sight of two huge, gray eas that came
wheeling about us with majestic sweeps,
uttering loud cries, like those of the common
fish-hawk.

Some one suggested that they probably
had a nest close at hand, and the two boys
were instantly inspired with a great desire
to find it. k

An eagle’s nest would certainly be a curi-
osity, whether containing eggs or young.

“Oh, you wouldn’t go up to it, Art; you
wouldn’t dare to!” said Walter. ‘You'd be
afraid of the old birds. Just let me get a
sight of it. J’ll show you how to go up to
an eagle’s nest !’” ‘ :

Arthur made some careless reply; laugh-
ing good-naturedly as he did so, and they
both commenced hunting for the eyrie.

For some time we could hear them shout-
ing to each other as pee ‘pursued the
search. They seemed at length to have
separated widely among the cliffs, and for a
while we heard nothing from them.

We now discovered that, instead of only
one couple, there were two pairs of the
eagles, and this seemed to be the reason
that the boys did not keep together. There
might be two nests. f

Supposing that the youngsters would soon
return, we did not pay much attention to
their absence, until startled by what seemed
a cry of distress.
The eagles themselves were screaming,
but their shrill notes could not quite drown
the human voice that appeared to be calling
out in pain or terror.

“Tt is that Walt,” said one of our men,
“He’s got into some trouble—broken some
of his limbs, likely enough—and the old
man will blame us for it, There, hear
that?” aie as
“‘Help—help !” cried the voice. “I’m hurt. |
Come quick, or I shall be killed! Oh, dear,
what shall I do ?”
It was plain that the sufferer could not be
far off; yet, to bring him in sight, we had to
make our way through some very difficult
places, _ ;

When we did get a view of him, the peril

of his position really terrified us.

He was at a height of some three hundred

face of a cliff. - a geet of a See
are ed to be w , While wi

his ia e clung Sere e small

projecting point. = ay

“Oh, oh, oh!” he cried, as he caught
sight of us. ‘Get me out of this place.

 

 

Get me down from here. I can’t move, and — ‘
the eagles will kill me !” vate”

‘a.
a

   
 
 
   
 
   
  
 
  
   
 
 
 
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
  
  
  
 
    
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
  
   
   
  
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
    
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
    
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
     
  
  
   
    

 

 

 

~ the prospect.

 

 

He had good reason to think so, for the |
huge birds were sweeping close to his head,
snapping their fierce beaks, and making a;
noise with their wings, like that of a ship’s |
topsails when she is ‘‘going in stays.” |

“You little scamp!” cried the second |
mate, who was with us. ‘How did you |
get there? What will your father say to us, |
you young villain ?” |

“Qh, oh, oh !” wailed the poor fellow. on
was going up to the eagle’s nest, and I |
slipped and got wedged in this crevice. I|
can’t get out. Come up quick—quick !”

Some thirty or ‘forty feet above him was,
the eagle's nest, sure enough. It seemed |
astonishing that any human creature should
ever have had the recklessness to at-|
tempt such a fool-hardy feat, and still more |
astonishing that he should have been able to |
climb so far.

Upon a further view of the cliff we were
appalled. Who of us could feel like creep-
ing from jag to jag up the side of that
almost perpendicular rock? and how, even |
in case of his being reached, was the_half- |
disabled boy to be got down ?

To make the matter worse, we were
brought to a halt by a wide chasm directly
in front of us, so that to reach the foot of
the precipice it was necessary to seek out
some place for crossing.

While looking for such a spot, we heard
Arthur Clifford calling to his young ship-
mate, and presently saw him going up the
side of the rock, It surprised us to see
how fast he climbed.

We ran to along distance, until it began |
to seem as if we were never to find a place |
to cross, and when we finally did so, Arthur |
had almost accomplished the ascent. |

“Hold on, Walt!” he cried; ‘don’t be!
afraid—I’m coming. Just keep where you
are.” ” |

“Qh, the eagles!” answered Walt. ‘One |
of them has just knocked my cap off! |
Hurry up, Art—oh, come quick !”

Some of the rest of us attempted to|
clamber up, but made wretched work of it, |
for the risk appeared frightful. It was
enough to shake a very stout heart to cling
to a bare rock in the air, where the hold
was so slight and doubtful, and when we
looked up and saw the stair so fearfully
high, there was very little encouragement in

 

“I’ve got him clear !” shouted Arthur down
to us at length, as we were strung along the
face of the cliff, some high and some low ;
“but I wish the eagles would keep away.
Only see! there are four of them now!”

Tt seemed as if a second pair had come to
assist the first, and, emboldened by. their
numbers, the whole became startlingly fe-
rocious.

Seeming to know that the two boys were
attempting to retreat, they pressed the at-
tack with frantic rage. Arthur’s cap shared
the fate of his companion’s, and both lads
got a number of blows.

As Walter, after all, had no broken bones,
he was still quite active, though dreadfully
cowed and frightened. He crouched into,
as small a space as possible, while Arthur,
knowing him to be severely bruised, took
the more exposed position.

Suddenly there was a more than usual
thunder of the sail-like wings. All four of
the birds seemed to swoop down at once ;
their tails were broadened, and their beaks
and talons looked like hooks of steel.

We saw Arthur strike out with his arms,
and heard a terrified yell from Walter.

In another moment our hearts stood still
with horror. Arthur Clifford had gone
completely off the rock, in mid-air, three
hundred feet from the ground. ;

What a spectacle it was! Such a shock
as we then experienced could never be for-
gotten by any of us.

But the next instant, what was our sur-
prise to see that, instead of falling like a/|
stone, he was merely sinking slowly. There
was a prodigious flapping of wings about |
him, and we realized what had happened.
Two of the enormous eagles had fastened
their talons in his stout flannel. shirt, and |
his weight, dragging them down, prevented |
them from getting clear. Probably they |
had both struck him at the same time with |

 

what Tennyson would call their “hooked | A

hands,” and this had caused! him to lose his
balance and fall.

Would their hold continue? Wonld it
not give way and permit him to be dashed
to a shapeless mass ?

“Oh, if they should unhook themselves !”
cried:the second mate.* ‘‘But there--see !
see! He has got them by the legs besides !
Hold on, Arthur! hold on hard!"’ he added,
shouting with all his might.

   
  

  
      
    
 
 
  

  
  

The beating of the broad wings was like
the flapping of windmill arms, and the
screams of tke royal birds cov d have been

heard for miles. Faster and fast
they settled with their load,

. more upon the ground, he staggered up to

‘chase, and the frisky little animal led us on

| find the river; yet our efforts were utterly

'

 

| caught its villainous glance.

that were still free circled around the others,
shrieking as loud as they.

The descent may have oceupied a minute ;
for those huge wings, twelve or fourteen feet
from tip to tip, had immense resisting
power.

Then Arthur struck the earth, and the
magnificent creatures, making a last desper-
ate effort, tore away from him, taking long
strips of his blue shirt in their terrible tal-
ons as they soared screaming aloft.

The brave boy knew better than to make
any effort at detaining them ; and, indeed,
he was already badly wounded by their
claws, and out of breath from his exertions,
although wonderfully cool in mind.

“Where’s Walt?” he asked, ‘‘They haven't
thrown him off, have they?”

And the noble little fellow glanced anx-
iously up at the high rock..

He had saved his companion’s life at the
risk of his own; for Walter, seeing the way
clear, at once recommenced his descent, and
soon got down to where two of us were able
to assist him. His lower limbs were much
injured where they had been wedged in the
crevice, but he could still use’ them. Once

Arthur and seized his hand.

“Tt was you that gaved me,” he said.
“You are the bravest fellow I ever saw. The
eagles would have killed me where I was if
you hadn’t come. Just look at my head and
shoulders! See where they hit and pecked
me!”

“They couldn't quite hold up my ninety-
six pounds,” said Arthur, laughing, “and I
guess they would have let you down too fast
if they had got you off, for you are a little
heavier than I am,”

We were soon on board the ship, where
the boys, after a few days, recovered from
their injuries. And it did one good to see
what hosom friends they became. Walt was
not a bad fellow at‘heart, and his terrible
experience had an excellent effect upon him.

Both he and Arthur are now prominent
shipmasters, but undoubtedly both enter-
tain a vivid recollection of the one great ad-
venture of their boyhood,

~ 0

LOST AMONG THE ALLIGATORS.

o-

 

ANY years ago, I was journeying by

steamboat up one of the many

can bayous or creeks in the southern
part of the State of Louisiana,

In the course of the morning the steam-
boat drew up at a wooding-station to take
in a supply of fuel, and led by curiosity, I
went ashore with a lad about my own age.

Growing tired of watching the negroes
carrying the split wood on board, we yielded
to the temptation to venture a little way
into the forest.

A squirrel crossed our path.

 

We gaye

till we found ourselves out of hearing of the
hissing of the steam and the voices of the
negroes at the wood-pile. —

Suddenly a bell rang; this we knew to be
the signal for the steamer’s departure, and
were horrified to note how faint and far-off
the sound appeared. However, shouting at
the top of our voices, we turned back.

Through brambles and briers, thorns and
thickets, climbing over fallen logs and
splashing through marshy places, we scram-
bled and leaped.

Then we distinctly heard the coughing of
the steam and the dash of the paddle-wheels.
The boat had started! The sounds grew
more indistinct; and our hearts sank as we
heard them rapidly die away in the distance.

We thought it would be an easy thing to

in vain.

After a time, no river appearing, we re-
alized the fact that we were lost!

An hour or two passed, and we became
sensible of the pangs of hunger. We
searched our pockets, and discovered that
one biscuit was our entire stock of provis-
ions. This we divided and gloomily ate.
An incident now occurred which showed
Ot our position had its positive dangers.

llen tree lay before us. j
Upon mounting the log, I espied, coiled
in many folds, with .its rattle erect in the
center, a huge rattlesnake.

Just as I was about to leap down, my eye
Fortunately I
knew enough of serpent-lore to recognize
this topsisaabts enemy, and with a shout
and gesture prevented my companion
climbing the log, ’.

Nor were we a moment too soon.

the log in pursuit.

GOooD NEwWS5.

The
creature had evidently observed us, for, as
we fled, we heard his warning rattle, and
momentarily expected him to spring over

 

 

selves with picking out a tree suitable for
camping purposes.

I helped my companion to mount one,
which was thick and bushy, in the branches
of which he soon lay down.

I stayed below to watch for a last chance.
It seemed a useless thing to do; yet, though
hoarse with shouting, I once more lifted up
my voice.

Was it a fancy that there was a reply?
We could not be mistaken, for both of us
heard a faint, far-off response.

We waited with intense anxiety the ap-
proach of the stranger.

At length a gun-barrel emerged from a
great bank of rushes, followed by a rough,
hunter-looking man.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“We came ashore from the Abeille at the
wooding-station, and have lost our way.”
“Whew !’ he whistled, and rested on his
gun; then scanned us both narrowly, for by
this time my companion had slidden down
from his post among the branches.

“Guess you had better come with me,”
he said; and shouldering his rifle, he
turned, and pushed his way through the
reeds.

Soon we saw through the branches the
glitter of water, and came out upon the
banks of a river, smaller than that up
which we had passed in ‘the steamboat in,
the morning. :

Here, concealed in the rushes, was a canoe,
which he quickly launched, swinging the
head round to where we were standing.
Without speaking, he motioned us to get
into the frail craft, then followed himself,
laying down his gun and taxing up a paddle.
With a few strokes he drove the canoe out
into mid-channel.

Very soon the night fell, and the fireflies
darted among the bushes on the shore. We
now heard the barking of dogs, deep-toned
and long-continued.

Ten minutes more and the canoe was laid
alongside a shelving bank, some five or six
feet high. Our boatman; quickly leaping
ashore, fastened the chain of the canoe toa
stump near the water’s edge, and bade us
disembark.

We followed our protector as best we
could in spite of the growing darkness, till
after traveling a few hundred yards, as far
as one might judge in such a blind journey,
we halted before a dimly-visible log-house.
The man unfastened the door, where-
upon two huge deer-hounds leaped out,
frisking and barking, and, in their canine
fashion, expressing the height of joy upon
the return of their master.

Upon perceiving’ us they showed signs,
lively and unpleasant, of doubt and animos-
ity, till they were roared down by the deep
voice of our conductor,

A match was struck and a pine-knot kin-
dled. Heaping some dry wood upon the
hearth, the hunter speedily had a blazing
fire, whose ruddy glow showed up distinctly
the rough interior of the house.

One of the first acts of our protector was
to unroll a bundle from the corner and
spread upon the floor a buffalo-robe, upon
which he bade me sit.

From the blazing fire he lit a rude lamp,
which he hung from the roof. Then he
produced his iron pot, and sharpening his
knife, with the pot in one hand and _ the
knife in the other, went out into the dark-
ness.

He soon returned with water from the
river in the pot, and in his hand a piece of
deer’s meat,

The pot was set upon the fire; the meat,
cut into pieces and powdered with salt, put
into it, and a handful of meal added, making
a savory compound, which to us hungry
boys seemed a delicious supper.

he serving of the meal was primitive.
There was but one plate in the establish-
ment; this the owner relinquished to his
visitors, after having heaped it with smok-
ing food, himself feeding leisurely from the
pot.
We learned that our’ entertainer was an
Englishman, who, in consequence of liberal
views on poaching matters, had thought it
more prudent to put the broad Atlantic be-
tween himself and his native village.

Here, deep in the backwoods, he lived a
Robinson Crusoe kind of life, miles away
from human habitation, supporting himself
with his gun. : bids

During the course of the evening we had
been conscious of a growing babel of sounds,
which arose on all sides in the great dark
outside world, and which deepened in in-
tensity as the night wore on.

Every now and then a hoarse bellow, as of

been awakened by intolerable agony, came
from the alligators that abounded in the sur-
rounding swamp

some mammoth bull that, slumbering, had |

We had noticed that the door of the hut

 

with an unfastened padlock on the outside.
Inside, its only protection was a wooden
bar, which shot’so smoothly in its grooves
as to suggest that a strong-snouted animul i
could easily nose the door off its hinges.

Upon communicating our fears to our

host, we produced upon his grim visage the

nearest approach to a smile that we had yet

observed.

He seemed entirely at his ease.

He had strange tales, such as that one day

he came home and found an old alligator ;
asleep on his hearth ; how that rattlesnakes
had frequently crept in through the inter- .
stices of the logs; and how that almost every ‘\
evening after dusk, at certain times of the - r
year, wolves prowled around.

Then our protector informed us that we

must be stirring with the dawn. He would

take us in his canoe a distance of ten miles,
whence, by crossing a narrow tongue of

land, we might reach a steamboat landing.

With lively interest we watched his prep-
arations for the night. He tried the wooden

bar placed across the doorway. The logs

were put together on the hearth. He then

bade us wrap ourselves as well as we could

in our buffalo-robe ; put out the lamp, and

then lay full length on the floor, near the
hearth, and was soon fast asleep.

Wearied as I was, I could not sleep. The
external noises grew louder and louder.

The alligators waddled up and down the ac-
clivity upon which the house stood.

Atone time no fewer than four of these

ugly reptiles were prowling around our little
sanctuary. 9
Meantime, our host had fallen into the }
profoundest of slumbers, the audible proofs -

of which had in them some obscure con- | /
solation, for I could not but reason thata ~~ ia
man who could sleep under such circum- me “yy
stances, and sleep so soundly, could not but ,
be assured that there was no real ground
for alarm. " ak
So the event proved. Confused thoughts ,
of rattlesnakes, alligators, wolves, steam- — ae
boats that devoured, and rattlesnakes that lei
coughed and paddled, clouded my brain
until I fell off into an uneasy slumber,
gradually deepening into utter unconscious-
ness.

When we awoke our host was standing in
the open doorway, drying himself with a
strip of canvas, after his matutinal wash in
the river.

He had put a can of water over the fire,
and, bruising some coffee-berries between
two stones, he made us a not unacceptable

 

.*

 

beverage. Biscuits, coffee—without either 7%
sugar or milk—and the considerate relics in f
the iron pot from his last night’s supper, q
made our Lreakfast. i
We were soon on board the canoe, and if '
were rapidly drifting down stream, The hee

distance was quickly accomplished, and con-

nection with civilization rapidly made ; but it: 2

T shall never forget that night spent among {i :

the alligators.
———__-~s_0-—@___——_- >

ROUGH ON THE BOYS.

In a certain academy it was announced | 7
that a new teacher of mathematics was com- {}
ing the next day, and the boys preparedto

initiate him. nie

They went to a narrow lane, up which he i
would probably come, and rigged up a com- .
plicated apparatus to trip him up and - ©°
shower him with flour. ; (|

While thus engaged, a well-dressed, stylish
young man surprised them. He was a
stranger, and they imagined he came from }
another school near by, which impression /
was heightened when he volunteered his
services, and suggested’many improvements
in the “trap.”

When completed, the boys and their new |
friend moved away some distance to await
the result. Two hours passed in uncomfort-
able silence, and then one of the leaders
said :

“I don’t believe he’ll come to-night.” |

“Oh, yes,” said the stranger, pleasantly ;
“the truth is he has come.” i

‘What ?” cried the boys.

“In fact,” continued the young man, ‘I
am Professor C., and I hope our relations
will continue to be agreeable. I am sorry
to have disappointed you by coming by an
earlier train ; but Iam glad, because it has ©
made us acquainted ina very effective way.” —

The boys tried no more tricks on that
professor. .

si acpank al ie Ae aha tee
WHO WAS BLIND ?

“John,” said his master, ‘did you take 4 4
the note to Mr. Jones ?” a | eset

“Yes,” replied the servant, “but I don’t _ } By

 

 

 

}

think he can read it.”
“Why so, John?” (i
“Because he is blind, sir. While Iwurin _

the room, he axed me twice where my hat

  
  
  

 

 

As the sun dzew westward we busied our-
, \

was a crazy concern, loosely hasped, and

    

was, and it wur on me head all the time.” ‘i ;
      

~

cages Pe

ss Sunil

== ee ay

 

 

 

*

 

GoOoD

 

NEWS.

3487

 

AMONG

?

e as Gx
Goop News iGLUBS.

[SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column.is for Goop
NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted
excepting such as are genuine GOOD NEWS Club
notices, and nothing in the shape of an advertise-
ment will be allowed. Every club notice should
have the names of the president and secretary of
the club attached. For information concerning
GOOD NEWS Club Badge and Electrotypes see ad-
vertisement on last page. ]

 

——

CHAT.

H. C. K., Manchester, ;
GooD NEWS Club, and therefore we cannot insert
your notice.

Lieatelbenanetp madi

CLUB NOTICES.

Boys, have you read about Gentleman Jack,
Jack Dempsey, and others of the prize-ring? If
not, you should join the Buckeye GOOD NEWS Pas-
time Club of Sandusky, Ohio. The following are
the officers: Rudolph Stawetzky, president; Oscar
Wendschuh, vice-president; William Hupp, secre-
tary and treasurer. Members can correspond and
exchange with each other. You will also get from
25 to 50 cents’ worth of libraries to read every
month. Initiation fee, 10 cents; dues, 5 cents a
month in advance (silver or stamps). Address the
secretary, Wm. Hupp, Osborn street.

GOOD NEws Corresponding and Exchange Club
of Wilton, Conn., is the club to join, as you can ex-
change anything which you may have, or you can
correspond, All joining will receive a card of
membership, list of members which is soon to be
issued, 1 trick, 6 all different foreign stamps, and 6
cards with name printed on each. Initiation fee,
10cents Ladies, foreign members, and secretaries
of other clubs free. Address E. S. Benedict, Wil-
ton, Conn.

All young people are invited to join the Goop
NEWS Young People’s Literary Society of Chicago,
Ill. To all joining we give a handsome card of

membership, a list of members wanting corre-

“~~ spondents, twenty-five varieties of foreign stamps,
_ apackage of reading matter, and

many other
things. Dues, 10 cents per year in advance; no
initiation fee. Young ladies admitted for a 2-cent
stamp. Address B. A. Wilson, 27 Fay street, Chi-
cago, Ill,

To all joining the Crescent GooD NEws Corres-
ponding Club will be given a package of station-
ary, list of members, and membership card, Initia-
tion fees, and dues, 15 cents. You should join at
once and take advantage of this liberal offer. For
further information address, with stamp, the sec-
retary, John Wieser, 613A Trendly avenue, East
St. Lonis, Il.

We have lots of members, but want more. Write
for circular and particulars of our club, or send in
your initiation fee and dues and you will be all
right. Initiation fee, 10 cents; dunes, 5 cents per
month in advance. Address G. W. Tremain, secre.
tary GOOD NEWs Corresponding Club, Fort Dodge
Towa,

A club has been organized under the name of the j

GOOD NEwWs Leisure Time Club of Portland, Me.,
Miss Jennie Coleman, president; Miss Nellie Cole-
man, vice-president ; Alice Freeman, secretary and
treasurer. Initiation fee, 12cents; no dues; ladies,
me Address the secretary, Box 1559, Portland,
Me.

If you are not meee amember of GOOD NEWS
Friendship Club of Chicago, Ill., send for applica-
tion blank and full particulars to the secretary.
Initiation fee, 10 cents; dues, 5 cents per month in
advance. Ladies free. Adolf Boehm, secretary,

, 575 West Twenty-fifth street.

Mian’:
: <h eal

 

Bb XCHANGE EPARTMENT.

—<o—_——

{IMPORTANT.—This column is free to 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,
explosives, dangerous or worthless articles. If oe
notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may be
Address all
“Exchange De-

‘understood that they were not accepted.
communications for this column

partment, ]

——_e—_—

READING MATTER.—Walter J. Sorrow, 91
Moulton street, Watertown, N. Y., has 2 of Cooper’s
cloth-bound novels, 2 libraries, 1 Hunters’ and
Trappers’ Guide, Magnet Hand-book, 5 5-cent
novels, and other reading matter to exchange for
books on navigation or best offer. All letters an-
swered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—James C. Whaley, Box 420,
New Berne, N. C., has 1 walnut electric bell, $1
ty bswriter, $12 printing outfit, magic lantern
slides, and bound books to exchange for electric
motor or printing press of same value, Electric
motor preferred.

_MISCELLANEOUS.—Richard Beaumont, Box

"176, Wabash, Ind., has 6 manual libraries, over 60

5 and 10-cent libraries, 4 volumes boys’ papers, 8
bound books, a good razor and outfit for shaving, a
Remington typewriter, a self-inking printing press,
a@ 21-foot canvas canoe (folding),a whole angling
outfit, a Rugby foot-ball, a $6 camera, almost new,
several nr see and various other articles to
exchange for best offer. All letters inclosing
Stamp will be answered.

_ STAMPS —A. Hodgkiss, 3823 Eoff street, Wheel-

_ ing, W. Va., will exchange 2300 U.S. and’ foreign

is

_ exchange for best offer.

.

stamps, many rare, for an electric motor with or
without fan (must be in good running order.)
_MISCELLANEOUS.—Clarence Little, Camp
Point, Ill, has a banjo, tuning pipe, a gold plated
watch, keeps good time, a magic lantern and 6
slides, four bound volumes, a stereoscope and 26
views, 36 internal revenue stamps valued at $20 to
exchange for a snap-shot camera 4x5.

_ STAMPS.—Stephen H. Dwyer, 302 F lit
street, Allegheny City, Pa\will give Euae a

aper
for 50 stamps; 1 picture card for 25 stam ps. V onld
like to correspond with collectors of stamps. All

letters answered. |

READING MATTER.—Bert Dean, Lock Box
288, Braddock, Pa., has boys’ papers, 100 5-cent
novels, 250 photos, and $14 worth of bound books to

WATCH.—M, Rotombursky, disington, Mich.,
has a good silver watch to exchange for best offer.
MISCELLANEOUS.—James Harrington, 30 Sec.
ond st., Memphis, Tenn., has about worth of

Iowa.—-Yours is not a!

 

players’ photographs, and stamp albums and other
matter to exchange for best offer of typewriter or
camera. All letters answered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Jacob Weiss, 7i8 East 6th
Street, New York city, has a lot of miscellaneous
articles to exchange for offers. List on application
and all letters answered.

READING MATTER.—Claude Farnsley,sRoom
7, Tyler Building, -Louisville, Ky., has reading
matter to exchange for blue sweater or opera
or field glasses.

READING MATTER.—Wm Hupp, Osborn
Street, Sandusky, Ohio, has alot of boys’ papers,
novels, song-books, books on boxing, wrestling,
and club swinging to exchange for printing press,
field glasses, or other reading matter.

NOVELS.—Adolf Boehm, 575 West 25th street,
Chicago, Ills., has 50 5 and 10-cent novels to ex-
change for best offer.

READING MATTER.—Nic. G. Wilson, St.
Joseph, Mo., will exchange a 25-cent novelfor 8
Columbian stamps above 2 cents, or 150 Columbian
land 2-cent. Story paper for every 10 Columbian
1 and 2-cent or a3-cent. Notless than 5 taken.

NOVELS.—O. G. Ramsey, Concord, Ky., will ex-
change fifty 5-cent and ten 25-cent novels for tele-
graph key and sounder. All letters answered.

READING MATTER.—Clifford Piercy, Green-
castle, Ind,, will exchange eighty books, fifty of
which are copyrighted, for ten volumes of maga-
zines prior to any volume of year 1893.

STAMP ALBUM.—Joseph Gowland, 422 Tnlane |

avenue, New Orleans, La., has an imperial stamp
album containing $5 worth of stamps to exchange
for camera and outfit, or best offer.

MISCELLANEOUS.,—Ike Gerson, 177 Delancey
street, New York city, has a pair of ice-skates and
500 foreign, American, and Columbian stamps to
exchange for accordion.

STAMPS.—Oscar Barber, Meadville, Pa., will
exchange one foreign stamp for each 1 or 2-ceut
Columbian; or three foreign for each one over the
2-cent issue.

NOVELS.—W. Lavaroni, General Delivery, post
office, San Francisco, Cal., will exchange four 25-
cent novels for fifty all different United States
stamps.

STAMPS.—N. R. Lowry, 3306 King street, Aus-

| tin, Texas, will exchange thirty finely mixed for-

;

f

 

reading matter, novels, story papers, 250 base-ball

eign stamps for every Confederate stamp sent
him. Also a brand-new 100-page stamp album, with
spaces for 2,000 stamps, for thirty Confederate
Stamps of any kind.

READING MATTER.—Bert I. Rush, 813 Jeffer-
son street, Kansas City, Mo., has 125 copies of boys’
and other papers and $25 worth of novels to éx-
change for a guitar. :

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Stephen “Bell, Hartwell,
Hamilton County, Qhio, would exchange voluine 6
boys’ paper for some other volume of similar pa-
pers, novels, etc.; residents of Cincinnati pre-
ferred. ae

MISCELLANEOUS.—R._ Friedrich, 546 East
Water street, Milwaukee, Wis., has 400 picture
cards, 500 mixed foreign and 300 Columbian stamps,
new album, will hold over 2,900 stamps; ten foreign
coins to exchange for set of boxing-gloves, punch-
ing-bag, or best effer.

PRINTING PRESS.—John Kremer. 159 Melrose
street, Brookiyn, N. Y., has No. 10 Baltimore
printing press and six fonts of type, value $18, and
500 cards to exchange for a mandolin.

MISCELLANEOUS .—E. H., Gillette, 1235 North
Nineteenth street, Philadelphia, Pa., has novels,
stamps, a base-ball worth 25 cents, and other things
to exchange.

STAMPS.—L. G. Sly, Box 91, Swanton, Ohio, will
exchange 500 foreign stamps for every 30-cent Co-
lumbian, or 1,000 for every 50-cent. Aiso has books
to exchange for an opera-glass.

TYPEWRITER.—John Spence, 926 N. Broad-
way, Baltimore, Md., would like to exchange an $8
typewriter for a punching-bag and a pairot boxing-
gloves, or best offer in type.

 

Our Mail Bag.

{Questions on subjects of general greet oul
dealt with in the “Mail Baw.” edical or legal
questions not answered. Goop Nerws goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed Goop News “Mail
Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.) &

—_ ¢ -——___—

A. S. F., San Antonio, Tex.—If the moistened
finger be rubbed around the edge of a glass finger-
bowl, or anordinary goblet or tumbler of thin
glass, a clear musical sound will be produced, and
this note is higher or lower according to the size of
the glass and the amount of water in it. By choos-
ing glasses of different sizes and pouring water to
different depths, itis possible to tune them to the
notes of the musical scale, so that melodies can be
played upon them. A set of glassesof the same
size may even be tuned thus, simply by pouring
different quantities of water into them. ‘The glass
sounds for some time after contact has ceased;
hence chords cap be played by rubbing one glass
after another. When the player wishes a note to
cease, he touches with his finger the rim of the
glass which is producing it.

Jack, St. Paul, Minn.—1. Var is obtained from pine
wood bythe process of charring, ‘he wood is
packed in kilns and covered rl wa ashes,
Fire is then applied, and the wood slowly carbon-
izes. ‘The tar as formed trickles down into a gutter
beneath the wood, and is conveyed thence by pipes
into tanks. 2. The best authorities give the first
battle of the Revolution to Concord rather than to
Lexington. There was no real fighting at the lat-
ter place. 3. Postage stamps were first used in
France in the reign of Louis XIV. but they did not
come into general use until 1847 or 8, nearly two
centuries later. 4. No.

Senseless Drake, Chicago, Tll.—1. The trade dollar
was brought into existence through the demand of
the Pacific coast for a coin to be used in commer-
cial relations, particularly with China and Japan.
It is worth about 87 cents. 2. See answer to H.C.
S. in last number. 3. Send for our complete cata-
logue. 4. No. Besides, blacking is so cheap that
it would not pay you to go to the trouble of making
it yourself, }

Young America, Cleveland, Ohio.—1. The oldest
President, at the time of his inanguration, was
John Quincy Adams, 68 years. ‘The youngest was
Ulysses S. Grant, 47. 2. It is curious that your
question as to the Queen's age reached us on her
birthday. She is 75 yearsold. —

J. 0. D., Southboro, Mass.—Scotland Yard is the
headquarters of the London police. It received its
name from the fact that the site was formerly oc-
cupied by a palace which was built for the recep-
tion of the Scottish kings when they visited the
English capital.

Boy from the West, Omaha, Neb.—1. A white flag

are

indicates fair weather. 2. Next week. See announce-
ments on eighth page. 3. We can give no informa-
tion as to the manufacture of explosives. Don’t
attempt anything of the sort. It is too dangerous.

Mary L. C., Cleveland, Ohio.—1. There is nothing
at all unlady-like in your indulging in athletic
sports such as are appropriate to your sex. If you
beat the boys, so mucn the worse for the boys! 2.
Certainly, we are always glad to hear from the
girls.

Collector, Youngstown, Ohio.--You have been
greatly misinformed as to the market value of the
coins you mention. An English shilling of the
time of Elizabeth is worth about $1.25, and one of
the time of Charles I. about seventy-five cents.

R. M. A., Cheyenne, Wyoming.—The custom of
shaking hands comes undoubtedly from the bar-
baric ages, when two men, meeting, gave each
other the hand in which the weapon would be
carried, as a security against treachery.

Yum Yum, Boston, Mass.—1. Missouri is an In-
dian word meaning ‘‘muddy.” 2, Yés, both naval
and military cadets are paid a salary. Look ont
for our articles on this subject, shortly to appear,
3. Yes.

J. F., Pelham, Wis.—What a question to ask!
Of course there is no slavery in tlie United States
to-day.. Have you never heard of the “late un-
pleasantness ?”’ ;

Oarsman, Nyack, N. Y.—1. In the latter part of
June. 2. Slightly over a mile. 3. We think so, but
are not positive. Write to the secretary for infor-
mation.

Bay State, Chicago, Ill—1. Fast Day is abolished
in Massachusetts. 2. We think it was finally de-
cided to call it simply “The Nineteenth of April.”

West Point, Newton, Mass,—There will be an ar-
ticle in the next number of GOOD NEws which will
give you all the information you desire.

Ticklets.

BY CHARLES W.

FOSTER.

o——

The Bicycle Era.

Father (a few years hence)—“Why do you
take your bicycle when you are going such a
short distance? Why don’t you walk?”

Daughter (modestly)-—““Walk ? Mercy, no!
I don't want to be so conspicuous.”

A Wave of Reform.

Little Johnny—‘I won't be ‘kept after
school for whispering to Tommy Dodd any
more.”

Mother—‘I am glad of that.”

“Yes’m. Tommy sat behind me and I had to
turn my head to whisper to him, and the
teacher always saw me.”

“You don’t do it any more, IT hope.”

“Nome. I’ve gota seat behind Tommy, and
now he'll have to turn his head.”

Moral Suasion.

Old Gentleman—‘‘Do you mean to say that
your teachers never thrash you?”

Little Boy —‘Never. We have moral suasion >
at our school.”

“What's that?”

“Oh, we get kep’ in, and stood up in corners,
and locked out, and lockedin, and made to
write one word a thousand times, and secowled
at, and jawed at, and that’s all.”

 

D. O. F., Gabriella, Fla.—Thanks for your com-
pliment. We mean to make GOOD NEWS the “‘best |
of news always.”

B. C., Hamilton, Ont.—l. Yes. 2 There is no}
premium. 3. Yes. For full information see No. 210 |
of GooD NEWS.

Ralph, Helena, Mont.—There are three sons of
General Grant living—Fred D., U. &., Jr., and
Jesse,

Injured, Menominee, Wis.—It is possible, but not
probable. Aren’t you a little in the wrong your-
self?

Q., Antioch, Ohio.__No. Stop a moment to think,
and you will see the reason why. It is very sim-
ple. '

L. C. B., Taunton, Mass.—Yonr case is not a mat-
ter for this department. Consult your parents.
Henry D., Jacksonville, Fla.—It would take too
much space to describe the game of chess here.
Ray, Santa Barbara, Cal.—Yes, a sponge belongs
to animal life, but to the very lowest order.

R. M. B., Austin, Texas.—We hope so, too, but
each one must stand his chance.

'F. C., Savannah, Ga.—We'cannot answer medical
questions in this column.

J. K., Buffalo, N. Y.—Thanks for the suggestion.
We will consider it.

R. H., Des Moines, Iowa.—Exactly its face value,
and no more.

J. F &., Concord, N. H.—Yes, to both questions.

N. 7. H., Oxford, Mass.— Yes.

[Several communications left over to be answered
next week.)

rr ooo

DESTRUCTION OF THE VENDOME
COLUMN.

 

The Vendome Column in Paris, which was
destroyed by the Commune in 1871, was
erected by Napoleon I., principally of can-
non taken at Ulm, to commemorate the vic-
tory of Austerlitz in 1805. It was covered
with 425 bronze placques, molded in bas-
relief to display the chief incidents in the
Austrian campaign of that year,

They were each 3 teet 8 inches high, and
forfhed a continuous band, inclosing the
column twenty-two times as it circled to the
top, the entire length of the spiral being
840 feet.

Instead of Charlemagne, as at first in-
tended, it was surmounted by a statue of
the first Napoleon in a Roman costume and
crowned with a laurel. After several: post-
poneménts it was brought to the ground on
the 16th of May, in the presence of many
thousands who had waited for hours to wit-
ness the spectacle. Owing to some engin-
eering difficulties in cutting the base, it
could not be brought down at the time
originally fixed. The members of the Com-
mune attended in state to witness the affair,
and sentinels were posted about half-way
down the Rue de la Paix to prevent the
crowd from approaching too close, as up to
the last moment accidents were feared,

At half-past five in the afternoon the
ropes were tightened, and suddenly the col-
umn was observed to lean forward toward
the Rue de la Paix, then finally to fall, with
a dull, heavy thud, raising as it did so an
immense cloud of dust. Before it touched
the ground it separated into three parts by
its own weight, and on reaching the bed of
dirt and faggots spread to receive it, broke
into at least thirty pieces. The statue of
Napoleon, on reaching the ground, broke
off from its pedestal at the ankles, then at
the knees, the waist, and the neck, while
the iron railings which surrounded the sum-
mit of the monument were shivered to
pieces. Shortly after the column had fallen,
spectators were permitted to traverse the
place to witness the wreck, but were not
permitted to take away any of the fragments.
os )
_ An English firm is using the silk of the
wild silkworm, from which is woven a soft,
substantial fabric of light tusson or pongee

 

Forcing the Season.
Mother—“What? Been in swimming? And
this time of. the ysar? Mercy! When I went
out to-day, I wore my winter coat.”
Little Johnny (with teeth chattering)—
“Yes'in, it was so—so—cold we ha-had to jum-
jump into the wa-water to kee-keep warm.”

Fully Comprehended.
Teacher—‘‘As the twig is bent the tree is iff-~
clined! Do you understand that?”
Boy—“Yes’m. We’n bicycle boys grow up,
they’ll walk with a stoop.” :

An Important Post.

Store Boy—“Can’t get off to-day. We're
takin’ an inventory of stock. Awful busy.”
Chum—‘Wot good are you in takin’ inven-
tories ?”

Store Boy—“Good? I’m more important
than the head book-keeper. I wash the fly-
specks off of last year’s goods. ¢

Had It Down Fine.
Teacher—‘Define ‘unsophisticated.’ ”
Bright Boy —‘‘‘Unsophisticated’ means a boy
wot thinks the circus season raises the price of

lemons.”
In a Bad Way.
Teacher—‘‘Some scientists now believe that

| the lights recently seen on Mars are signals

from the people of that planet to the inhabi-

tants of Earth. What do you think of that?”
Bright Boy {who lives on the sea-coast)—

“Maybe they’ve lost their rudder.” :

Pot and Kettle,

Teacher—‘‘What is your name?”

Little Boy (from England)—‘’Enry Had-
als.” {

Little Girl (from New York)—‘‘He, he!
him misplace his h’s.”

Teacher—“And what is your name ?” .

Little Girl—“‘Idar Warnah.”

Blessings of Bicycling.

Missionary—“'I think of getting up a series of
revival meetings for young men. Shr

_Villager—“Waste of time. Not needed at all,
sir. The young men of this town lead strictly
moral lives.”

“My! my! To what benign influence ao you
ascribe that remarkable condition ?” {

“They are all saving up money for 1894 pneu-

matics.”
Relief for Mothers.

Little Boy—*What’s the use of so many
queer letters in words? Look at that ‘ec’ in ‘in-
dicted.’” Wiss?

Little Girl—“I guess those is just put in so
mothers can get an excuse to send their chil-
drens to school and have a little peace.”

——__<s-0-o______
“OPM THE CAT!’

Hear

 

One night two tramps, Pat and Hans,
were exceedingly hungry, and had struck
a farm-house, the owner of which would
give them a lodging, but no food. So to

ed they went supperless.

About eleven o’clock Hans went softly
down to the pantry. Having eaten a
hearty meal, he returned, being compelled
to gee through the farmer’s bed-chamber.

When he got back, Pat questioned him
as to how he had done it.

“ An’ were not wake the ould man
up?” he said.

“Ya,” answered Hans; “but I yoost
stant shtill, und say: ‘Miaow, miaow |"

eee said Pat, “I'll do the same
meself,”

As he entered the farmer's room, he
stumbled over a chair and woke the
farmer, who cried out, angrily: Hi

“Who's there?”

“Oh, lay shtill!” said Pat. “O'im the
cat 1" ag '

——--~+- 0» )
WHY HE WHISTLED.

Old lady (to grocer’s boy)—Don’t ou
know that it is very rude to whistle when
dealing with a lady ?” ;

Boy—‘‘That’s what the boss told me to
do, mea’am.” we ;

“Told you to whistle ?”

 

 

shade.

“Yes’m., penee, we ever sold you any-
thing we'd have to whistle for our money.”

\

    
       
    
   
  
   
  
 
   
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
    
   
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
    
    
 
   
     
       
 
   
   
   
    
   
 
    
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
   
 
 
  
    
 
  
   
   
   
   
 
  
   
   
  
   
 
  
    
 
   
   
 
  
 
    
  
 
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
   
     
  
 
 
   
       
  
   
   
       
        
    

 

    
         
       
   
        
      
       
   
 
 
 

     

  
GOOD NEWS.

 

IN AFRICA.

 

THE BRIDGE.

 

 

 

ZyOy/ —_
al — ae

 

iio 0
as owl

— ‘ y.
Pa grt

4

3!

“Tar -
Ie \

( iy

een ll qa!

ak
SM
Ny

=>
tin? =

4

 

 

Wy,

 

 

 

First Exprorrr—“‘How in Sam Hill are we going to get

across this river?”

THE SCHEME.

Born Expio

 

 

“~T.

grs—‘‘Now talk about your Brooklyn Bridge !’

A BAD BREAK.

 

 

 

—

 

SeconD ExprorEr—‘‘I have a scheme.
Cuffy.”

et

BY ARCHIE C. IRONS.

No. I.—Gomye into Camp.

ee. ! 3

T'S the very spot, boys. We might hunt

IT the whole north woods over and not

find a ‘better one.”

Old Vic Andrews lowered the butt of
his rifle to the ground, and with his arms
folded over the muzzle, looked. around. with
a satisfied air. ret .

_ There were five of us, all told—Will Ar-
lington, Rex Brown, Jinx Harris, Vic An-
drews, and myself; just out from hard work,
with fishing-tackle, hunting apparatus, and
sketch-books, for a stay of a month in the
Michigan woods. We had chosen old Vic
Andrews as our guide, and we could not
have found a better one.

We were comparatively new in forest life,
but Vic promised to teach us a “thing or
two” in the course of time. Will Arlington
—‘Long-legged Will” we called him—Jinx
Harris, and myself had spent a season in
the woods together, but this was Rex
Brown’s first introduction to camp life.

We had come out fully expecting a good
time. The busy hum of civilization was left
far behind, and for miles around us lay the
lakes, rivers, 4nd unbroken forests of a new
country. We were ‘in the wilderness” in
the strictest sense of the word, We were all
lovers of nature, and-here, in her beautiful,
solemn haunts, we were going to spend our
holiday.

We looked around over the spot Vic had

chosen for our camping-ground with intense’

satisfaction. A little clear spot overhung
by giant trees, the ground strewn with gor-
geous-colored September leaves, a little
siream running near, and just in sight a
beautiful little lake, a mile or more in diam-
eter, and which Vic informed us was ‘‘just
chock heapin’ with fish.” In short, it was a
regular hunter’s paradise, and in five min-
utes perfect pandemonium reigned.

The poniés were relieved of ‘their packs
and picketed near, supplies brought out, a
roaring fire kindled, and our huge oil-cloth
tent in process of erection, .

Vie produced his fishing-rod and started
for the lake to proeure some of the finny
treasures for our dinner, while Rex, Jinx
and myself attended to the erection of our
tent. ;

Will had been appointed cook for the first
turn, and with his sleeves rolled +P and a
beautiful black spot on the side of his well-
developed nasal organ, was flourishing a
kettle in one hand and a poker in the other,
and with his lips stuck out and his chin

Get into line there,

 

foundations.

elevated, was whistling ‘‘Bachelor’s Hail” in
two-forty time.

Jinx Harris, tall, raw-boned and angular,
with an inexhaustible fund of drollery and
good humor, was running about, his hat
stuck on the back of his head, anda little
hatchet in his hand, driving a stake here,
sharpening one there, and acting consider-
ably like an escaped lunatic. Rex, with his
head-gear on the grass, and his hair tumbled
up, was making himself generally useful in
tying ropes, unpacking things, and at last
accidentally getting his foot twisted up in
Jinx’s long legs, which, owing to that
worthy’s speed, resulted in Rex measuring
his length on the grass with a shower of tin
plates and cups to. keep him company, while
his victim was obliged, from sheer force of
circumstances, to continue his speed for
half a dozen yards to preserve his equilib-
rium, and amid all the confusion Vic made
his appearance, with a string of fish cleaned
and washed, which he turned over to Will,
and half an hour afterward our tent was
erected, and we were gathered around a
common center—namely, a huge dish of
“fish, flesh and fowl,” and with our tin
plates and coffee cups, were busy discussing
our first dinner in the woods.

“Now, boys, this is what I call livin’,” re-
marked Vic, reaching for another pound
slice of meat, and refilling his cup with
coffee. “I don’t gen’rally hey much appe-
tite, but vittels allus tastes better in the
woods than towns, somehow. Cur'us, an’t
it?”

Before any of us could reply, Vie’s hound
set up a loud baying, a hulf a mile or more
distant, and for the first time we noticed
that he was not with the party.

Vic listened’ a moment, and then sprang
for his gun.

“There’s fun ahead, boys, right on the
start. That dorg knows what he’s about
well's a weazel. He's fetchin’ a deer across
the ridge ranway. I know where it is, and
if you want some fun, foller me.”

We all knew that Vic had spent a season
at this place, and was well informed con-
cerning the’ ‘‘runways,”) and there was a
general scramble for revolvers, guns, and
powder flasks, Eatables were at a discount ;
turkey legs, fish bones, and ‘minor things”
flew in every direction, and in two. minutes
the camp was deserted, and we were tum-
bling along through the brush after old Vic
at a half run. It was a short cut to the
‘runway,’ and we reached it in ample time,

‘‘Spread out along the ridge, boys,” com-
manded Vic, hurriedly, ‘‘and one of you
run across to that other little one there.
They come down on that once in a while.”

I was half-way to the place last men-
tioned before Vic was done speaking, and

‘

 

 

= oe ie

ees . 7 ,
But just then the bridge gave ways #Cause, sinking of, the

y *
took my stand by a little black oak, ahd
then a dead silence reigned among us:

T could hear the baying of the hound, and
I had been at my stand but a few minutes
when I caught a glimpse of a doé coming
along the ridge directly toward me.

I waited \till she was crossing an open
space, and then pulled on her ; but she only
halted a breath to glance at me as I lowered
my gun, and then, turning, disappeared
among the brush toward the other ridge.

An instant after I heard Will’s rifle crack,
and then two shots in rapid succession, fol-
lowed by half a dozen or more hardly dis-
tinguishable from each other, and then a
terrific yell from Jinx.

They had killed the deer, of course, and I
lowered my gun to start over to where they
were, when I heard a rushing noise through
the areata and then the doe alighted
on all fours Within three feet of me, her
eyes hanging out the size of sugar-bowls,
and her ears flopping around in all direc-
tions at once.

T-am not sure which was the more sur-
prised, she or I; but her inaction was of
short duration. Before a jack rabbit could
whisk his tail, she had pulled her feet from
the dirt which she had plowed up in her
sudden stop, hung out her eyes another
quarter, and was sauntering down the hill
at a rate that would have put to shame any-
thing in the lightning line.

“Where'd she go?” cried Jinx, rushing |
along with his still smoking gun. ‘She
must have gone this way.”

“Tt strikes, me that she did,” I responded,
dryly.

“Duse take you, for a set of greenhorns !”
exclaimed, old Vic, in exasperation. ‘It’s
‘nough t@ make a meetin’-house swear! You
see,” ttrning to me, “they up an” blazed
away ‘thout takin’ any aim ’tall, an’ then
pulled their revolvers an’ peppered away
with them, an’ scart the darn’d critter so’s I
never got a shot at all, an’ I'll bet all ’m
worth nary one of em touched a hair! I
tell ye, boys, if yer ever expect ter hey any
luck at all, you've got to take some pains,
an’ look where you shoot.”

And then we followed along, Indian file,
after old Vic toward camp, ‘‘sadder but
wiser boys.”

Wash Your Face with

A pure Antiseptic Toilet Soap for the Skin,
Scalp, and Complexion. Druggists sell it.
3 Cakes 100. Beware of Imitations.

A Book on Dermatology with every Cake

Woodbury’s Facial Soap.
notights. Large sample x9 inches for 10¢ silver; 16 by ox

PHOTOS Prowfor $1.00. M.G, ART CO., KANSAS CITY, MO.

Mention Good News.

 

 

FRENCH GIRLS, Rare beauties; full length from an

AGENTS

i Hghip, half breadth plan,

FOR ALL. $75 2 month salary and ex-
penses paid. If you want employment write

WO ey K at once toP. O. VICKERY, Augusta,Maine.

Mention Good News.

We guarantee $5 per day easy, quick
and sureto workers. Greatseller. Write
quick. Royal Mfg. Co,, Milwaukee, Wia.

. Mention Good News. pa IS ie
MARRIAGE PAPER £38 S.:ccorncsposcsnt
gents want correspondents
GUNNELS’ MONTHLY, TOLEDO, OHIO.
Mention Good News.

WYo-—= wi CANNOT SEE HOW YOU DO
pt FE IT AND PAY FREIGHT.

i] Ts Buys our 2drawer walnut or oak Im-
“a
1) Ry

\

\

2 4 proved High Arm Singersewing machine
HN m and heavy work; guaranteed for 10 Years; with

 

iy
Mi

=
r 4
» . finely finished, nickel plated, adapted to light
Oe
i)

hI ‘#] Automatic Bobbin Winder, Self-Threading Cylin-
Wee $A) der Shuttle, Self.Setting Needle and a complete

, set of Steel Attachments; shipped any where on

30 Day’s Trial, No money required in advance.

75,000 now {nuse. World’s Fair Medal awarded machine and attach.
ments. Buy from factory and save dealer’s and agent’s profits.
Cat This Out and send to-day for machine or large free

FREE catalogue, testimonials and aiinvess of the World’s Fair.

OXFORD MFG. CO, 342 Wabash Ave. CHICAGO, ILL,

Mention Good News.

B O AT HOW TO MODEL, SAIL

« . AND BUILD A BOAT.
ad :

Everything relating to boats ds fully fllustrated

and explained in plain terms with ap avoid-

ance of technical words. Complete *chap-

ters on modeling a boat, ship building,

rigging of ship,etc. Among the illus-

trations will be found: model for

deck of cutter, diagram of forms

of boat, form of stern, model

of schooner, sheer plan of

°

e
2

ody plan, the keel-

«fn, planking, cat;

head, Knots and
splices, step-
ping a
mast,

etc.

e
Water Line.

 

 

 

Seris Paarbiastirr tio : !
be .. yh z 7
This valuable"hook, entitled Boys’ Own Book of Boats, will be
sent postpaid tovaby ad- 10¢ Address MANUAL LIBRARY,
dress on reeeipt-of price, e 29 Rose St., New York,
Mention Good News.

 

 

 

 

 

 

of, fucken,

BUY DIRECT AND SAVE DEALER’S
ai $12 AND AGENT’S PROFITS.

WA? i Onuy our Oxford Boss Bicycle, suit-
“ii ee ble for either sex, made of best ma-
i terial, strong, substantial, accurately

\adjnsted ‘and fully "warranted. Write to-day for our

“large complete catalogue of bicycles, parts, repairs, ete.,

fey, OXFORD MEG, CO.
} ‘888 Wabash Avenue, CHICAGO, ILL.
“Mention Good News.

Good. News. Binder

Price 50 Cents.

Answers the purpose of a bound volume, Holding

fifty-two copies comfortably.

-Itis, without doubt, the finest binder ever offered
even for double the price we ask, and is indispens-
able to those who are keeping their papers, as it
nobonly preserves GOOD NEws for future reference,
and from being lost, but keeps them clean; and in
goodorder. Itis both useful and ornamental,

We will send the GOOD News binder, and a pack.
age of binder pins, postpaid, to any address on re-
ceipt of 50 cents.

We have issued volumes two, three,
four, and five, bound im an attractive
heavy paper cover. ‘Twenty - six
numbers constitute a volume, ‘Lhe
papers are cut and trimmed and

bound with as much care a8 an expensive cloth
binding, and the price 18

EIGHTY-FIVE CENTS EACH.
These volumes contain serial stories by
Edward 8S. Ellis, Horatio Alger,
Jas. Otis, Edward Stratemeyer,
Harry Castlemon, Wm. Murray @raydon,
Walter Morris, Oliver Optic,
W. B. Lawson, Lieut. Lounsberry,
And others equally well known,

Address Subscription Department GoobD NEws,
29 Rose street, New York. ‘

 

BOUND VOLUMES OF GOOD
NEWS.

 

WHY PAY DEALER'S PROFIT?
2 75 buys 2 $9 White Reed Baby Carriage, freight
' prepaid, shipped on 10 days’ trial. Latest
design and style. Perfect, reliable and finely finished.
<M,tes Nothing but the best materia! used and warranted for 8
ale YEARS. We have been in the manufacturing business
many years, and are reliable and responsible : make and
P\welinothing but what we can guarantee as represented,quote ”
Write to-day for our large eat-
ere he most complete ever published.

OXFORD MFG. CO., 340 Wabash Ave., Chicago, fil,
Mention Good News.

 

By request of a large
number of readers we
have had manufactured
aneat badge, The above |
eutis a fac-simile. The?
badge is made of a lhigh |
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 might
fall into unappreciative
hands, We have, there-
fore, decided to make a
small charge of six cents
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 fot printing the fac-
simileof 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 NEws Cor-
responding Club, 29-R6se street, New York.

Be sure ana use “Mrs. Winslow%s
Soothing Syrup” for yourchildren

 

 

MOTHERS

while Teething. 25 cents a bottle