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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1895, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N.Y., Post-Office.

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Vol. 11. 19 Rose Sires, New York. New York, October 12, 1895. ngas0 per Year.” No, 284.

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OR,

FRANK FORRESTER'S MOTTO THROUGH LIFE.

By HENRY HARRISON HAINES,
Author of “Upright and Honest,” Fic.

ccc

CHAPTER I. around the spacious business office. ‘* Ah,
there he is in the corner. Frank?’’
A BOY IN BUSINESS. ‘*'Yes, sir.”’
**Come here, please.’’
5 Ae HERE is that young Forrester?’’ Frank Forrester put down the pen, with
WY\\/o muttered Mr. Dunham, the man-| which he had been addressing a big pile of
‘“RIELDER, I BEG THAT YOU WILL STAND AWAY FROM THE GATE AND PERMIT THE ~ aging partner of Carhart, Dun- | envelopes, containing a pamphlet on specu-
} YOUNG LADY TO PASS IN.”’ “e ham & Carhart, glancing quickly | lation, which the firm was sending out, and

 
  
 
  
    
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
   
   
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
    
   
  
 
  
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
     
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   

 

 

 
  
  
   

 

   
  

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coords

 

came forward to where Mr. Dunham sat,
talking about business with an old customer
of the house.

It was just eleven o’clock in the morning,
in the month of May, and the firm of Car-
hart, Dunham & Carhart was doing busi-
ness. The three partners were engaged, and
so were every one of the clerks, and in such
a manner as to make it impossible for them
to attend to anything else, when the watch-
ful eyes of the managing partner noted the
fact that a neatly attired, middle-aged gen-
tleman was standing within the door, with
a rather impatient expression on his face.

Positively, nobody else could be called,
and it was then that Mr. Dunham thought
of Frank Forrester.

Now, Frank was hardly looked upon as a
clerk by the firm of bankers and brokers
who employed him at the salary of five dol-
lars per week, but he was bright, clever
with his pen, quick and correct at figures,
had general business adaptability, and
seemed to be ‘‘pi¢king up’’ the details of
the office work in a promising manner. He
acted as messenger, made frequent trips to
and from the stock exchange as needed,
directed enyelopes, went several times daily
to the post-office to obtain the mail from
the lock box of the firm, and was very use-
ful ia many ways; but he had never been
called upon to take any leading part ina
financial transaction.

His black eyes sparkled when Mr. Dun-
ham, with an indicating nod of his head,
briefly said:

‘Please attend to that gentleman over
there.’’

‘‘Certainly, sir,’? was the respectful re-
ply, and passing outside the rail that divided
the private portion of the room from the
public one, Frank approached the impa-
tient, middle-aged party near the door.

Frank was sixteen, of ordinary height,
but extraordinary build. He did not look
one day older than he was, and the gentle-
man he approached regarded him witha
rather unfavorable glance.

‘‘Good-morning, sir,’’ politely said Frank
in a smooth, easy style. ‘‘What can I do
for you?’’

His easy manner seemed to reassure the
other.

‘*Why, you see,’’ he responded, in that
confidential manner often noted in persons
new to a business, ‘‘I want to speculate and
hardly—that is—I don’t—er——’’

And then, as he paused in rather a helpless
manner, Frank said:

‘*You feel like investing some money and
don’t know exactly how to go about the
matter.’’

“Exactly, exactly,’’ returned the other.
‘“‘That’s just it. My name’s Harcourt, and
one of my neighbors, a party named Mar-
tineau, has made quite a fortune dealing
with your firm. I thought I’d like to try
my hand at it, and that’s what I’m here
for.’?

‘Very well, Mr. Harcourt,’’ said Frank,
‘*T shall be pleased to take your order.’’

‘*But I don’t know what to invest the
money in,’’ frankly admitted Mr. Harcourt,

with a rather shame-faced expression. ‘‘I
never made an investment in stocks in my
life.’’

‘*T see, sir,” responded Frank.

‘¢ And don’t know how to go about it,’’

‘‘Oh, I can easily show you how,’’ was

the polite rejoinder.

‘‘Thanks. Now, if I want to invest a few
hundred dollars, my boy, in what stocks
would you advise me to venture the
money ?’?

Well, now Frank was put fairly upon his
mettle.

He did not hesitate one moment.

‘*T should advise you to put in your money
on May corn.”’

‘*Oh, May corn, eh??’’

‘*Yes, [regard that as being a decidedly
promising investment,’’ responded this six-
teen-year-old adviser.

‘*What do you think is going to take place
with May corn?”’

‘*Tt will shortly advance in price.’’

‘*You feel assured of this?’’

‘Yes, I do.’’

‘-What is the present price?”’

‘*it is selling at forty-four cents a bushel
at the last quotation,’’ replied Frank, ‘‘and
I shall be very much surprised if it does not
advance to tifty or more cents a_ bushel
within the next four to eight weeks.’’

Mr. Harcourt looked pleased,

‘*And how can I make an investment in
May corn?’’ he asked.

‘*Well,’’? replied Frank, ‘‘I can buy you
ten thousand bushels of corn on a margin of
one hundred dollars, but the safer plan
would be for you to deposit three hundred
dollars with the firm in case of a decline in
the market. ,; It is, of course, impossible to
guess the very lowest point May corn might
reach in the fluctuations of the market, and
your deposit would protect your margin.”’

‘‘T can understand you so far,’’ said the
prospective customer, ‘‘and now tell me
about the profits.’’

‘‘That is simple. For every cent a bushel
advance, you would clear just one hundred
dollars on your ten thousand bushels.’?

Mr. Harcourt’s eyes snapped.

‘*T?l] do it,’’ he said.

“You'll invest, sir?’’

,
| produced a pencil and a pad to take down
the order.

‘*Why,’’ rather uncertainly, ‘‘I’ll buy the
ten thousand bushels worth, as you say.’’

‘‘ And put up three hundred dollars?’’

SS ¥ Od

‘*Walk this way, sir, please,’’ requested
Frank, and with pardonable pride led him
up to the desk, handed in the memorandum,
and the accompanying cash, to the particu-
lar clerk who attended to the investment de-
posits, obtained a proper receipt, handed it
to the customer with a little pamphlet on
speculation, and politely bowed him out of
the place.

Then Frank went back to the desk he had
left, and began industriously directing the
envelopes again.

Ten minutes later Mr. Dunham finished
the details of the business transaction he
had been conducting, and when his caller
had departed he naturally looked for Frank.

Seeing him working at his desk, the man-
aging partner walked over to him.

‘‘Who was that gentleman, Frank?’’
asked.

‘‘A Mr. Harcourt, a friend and neighbor
of Mr. Martineau.’’

‘‘Oh, indeed! Mr. Martineau is a
good customer. What did he want?’’

‘‘He wanted to speculate.’’

‘‘Oh, I see. Will he call in again??’

‘¢*What for, sir?’’

‘*To make an investment

‘*He has made it, sir.’’

‘*Through whom???

‘*Through me.’'

Mr. Dunham regarded the boy with open-
mouthed astonishment.

The idea of a boy conducting such a busi-
ness transaction surprised him.

‘*‘ And who authorized you to do it?’’ he
finally asked.

‘* You, sir,’? replied Frank, with a man-
ner and tone equally respectful and fearless,

‘‘Explain yourself, Frank.’’

‘*T will, sir. You said, ‘Frank, attend to
that gentleman over there,’ and when I
found out what he wanted I attended to
bim. He wanted to invest, and he didn’t
know how, so I gave him the simple details.
Then he asked me what looked most promis-
ing, and I gave him the best of my judg-
ment. Then he deposited three hundred dol-
lars, and that is all there is to it.’?

Mr. Dunham was a sharp, shrewd, practi-
cal business man, and as he listened to this
business-like statement an amused smile
crept over his face.

‘*Well, you seem to have conducted the
matter correctly. enough,’’ he said, ‘‘but
what was your advice?’’

‘*T advised him to buy May corn.’’

seWhiy???

‘‘ Because I have been studying it, and I
feel sure that it is going to rise.’’

‘*What makes you think so?’’

‘*Well, last year’s crop was the smallest

he

very

99?

 

in fourteen years, being nearly 500,000,000
bushels less than the average, and I think it
is bound to go up. On my advice Mr. Har-
court has bought ten thousand bushels at
forty-four cents.’’

‘*Well, that sounds like good judgment,
like very good judgment,’’ reflectively said
Mr. Dunham, gazing with admiration and
approval at the clever boy. ‘‘I didn’t think
you had so much in you, Forrester, and I
can assure you that you’re not going to re-
main in your present position very long.”’’
And then he walked away, while Frank
swelled with pride. ;

It was with a very light heart that he
went out for his noon luncheon, but when
he came back to the office he was somewhat
distressed to see Mr. Harcourt talking in an
excited manner with Mr. Dunham, and to
hear him say:

‘¢Yes, sir, my friend Martineau says that
he is surprised that you should have per-
mitted me to invest my money on the coun-
sel of a mere boy.’’

‘*Well, sir,’’? soothingly said the manager,
‘‘vou can transfer your money as you
please, but I must say that the young fellow
gave you good advice,’’

Frank had passed behind the rail, and in
obedience to an unaccountable feeling, he
walked over to the stock ‘‘ticker,’’ that was
jusé then grinding out quotations.

He picked up the tape, and ran his eye
over the freshly printed information.

Then he took in a long breath, walked
out to where the manager and the dissatis-
fied customer were standing, and said;

‘‘Mr. Dunham, May corn has advanced
two points, and is now quoted at forty-six.’’
‘‘Mr. Harcourt, I congratulate you,’’
briskly said Mr. Dunham. ‘‘You have al-
ready cleared two hundred dollars on your
investment.’

Harcourt met Frank’s gaze,
to the roots of his hair.

“So your advice was good,’’ he stam-
mered.

‘‘Tt seems so,’’? was the modest reply.
‘‘Then what shall I do next?’’ -was the
rather helpless question.

Frank looked at Mr. Dunham inquiringly.
‘‘Oh, no,’’? laughingly cried Dunham;
‘‘this is your transaction, and I shall not
interfere in it unless Mr. Harcourt asks
me.’?

‘*No, no, I'll trust to the boy,’’ said Har-
court.

and flushed

 

VY es 9?
‘““How much, please?’’ asked Frank, as he

   

‘‘Then,’’? said Frank, ‘‘I advise you to
jeaye an order to close out the matter at

 

| prising grasp of the business.
ime the truth when you said you had never

obtained work as a copyist, and managed to

in fact, slavish in his devotion, is Randolph

  

NEW S.

    

 

fifty, which will give you a handsome profit.
lt takes a little nerve to do it, but I would
do it.’’

‘‘Then I?ll do it,’’ exclaimed the
tomer, and under Frank’s direction the or-
der was given to close out the deal when
May corn should reach fifty.

When the customer had gone, the manag-
ing partner turned to Frank.

‘*Horrester,’’ he said, ‘*you show a sur-
Did you tell

been employed at the time I engaged you?’’

‘*‘T always tell the trutb, Mr. Dunham,’’
replied the boy, in his earnest, manly style,
‘‘and nothing could make me speak falsely.
I am by nature fearless and truthful; fear-
less because I do no wrong, and truthful be-
cause my conscience will not permit me to
tell a lie. I have my own way to make in
the world, and ‘fearless and true’ will be
my motto through life.’’

‘Good luck to you,’’? earnestly said the
managing partner. ‘‘I’m glad that I’m find-
ing out your unusual ability. [ll put you at
a little different work next week, and raise
your salary three dollars. Goon as you’re
going, Frank, fearless and true, and you’ll
make a successful business man and a
worthy member of society.’’

And he walked away, muttering:

‘*Fearless and true; a good motto,
motto.”’

Ever modest and conscientious, Frank at-
tended faithfully to his duties until closing
time, and then went joyfully home to the
humble apartments he and his mother occu-
pied.

His mother was absent, but in her stead
there was a note addressed to him, and as
he caught sight of it a presentiment of dan-
ger, a foreboding of evil struck a chill to
the boy’s heart!

a good

CHAPTER II.
PRETTY IDA CLARE.

Y DEAR FRANK:—When you get
this note [ want you to come
4 around to see me at my new
“Gs home, the home of, our good
friend, Randolph Markham, and there I
will talk to you about the step I have
taken, taken more for your sake, my dar-
ling boy, than for the sake of your loving
mother,

‘‘GrACE FORRESTER MARKHAM.,”?

IINY/,

The note fell from Frank’s hand, and
something like a groan issued from his lips.

‘*Grace Forrester Markham,’’ he mut-
tered, repeating the signature; ‘‘which
shows that she has already married him,
Well, she has a right to do as she pleases,
but I don’t like that man.’’

However, as he loved his mother very
dearly, he hastened to obey her wishes, and
five minutes later he was ringing the bell of
the handsome residence occupied by Ran-
dolph Markham, and a moment thereafter
he was drawn into a large and elegantly
furnished parlor and found himself in the
arms of his mother.

Frank’s mother was thirty-four years of
age, but looked younger, and was a de-
cidedly handsome and intellectual looking
woman, with an expression of independence
that found a reflection in the face of her
son.

‘‘Now, Frank,’’ she said, kissing him with
all a mother’s pride and love, ‘‘sit down
here, and let me talk. I am married to Mr,
Markham. i

‘‘T became his wife this morning, and I
kept the matter Secret from you because I
thought you would urge me to decline the
alliance, and, Frank, I determined upon the
step for your dear sake.

‘‘Let me briefly go over the events of the
past two years. How were we situated two
years ago?

At that time your father was the man-
ager of one of the largest telegraph offices
in this city, well paid and in good health,
and we were living in comfort and happi-
ness.

‘‘He mysteriously disappeared. An in-
vestigation by the police resulted in finding
a hat and a scarf-pin on a lonesome dock,
and evidences of a struggle were not want-
ing. The police gave it as their opinion that
Mark Forrester had been assaulted, plun-
dered, murdered, the body thrown  over-
board, and carried out to sea.”’

The agitated woman wiped the ready tears
from her eyes, composed herself, and then
continued :

‘¢We had lived up to our means, and I had
hardly a dollar in the world. I was always
independent, and could not accept offers of
assistance. I moved into cheap apartments,

eke out a living. I kept you at school until
you were past fifteen, although you wanted
to go to work as soon as misfortune over-
took us, and your few dollars have helped
to support us both.

‘*Now, Frank, the one faithful friend who
has been unremitting in his kindness since
the disappearance of your father, has been,

Markham. Financial aid I would not accept
from him, but he set on foot the search for
your father, he obtained remunerative em-

 

cus- |

| a professional life.
| cure to you those advantages which I am

 

ployment for me, he obtained for you the

situation you now hold, and has in every

possible way shown deep and true friendship.
Now, lately, he has spoken much about you.

‘*He looks upon you as a_ bright, capable
boy, and thinks that if you were given a
few years in college you might be fitted for
Frank, in order to se-

now able to command, and which will now
make it possible for you to strive for 1 pro-
fessional career,'I have married Mr. Mark-
ham.’’

‘*Mother,’’? said Frank, ‘‘it has hurt me
to see you work long hours for little money,
and for your sake Iam glad, knowing that
you need toil no more. So far as I am con-
cerned, however, I have no liking for a pro-
fessional career, and am satisfied to pass my
life in business. Moreover, I do not and
never did like Randolph Markham.’’

‘owhy?’?

‘*That I cannot say.
do not like him.’’

‘*He has been a faithful friend.’’

‘*That I will admit, but my dislike of the
man persists all the same. But I love you
dearly, mother mine, and for your sake I’ll
try to like the man you have married.’

‘*Spoken like my own brave boy,’’ said
his mother, kissing him. ‘‘Now, Frank, we
are going away—Mr. Markham and myself
—for a short trip, probably to Niagara
Falls, and will return in a few days. Dur-
ing my absence, a room will be fitted up for
you here, and until that time I look to you
to take care of the humble apartments I
have left.’’

‘*Very well, mother.’’

**T hardly think you will object to living
here, Frank, when you reflect that this is
the home of pretty Ida Clare.’’

And then, as Frank blushed furiously, his
mother laughed merrily.

Ida Clare was about Frank’s age.

She was an orphan, and the ward of Ran-
dolph Markham. A very warm friendship
existed between her and Frank Forrester.

‘*Well, Frank,’’ inquiringly said his
mother, ‘‘when we return from our trip, I
shall send for you to come here, and I hope
that you will try to make matters agree-
able.’’

‘*] will do anything for your sake,
mother,’’ he said, and after a little further
unimportant conversation he departed.

Just as he closed the door and was about
to descend the front steps, he caught sight
of two familiar figures outside the gate, and

Ionly know that I

| the tones of two equally familiar voices fell
| on his ear.

‘*You will not permit me to call?’’

‘*T do not desire your company, sir.’’

‘And you will not tell me your name?’’

‘‘That is quite unnecessary, it seems to
me. I am grateful to you for the service
you were able to render me, and I think
that my thanks should be sufficient.’’

‘*But I earnestly desire to become ac-
quainted with you.’’

‘‘Sir, you force me to say that the desire
is not mutual. I wish you would stand aside
from the gate and permit me to enter the
house.’’

‘<You are cruel,’?

Now Frank had recognized one speaker as
Ida Clare, and the other was known to him
as George Fielder, a clerk in the office of
Carhart, Dunham & Carhart.

Without any further delay, he ran down
the steps and approached the gate.

‘*Whether the young lady is cruel or not,
Fielder, I beg that you will stand away
from the gate and permit her to pass in.’’

And he looked Fielder in the eyes.

George Fielder was about twenty, tall and
well-formed. For a moment he clinched bis
fists and his eyes blazed wrathfully, while
Frank eyed him with cool unconcern.

Then the expression of his face changed,
and witb a gracious movement he tipped his
hat to Ida and then moved aside.

‘*T beg your pardon,’’ he said, in an hon-
est, manly style. ‘‘I have made a fool of
myself, and I am glad that I have been re-
called to my senses. Forrester, the young
lady will explain the matter to you. Again
I beg that you will pardon me, and now I’}l
be off.’’

He bowed again, and then walked rapidly
up the street.

‘‘Oh, Frank,’’ cried Ida,
you were here.’’

‘*What bas taken place?’’

‘*Why, I was crossing a street a few blocks
from here, and in an absent-minded way
was walking right under the hoofs of a team
of horses. This young man caught me,
dragged me back in time, and saved me
from being injured or killed.’’

‘‘ And he presumed upon that to force his
company on you to this spot?’

‘¢Yes, but you can see that he regretted
his lack of good breeding, and I’m sure he
apologized like a gentleman,”’

‘¢Well, we’ll drop him,”’ said Frank, ‘‘Ida,
we’ll soon be living under one roof,’’

‘¢Oh, I shall be so glad,’’ exclaimed the
pretty girl, and then she and Frank had
quite a talk about the matter.

When he parted from the girl Frank went
up town with the west side elevated road,
got off in the heart of the Murray Hill dis-
trict, and walked into the spacious building
occupied by the Oriental Athletic Club.

Here, for three evenings in each week, he
filled the position of assistant instructor, for
which he was paid a small salary. Professor
Brant, the instructor, was an old friend of

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Frank’s father, and this fact, added to
Frank’s early and unusual proficiency in
athletics, had secured the situation.

Passing through the brilliantly lighted
gymnasium, Frank hastened to the dress-
ing-rooms, laid aside his street dress, and
put on his tights, slippers, and sleeveless
shirt.

It could now be noted that this boy was
wonderfully deep-chested, that his shoulders
were very broad and strong, that his large,
strong neck ran into his shoulders like that
of a bull, and that his arms were so large,
so solid looking, so covered with knotty
muscles, that it was hard to believe that
they belonged to a lad of sixteen.

Professor Brant caught sight of him, and
came lightly across the floor.

‘‘Frank,’’ he said, ‘‘I’m very busy with
the horizontal-bars and flying-rings to-night,
and I’d like you to give a lesson in the box-
ing-room to anew member who wants to
brush up his knowledge of the manly art.’’

‘All right,’? said Frank, and walked
along with the professor to the room de-
voted to boxing and fencing.

‘‘He says he usec to take lessons,’’ con-
tinued Professor Brant, ‘‘but he’s somewhat
out of practices now, and wants to regain
some of his old proficiency. Ah, good-even-
ing, sir,’’ he continued, nodding to a young
man who stood near the door as they entered
the boxing-room. ‘‘I’m too busy to attend
to you this evening, but my assistant will
teach you.’’ d

And Frank Forrester was surprised to see
that George Fielder stood before him.

CHAPTER III.
FRANK IS FORCED TO FIGHT.

fe HY, good-evening, Forrester,”
WAY, pleasantly said Fielder.
‘(The same to you,’’ politely re-

e turned Frank, and then took
down the boxing-gloves from a shelf and
handed a pair to Fielder.

‘And so you teach, eh?’’

‘‘T try to,’? was the modest reply. ‘‘Do
those gloves fit?’’

‘*Yes, very well.’’

‘* All ready?’?

“Y e6.7°

‘‘Very well, then. Guard.” — ; ;

Looking like a young gladiator in his
sleeveless suit, Frank Forrester threw him-
self into an approved position.

Fielder did likewise. He had put on a reg-
ulation gymnasium suit, and being both tall
and broad, looked quite formidable.

‘*Wait!’’ critically said Frank. ‘‘ Your
right is not held properly, and would bea
very poor guard for your stomach. Your
feet are too close together, and your right
foot is not turned out enough.”’

‘Oh, I'll show you that I can box very
well with all these defects,’’ said Fielder,
and then, without a moment’s delay, struck
out at Frank with his left, caught him upon
the side of the neck, and turned him half-
way round before he could recover his bal-
ance.

Frank braced himself with a swift effort,
and looked the other in the face.

When he saw the malignant light in
George Fielder’s eyes, and noted the sneer
on his face, he understood the situation.

Fielder meant to revenge himself upon
our hero for the latter’s interference in Ida
Clare’s behalf.

That it was his intention to thrash Frank,
to pound him unmercifully under pretense
of obtaining instruction, could be read in
bis face.

Frank recognized this at once, and when
Fielder made a rush the youthful instructor
was ready for him.

Fielder struck swiftly.

The blow was aimed at Frank’s face.

The latter threw back his head, and the
blow fell short. ita

The force of the stroke carried Fielder
forward to a point a little over his balance.

At the very instant when he was on his
toes, Frank struck a swift blow of the ‘‘up-
per cut?’ variety, caught his opponent under
the chin, lifted him fairly from the floor,
and dropped him in a confused heap.

Frank’s eyes were blazing, but he man-
aged to control himself, and in a quiet man-
ner said to the prostrate boxer: }

“Mr, Fielder, you forget yourself. This
club teaches boxing in order that gentlemen
may be enabled to protect themselves against
rowdies and bullies. It does not aim to turn
out prize-fighters, and ‘knock-outs’ are not
considered. In this room no blow is landed
any harder than is necessary to show that
an effective result Could be obtained if the
Same blow were delivered with full force. I
advise you to confine yourself to mere
efforts for scientific points, and I shall do
the same.’’

During the delivery of this little lecture,
George Fielder had picked himself up from
the floor, and now he favored Frank with a
critical survey, looking our hero over from
top to toe.

Then he surveyed his own proportions.

He was older, he was taller, he was heav-
ier than Frank Forrester, and he evidently
decided the comparison in his own favor.

‘* All right; here goes for scientific points,
as you say,’’ he sneeringly remarked, and
With a wicked light in his eyes, advanced
pon the youthful instructor,

 

GooDdD NEWS.

Now, Frank didn’t like the situation at all.

Not that he was afraid, for he would have |

faced two opponents as fearlessly as he now
faced this one, but he looked upon fighting
as brutal, degrading, and something that
lowered civilized beings to the level of the
ignorant savage.

But he was in for a fight!

That he could realize at once, and it was
now a question of whipping George Fielder,
or being whipped by him.

So Frank wasted no time nor opportunity.

Fielder struck at him heavily.

Frank blocked the blow, and returned it,
catching his opponent on the right eye and
knocking him down.

He was scarcely down when he was up
again; and made a fierce rush, his eyes
gleaming with hate and rage.

Again he struck out, and again was the
blow cleverly blocked and returned by the
cool, hard-hitting young athlete, and with
the other eye now damaged, George Fielder
went down with a crash.

He was a plucky fellow, however, and in
a moment was on his feet again and rushing
at Frank.

The latter, watchful,. wary, cool, and col- |

]

 

lected, again evaded the heavy lunge made |

by the infuriated Fielder, struck him fully

on the nose with a flush left-handed hit, and |

sent him to the floor again.

Fielder’s two eyes were now discolored
and rapidly closing, his nose was flattened,
and the blood that poured from it was stain-
ing the front of his shirt.

He was, in fact, badly used up, and yet
he had not inflicted the slightest damage on
his clever, hard-hitting enemy, who, with
his left foot advanced as solidly as a stone
column and @ confident light in his eyes,
had battered his bigger and older foe with-
out moving from his tracks.

The noise of the fighting had been heard,
and the door of the boxing-room was thrown
open to admit Professor Brant anda dozen
members of the club.

‘‘What’s this, fighting?’’ demanded Brant,
and he glanced from the prostrate and
bleeding Fielder to the triumphant assistant
instructor. ‘‘Why, I am surprised.’

‘So was I when I found that Mr. Fielder
meant to thrash me,’’ quietly returned our
hero. ‘‘I’m no fighter, and I am paid by
this club to give general athletic instruc-
tion, but when a pupil starts in to thrash
me, then I’m going to descend to his level
and be as big a brute as he is.”’

Professor Brant nodded his head in silent
approval, and so did some of the members
of the club. Others took the much damaged
Fielder away to the lavatory.

‘Tried to ‘do’ you, Frank, eb?’’ softly
whispered Professor Brant.

‘“Yes, and to save myself I had te ‘do’
him.’?’

‘¢What was the cause?’’

‘*A little grudge about a girl,’’ flushingly
answered Forrester.

‘‘Then you’re doubly right,’’ gallantly
said Professor Brant. ‘‘Well, suppose you
look after. the Indian club swingers.’’

‘¢ All right,’’ cheerfully said Frank, and
away he went.

He attended to his duties until ten o’clock,
and then went home and to bed.

The next morning when he went to the
office he looked in vain for George Fielder.
He was not at his accustomed post.

The morning hours flew by,
Fielder did not appear.

At eleven o’clock one of the clerks touched
Frank on the arm.

‘‘Forrester, Mr. Dunham wishes to see
you in the private office.’’

Away went Frank to the private office,
and was there met by the managing partner,
whose pleasant face was now darkened by a
severe expression.

‘‘Frank,’?’? said he, ‘‘I never suspected
that I had a pugilistic ‘slugger’ amoug my
employees, and I should feel like dispensing
with the services of such a person.”’

‘¢+Which would be quite right,’’ was the
calm, respectful reply. ‘$But why do you
say this to me, sir?’’ 4 4

‘¢Because I have sent up town to inquire
into the cause of Fielder’s absence, and the
méssenger reports that he found him with a
damaged nose, two discolored eyes, and a
cut lip, making it impossible for him to
leave the house. Fielder stated that it was
all done by you.”’

‘*Is that all he said?’’

‘‘T believe so. Is that true?’’

‘¢Yes, sir, it is true.’’ :

And the manly lad looked quietly at his
employer.

‘*You battered him like that?’’

‘¢-Yes, sir.’’

‘*And you don’t consider that lowers you
to the grade of the pugilistic ‘slugger?’ ’’

‘“No, sir. don’t,’? warmly returned
Frank. ‘‘You know my motto, Mr. Dun-
ham: I shall tell you the truth and fear-
lessly. I have a fair all-around knowledge
of athletics, and to help out my income I
took the position of night assistant instruc-
tor at the Oriental Athletic Club. Last
night George Fielder came there for a box-
ing lesson, and it became my duty to in-
struct him. Instead of boxing with me like
a gentleman, he started in to whip me. _ I
knocked him down, and then warned bim
fairly, but he got on his feet again, rushed

and still

 

‘*But why should he want to whip you?”’

True to his motto, Frank answered:

‘* Because I stopped his unwelcome atten-
tions to a girl friend, and he was after re-
venge.’”’

Mr. Dunham could not restrain the smile
that appeared upon his face.

‘*Oh, there’s a girl in the case,’’ he said,
with an intelligent nod of the head. ‘‘Well,
that explains a good deal. Well, Frank,
you’ve evidently told the truth, and the
whole truth, and although I have more than
an ordinary interest in Fielder, I cannot
utter one word of censure of the course you
have pursued. Fighting is a disgusting and
degrading matter, but boxing, like wrest-
ling, is a splendid muscular and mental sci-
ence, and if I had a dozen boys they should
all be taught to defend themselves from the
fistic attacks of brutes and bullies. How-
ever, Frank, I trust the matter will end
here.’’

‘‘So far as I am concerned, the matter
ended last night,’? was Frank’s reply. ‘‘I
merely defended myself then and that is all
I should do in the future. I have no score to
settle, and merely want to be let alone,’”’

‘‘That is fair enough,’’? admitted Mr.
Dunham, and then dismissed him.

Two days later, George Fielder, his face
looking quite natural again, entered the
office, and at once walked up to Frank, his
hand outstretched in a friendly manner.

‘‘Shake, Forrester,’’ he said, in an open,
mably style that was charming. ‘‘I admit
that I was wrong and that vou gave me no
more than I[ deserved, but I was mad about
that little affair of the same evening—you
know what I mean—and in my anger I acted
like a bully and a fool.’?

‘*There is my hand,’’? said Frank, ‘‘and
that ends the matter.’’

Fielder wrung his hand heartily, and then
went to his desk, while Frank, clever,
shrewd, long-headed Frank, muttered:

‘*T don’t forget that you can play the gen-
tleman as well as the bully, and I’ll keep
my eye open all the same. You apologized
like a first-class young man the other night
after annoying Ida Clare, and an hour later
tired to smash me with your fists. You may
be sincere, but I’ll be on my guard for all
that.’

The next day, Saturday, the office closed
up at noon, and Frank was just departing
when a girl who was coming along the street
ran up to him with a little hysterical ery.

**Oh, Frank !’’

It was Ida Clare, and there were tears in
her pretty eyes.

‘‘Oh, Frank—something  terrible—your
poor mother——’’

She sobbed hysterically, and the blood re-
ceded from Frank’s face as a great fear
seized upon his heart.

What had happened?

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

A STRUGGLE FOR A PENNANT ;

Bob Brown, the Pride of the Nine.

Scent th abnemcade

A BASE-BALL STORY.

es

By HARRY T. COOK.

ene

 

(“A STRUGGLE FOR A PENNANT” was commenced
in No. 282. Back numbers can be obtained of all
News Agents.) ‘

 

CHAPTER VII.

THE FAIRHAVENS MEET THEIR WATERLOO
AFTER A MOST DESPERATE AND PRO-
LONGED BATTLE.

S may be expected, the Ridgefield
boys were completely crestfallen and
crushed. Their fond hope of ‘‘bear-
ing away’’ that beautiful pennant

had vanished entirely. All their dreams of
returning home victorious had melted away,
and their journey was anything but a pleas-
ant one. Nevertheless, there were one or
two of their number who were not quite so
dejected as the rest, among them Frank
Durand and Ned Ellis. These, on looking
back to the events of the day, saw a gleam
of hope in the final battle which was to be
played on the ensuing Saturday. Certainly,
they had met with great misfortune in the
disabling of Bob, but even with his loss they
had made a good fight, they had only beer
beaten by one run, not nearly such an ig-
nominious defeat as they had given the
‘‘cracks’’ of Fairhaven in the first game.

So, after talking the situation over among
themselves the whole party began to gain
spirits and become more cheerful; and to
talk of the splendid manner in which Frank
had taken to pitching in Bob’s place. Frank
had plenty of pluck and a strong arm, and
had not flinched or flustered in the trying
moment, but had kept his balls right over
the plate, and it was only by very hard
work that the Fairhavens had succeeded in
scoring arun in ‘the eighth and ninth in-
nings. Then again, just to think of that
magnificent home run made by Sam Pins-
low’s terrific hit!

Frank had gained a host of friends and
admirers, and many of the knowing ones

in to thrash me, and, in self-defense, I had|had declared he was ‘‘the right sort of

to thrash him. That is the truth.’’

stuff’’ for the making of a first-class pitcher.

 

4531

The defeat in the last game, and being
short of Bob’s help, tended to make the others
work hard at practice during the days yet
remaining before the final struggle.

It had been arranged that the substitute
chosen in Fairhaven after Bob’s accident,
should play in case Bob continued unable.

Now the great day for the ‘‘tug-of-war’?
has arrived, and, oh, what a day! Nothing
could have been better; bright sunshine, and
not too hot; indeed, a regular ‘‘base-ball
day.’? Our heroes were all stirring early;
what hopes.and fears alternately filled each
breast!

But poor Bob! His hand had been more
seriously hurt than. had been at first sup-
posed, for, although the wound had well
nigh healed, it continued swollen, and at
times pained him very much; and from ap-
pearances it seemed he would not be in con-
dition to play with his comrades in the final
struggle, in which case the fate of the game,
as far as Ridgefield was concerned, would
rest on the shoulders of Frank. The latter,
however, had many good points; he was far
from being an inferior pitcher, he was a
good base-runner, and a splendid batter, but
he lacked that quality for which Bob was
noted, ‘‘coolness;’’ he was apt to get ‘‘rat-
ee at which times he lost control of the

all.

But he had practiced faithfully under
Bob’s ‘‘coaching,’’ and his captain was de-
lighted at the improvement he showed, ac-
knowledging he was the ‘‘right stuff,’?’

The time for the game had been set for
four o’clock, sharp, and as that hour draws
near the grounds and grand-stand begin.
rapidly to fill up, and for some time before
the arrival of the appointed hour, there was
not left standing room. The pavilion was
packed, among the vast throng being many
ladies, and the bright colors of their dresses
gave a handsome appearance to the scene.

At last the long-looked-for hour is at
hand; the two nines are on the field, look-
ing immense in their natty uniforms; ex-
pectation, hope, and wonderment can be
read on the countenance of all. The excite-
ment is intense; bets are offered, and taken,
but the odds—well, odds cannot be got—
even, or no bet—few were made. ‘

The band plays—the coin is tossed in the
air. This time it is the visiting team who
wins the choice, and they prefer to go to
the bat.

Bob! poor Bob! he is there, too, but not
as a player; he does not feel up to it. So it
devolves on Frank to ‘‘twirl’’ the ball.

And right well he does it, showing the
thorough training he has undergone during
the past week.

Inning after inning was played, but do
what they would, neither party could score,
and it.looked as if neither side would score.
Each fought the other for all he was worth;
our boys played like heroes, as they were.
The Fairhavens also played a magnificent
game. They were) not so confident as pre-
viously, and did their work more coolly and
cautiously.

The sixth inning for the Fairhavens had
been reached. Here Frank began to show his
weak point. Thestrain on him began to tell;
the speed which at the start had been like
lightning, began to slacken, and his balls to
have less weight.

The ‘‘cracks’’ were not slow in noticing
this, and they were too well experienced
even to venture a wild joke; yet they were
not slow in taking the advantage; they
began ‘‘tucking’’ them up, and the result
was that at the end of the sixth inning the
score stood Fairhaven, 2; Ridgefield, 0.

‘*Poor Ridgefield!’’ was repeated more
than once by the admirers of the ‘‘idols.’?

But Ridgefield did not want their pity—
ironical as it was. The boys were made of
sterner stuff than to give up.

‘While there is life there is hope,’’? had
been instilled into them after the second
game of the previous week. There were
three more innings yet. What wouldn’t they
do in those three innings?

In the seventh inning two more runs were
added by the Fairhavens.

Poor old Frank had completely lost con-
trol of the ball; he could not keep his head
as cool as he had begun.

The spectators also saw that he was
‘‘done,’’ and raised a ‘‘howl’’ to take him
out of the box. They saw the pennant slip-
ping away from their eyes. But who could
be put in his place? That was the great
question. It was one of the weak points
about the Ridgefield nine; excepting Frank
Durant, they had no player who could re-
lieve Bob at pitching.

But just at this instant some one in the
stand shouted for ‘‘Bob,’? and from that
moment the cry was taken up, ‘‘Bob! Bob!”’
to finish the game, and it certainly looked
as if a riot would occur unless Bob did as
requested.

This was a supreme moment to our hero.
Yet, at the popular call, though at great
disadvantages and odds, he consented, and
amid cheers upon cheers, took his place in
the box, after donning his uniform.

Not another run was made by the Fair-
havens, and in the ninth inning the Ridge-
field boys, having recovered confidence now
their leader was once more at their head,
succeeded, through indomitable pluck and
perseverance, in tieing their opponents.

Then the roars and cheers which rent the
air! Ridgefield had never heard or witnessed

 
   
 
 
  
  
 
   
 
   
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
   
 
  
   
  
  
   
     
   
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
    
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
    
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
     
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 

é i

af

 

 

4532

such before. The ladies waved their hand-
kerchiefs; the boys whistled and yelled, the
men cheered; the excitement was at its ut-
most tension. Never had they witnessed
such ball playing before.

The other two games bad been pronounced
excellent, but this, this was superb!

Here were the ‘‘ Ridgefield Kids’’ (as they
had been called) tie with the ‘‘crack ama-
teur champions of the State’’ in the ninth
inning of the final game!

Another inning must be played, and an-
other, until the ‘‘tie’’ is broken.

Such was the feeling of the onlookers
when the tenth inning commenced with
Frank Stevens at the bat, and our hero in
the pitcher’s box.

Again the struggle is resumed.

Bob’s first ball plainly told the Fair-
havens they had another and different class
of pitcher against them, even if nothing else
had done so. -

Straight and swift it came, cutting the
center of the plate.

‘One strike!’’ called the umpire.

The next ball wasa fellow of the first, and
the next likewise, and Frank after fanning
thin air, had three strikes called on him,
and disgusted he retired, while the crowd
cheered, evidently hoping the tide of for-
tune had changed.

Meanwhile, Frank had been succeeded by
Captain Lawson, who met with prolonged
roars from his admirers (and he had many),
for he was really a whole-souled fellow, and
a jolly companion.

But fortune had decidedly turned; ‘‘two
strikes’’ were called on him, much to his
yexation, and people began to say ‘‘what’s
the matter with Dan?’’ but he braced him-
self up cleverly for the next ball.

By this time Bob’s old spirit was roused,
and he was upon his mettle. The next ball
he sent in was one of those dangerous curves
peculiar to him, and which boded no good to
the batter. Quick as a flash, on it came,
and Dan, throwing all his strength forward,
struck.

‘Crack! whiz!’’ went the ball, straight up
to the clouds until it became a mere speck !

Bob now saw his chance—if he could only
catch it! ’T'would be the saving of the pen-
nant and the honor for his team! Bracing
himself, he saw the ball descending; it
seemed asif his life depended on that ball.
A thousand different thoughts flashed
through his mind, but independent of all,
forgetful even of his lame hand, he kept his
eye fixed on the descending ball. He ran
desperately a few paces, but at the critical
moment he sprang forward, clutching the
sphere with his hands!

Such a cheer as rent the air at that mo-
ment has seldom been heard at any ball
game before. What a catch! and the odds
against him! Ridgefield now certainly had
a better show than ever! Two men out and
no increase in the score!

Now comes Peter Hanks, grinning con-
temptuously-at Bob, as he took his place by
the plate.

After letting one or two balls go by as if
studying them, Peter launched out, making
a hit toward center field, and managed to
make second safely. This brought Paul
Dawson to the*bat. He made a splendid
drive of the first ball he received to left
field. Now it looked like another run for the
‘‘cracks,’’? and their friends vociferously
cheered, but, no! the flying ball was nimbly
picked up by Ned Ellis, and as nimbly
thrown to Sam, reaching the home plate
before Peter, quick runner as he was; con-
sequently, the side was out without scoring,
although they had shown their best form in
the play.

Surely fortune favors the brave! Can
our boys make one more run and secure the
coveted trophy and the championship?

‘*Only one run,’’ thought they all, ‘‘and
the honor of Ridgefield is redeemed.’’

Oh, how their spirits rose! Could it be
done? For their opponents would surely
play their finest.

The little ‘‘dreamer,’’ the ‘‘Prophet’’
Jack was first at the bat. He gave one
earnest look at Bob as he stepped to the
plate, and was cheered with the words:
‘‘Tet her go, Jack!’’ which revived his
courage, and completely knocked out the
remembrance of the dreams,

A short ground ball sent him to first, when
he was succeeded at the bat by Ned Ellis.

‘‘Now for a homer, boys,’’? said he,
smiling. ‘‘That’ll save further trouble.’’

But ‘‘homers,’’ as he called them, were
not around, with such pitching as Frank
Stevens was giving. Ned had to consider it
an honor to havé three strikes called on him
under the circumstances.

The next batter, our triend Bob, did good
work, and he was not long about it, either,
The very first ball he received he seemed to
take in from the instant it left the pitcher’s
hand, and with a fierce ‘‘lunge,’’ throwing
all his strength into his arms, he let drive,
catching the ball fairly about four or five
inches from the,end of the bat—away it
went, sailing clear over the right fielder’s
head to the fence. Oh, what rapture filled
the hearts of our boys! Away sped the
‘‘dreamer,’’ quickly followed by Bob, and
they reached the home plate almost simul-
taneously, scoring two for the Ridgefields.

The cheers, the roars, the thunders of ap-.

plause that went up as Jack and Bob reached
home cannot well be told. The winning run

COUT

had been made by the ‘‘bird of ill-omen,’’
but the game had been saved by the ‘'pride
of the nine,’’ for if Bob had not agreed to
pitch the balance of. the game, the pennant
had surely been lost!

Thus was won and lost the last game of
the great struggle. How elated were our
*‘boys!’’ They showered blessings upon their
leader, for he had saved them! He was
their pride, the ‘‘pride of the nine.”’

Very little more remains to be told, dear
readers. Congratulations were showered
from all quarters. Our heroes were met at
the grounds and escorted through the town
by a committee of citizens anda brass band,
and conducted to the hall where they met
their dear old friend and first supporter,
Mr. Maynard, who heartily congratulated
them on their magnificent victory after a
hard-fought battle.

‘‘But never say die, boys,’’ he added. ‘‘I
knew you were game and would win the
pennant, or I would not have put confidence
in you, and promised you what I did.’’

And right well he kept that promise.

The ‘‘Ridgefield Kids,’’ changed into the
‘*Ridgefield Champions,’’? now own a club-
house second to none in the State, together
with grounds properly laid out for all kinds
of athletic sports, and all through the gener-
osity of Mr. Maynard, who had confidence
in ‘‘Bob Brown, the Pride of the Nine.’’

(THE END.)
> 0--e

‘E HINGS.

 

datas iyi

EDITED BY DAVID PARKS.

aT was suggested to me lately, in looking
Hf over the notices in the club column and
observing that most of the clubs were
25> devoted to correspondence, and ex-
change, that it might be a good idea to sug-
gest to the boys the formation of different
kinds of clubs, with various special objects in
view. These clubs would necessarily be local,
but there is no reason why they should not
be found in all the large cities and towns.
A elub-room for most.of the suggestions I
have to make would be essential, but the
cost of this could be defrayed out of the ini-
tiation fees and dues. Then, too, if you can
get your parents and friends interested, they
will undoubtedly be willing to help you sub-
stantially.

The first suggestion I have to make is that
of a Gymnasium Club, for the practice of

SWEDISH GYMNASTICS.

Now, in the first place, to describe to you
the apparatus, the larger part of which can
be easily made by boys who are ordinarily
clever with carpenter’s tools.

Unlike most other gymnastic systems, the
body .in the Swedish is not the slave of the
apparatus, but the apparatus ministers to
the needs of the body and its development,
and to a large extent its form is determined
by them—a distinction with a tolerably large
amount of difference. The apparatus consists
of the following pieces: (1) boom; (2) wall
ladder; (8) long benches; (4) ropes or poles;
(5) vaulting-horse or pedestals; (6) jumping-
stand and rope; (7) horizontal wriggling
ladder; (8) vertical ditto; (9) boom saddles;
(10) double boom; (11) slanting rope; (12)
pin ladder; (13) mattresses.

An attempt is here made to give them ac-
cording to their degree of importance and
all-round utility. In order to enjoy the full
benefits of the system, it is not at all neces-
sary to have all.the instruments named, only
those that allow the greatest variety of like
and unlike gymnastic movement are essen-
tial. They are the boom, the wall ladder,
the long bench, the ropes, the vaulting-
horse, and the jumping-stand and rope. A
clever teacher could dispense with all save
the boom, but there is no merit in so doing
when the others are to be had, any more
than there is in fiddling on one string when
you have four to raise bad feelings with.
The above-named selection of six will, owing
to space, be the only instruments described.

Tur Boom.—This is the most important
piece of furniture in the Swedish gymna-
sium; with it, as has been indicated, you
can do almost everything which goes to make
a full dose of this kind of work. The boom is
a wooden beam, twelve to eighteen feet long,
about six inches wide, and between three and
four in¢hes thick. The ends, which are left
in the squared condition, slide freely up and
down between double uprights fastened se-
curely to opposite walls. Hach double up-
right is ten feet high, and is pierced all the
way down with holesa quarter-inch in diam-
eter and two apart. The boom is raised and
lowered by asimple block and rope tackle.
A block is fastened to the head of each pair
of uprights. A rope is fastened to each end
of the boom, and then rove through the
block above it. On the under side of the
boom, near each end, is fastened a chain end-
ing with astout iron pin. These pins are
used to support the boom and regulate its
height by passing below its ends through the
holes in the uprights. The upper or grip
edge of the boom is not circularly rounded,
but parabolically curved. The under edge is
. better flat: when so, the boom reversed can
; be used for another class of movement, viz.,
balance walking.

 

 

 

 

NEWS.

 

The peculiar form of the upper edge does
away with wrist work in all exercises of lift-
ing body to bar, and, by compelling the
gymnast to depend wholly upon the muscles
of the chest, shoulders, and upper arms for
the execution’ of these movements, secures
the greatest possible degree of chest expan-
sion while they are being performed.

Note.—If a boy possesses the common or
garden kind of bar, there is no reason why
he should not use it in lieu of the correct
thing for breasting the bar. A good thick
broomstick, with its ends squared and fitting
into slots made high up in a door frame, is
not half a bad economical substitute for a
boom in commencing this class of work. A
bar so fixed, and with the door shut, may be
utilized for abdominal movements, as you
will find out further on. But please place
your stick high enough, or, better, take it
down when done with, otherwise there will
be a development of sore heads.

THE WaLL LappER.—This is the next im-
portant piece of apparatus. It consists of
stout upright joists—10 ft. high, 6 in. wide,
and 2 in. thiek—placed 3 ft. apart and fast-
ened edgewise to the walls of the gymna-
sium. Let into these uprights, flush with
their forward edge, and stretching across the
intervals between them, are horizontal rails,
5 in. apart, and of small second and third
dimensions—2 in. by 1.

The top rail stands out a couple of inches
beyond the rest, and is supported by projec-
tions at the head of the joists. The other rails
are firmly kept in place’ by long strips of
wood put over them and screwed to the faces
of the joists. Before fixing, the rails must
have their sharp edges well rounded off.

Lone BrncuEs.—These are placed in front
of the wall ladder. They are 9 ft. long (one
for every three stalls or standing places) and
a foot high. The seats of the benches are
better when slightly convex. A cross section
of a proper seat plank would show the major
half of a very straightened ellipse. The feet
may be underpinned by a long bar to make
the bench stronger and steadier.

Note on the Wall Ladder.—The joists of
the wall ladder may be utilized for support-
ing the boom by simply duplicating conven-
iently placed and opposite joists, and then
drilling holes in them for the boom pins to
pass through. It is impossible to suggest
anything in place of the wall ladder which
could be used for home work, except—the
wall ladder. A wall will do for all the move-
ments not necessitating holding, performed
on the wall ladder. Any low stool or has-
sock does instead of bench.

THE Roprs,.—These are just the ordinary
gymnasium ropes, an inch and a half in
diameter, smooth-stranded, and suspended
from a safety snap-hook fixed to ceiling. A
stand of six or more, one anda half feet
apart, would be sufficient for any ordinary
sized club. If these are hung in a plane
parallel to and a few feet away from the
boom, they can be used for rope-leaping over
the boom. The length should be about fifteen
feet, and the ends ought to nearly touch the
ground. Ropes are better than poles; they
give more work and a better hold. No knots
in them are permitted.

THe Horse.—The Swedish vaulting-horse
is not quite the same as the American spe-
cies. Its back is hollower, and its build is
sturdier. Its length is six, and it is greatest
breadth and thickness two feet each.

The Swedish horse is covered from head to
tail by a padded leather coat, which comes
some way down the sides, is removable, and
when in place is secured with leather straps
passing about the legs. Across the saddle
part are very low pommels made by sewing
up two rounded ridges in the coat. Nospring-
board is needed, as such are not found in the
natural world, which is precisely the reason
why the Swedes have abolished them. A bar-
rel, loaded with gravel, and standing ona
stout barrel stand, makes a good home prac-
tice horse for youngsters to begin on. A
Saratoga trunk placed on top of a strong
chest, and both seeurely lashed to the floor
by ropes passing through the handles, con-
stitutes a very good vaulting-buck for .older
lads to use at home.

Tur JUMPING-STAND.—For this, instead of
a wand or lath, the Swedes use a thin rope
weighted at both ends, and with a small flag
sewn on the middle; this flag serves as an
eye-mark for the jumper.

A mattress is needed for alighting on in
the jumping and vaulting movements. A few
large and long-piled cocoanut-fiber mats,
however, will do equally as well.

No special dress is needed. Coat, vest, col-
lar, tie, braces, and boots off, India-rubber
soled shoes on, and shirt collar loose—there
you are, fit to learn anything in Swedish
gymuastics. No belts are allowed; if your
trousers don’t fit in the waist, get a strap
put on the back of them.

MOVEMENTS WITH APPARATUS,

The course of a Swedish gymnastic lesson
may be graphically described by a trajec-
tory—the curve a missile makes when pro-
jected obliquely upward. The action com-
mences quietly, increases in stress and sever-
ity until the vaulting and jumping are fin-
ished, and then gently and shortly subsides.
Here, and there are intervals of comparative
rest, wherein the heart and lungsare quieted
and made ready for the next round of move-
ments.

A scheme of exercise, to be effective, must

 

have a unity and sequence of movement
which are in strict accordance to the laws
which regulate right development.

Each part must be attacked in turn—that
is, in the order of functional importance and
need of development of the part; each part
must have its due share of work. In order
to give each part its right quantity of exer-
cise, it is necessary to isolate it from the
rest of the body. Apparatus brings about
this isolation by affording firm points of at-
tachment and areas of support to those por-
tions of the physique not needed tor work;
they are thrown out of work as it were. This
is called muscular isolation by some and
localizing the effort by others; both terms
mean just about the same thing. A lot of
energy is thus prevented from being dissi-
pated in what is merely the static or sup-
porting work of the muscles, and put into
purely kinetic or active work, the work for
the moment needed. For instance, a boy’s
legs and loins are all right, but he wants to
improve his arms, shoulders, and chest.
Well, if he wishes to have a good result as
soon as possible, he will do his putting-up,
bell-work, sitting bolt upright with his back
well braced against a straight-backed chair.

3y this means those parts of his body not -
requiring special attention are almost wholly
relieved, and the effort is strictly localized
or confined to the region where it is wanted.

This last paragraph is a digression, but
not an unuseful one, as it explains and sug-
gests. Acting on this principle of localiza-
tion, much quicker results can be gained by
the muscularly invalid.

The chief use, then, of apparatus is to as-
sist movement, and not, except in the cases
of the vaulting-horse and jumping-stand, to
present obstacles to be surmounted or cir-
cumvented by feats of physical subtlety and
address, though the ability to accomplish
such feats is not to be despised.

Next week I will tell you how to use the
apparatus described to the best advantage.

> + > —
[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form,[

CENTER-BOARD JIM:

OR,

The Secret of the Sargasso Sea

 

 

A YACHTING STORY.

BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,

’

Author of “Friends or Foes,” “Cadet Carey,’
‘*Won at West Point,” etc., etc.

nessa

(“CENTER-BOARD JIM’? was commenced in No, 281,
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER X.

THE PLOT SUCCEEDS.
“qm turned and saw a lad of apparently
Wf his own age standing at his elbow. He
- was shabbily clad, and from the ap-
© pearance of attenuation and the re-
markable leanness of his face, it was evident,
that he and good living were not on speak-
ing terms. :

He bowed apologetically as Jim eyed him.

‘*Did yer touch me jest now?’’ asked the
latter.

‘Yess?

‘*Well, wot do yer want, sonny?’’

‘*Is your name Jim?’’ asked the boy.

‘‘Yes, dat’s me handle. How did yer
guess it?’’ replied the ex-mascot, in surprise.

‘*A gentleman asked me to tell you that
he wished to see you at once. He is waiting
at No. 13 Norfolk street, Strand.’’

‘*Wot’s dat? A gentleman wants ter see
me? Whois it? Wot’s his name?’’

‘‘Raymond Hungerford.’’

‘‘Wot! Mr. Hungerford? Why, I only left
him half an hour ago. Where’s dis Norfolk
street, sonny?’?’

‘*7’ll show it to you. Come this way.’’

‘‘Hadn’t we better take er cab? How fur
is it?’’

‘Only a few blocks, We can easily walk
the distance.”’

The two boys set out together. While
striding along Jim attempted to find a rea-
son for the unexpected summons. He could
only imagine that Mr. Hungerford had sud-
denly found need for him. The address
given was probably one of the places he had
intended visiting. f

This settled to his satisfaction, Jim
turned his attention to his guide. There was
something in the boy’s face that attracted
him. He was shrewd enough to see that he
was intelligent and of fairly good education.
This fact certainly fitted ill with his garip
of poverty. t

‘*T say,’’ finally remarked Jim, ‘‘do yer}
live in Lunnon?’’

‘* At present, yes,’? was the evasive reply.

‘*Tt an’t yer home, then?’?

‘‘No, I haven’t any,’’ replied the stranger.

There was a certain catch in his voicé
which appealed directly to Jim’s synf-
pathies. That sacred word ‘‘home,’’ one of
the most inspiring in any language, was ale
most an unknown quantity to him. Broug‘bt
up as he had been, driven about from pillar
to post, forced to look to his own wits fir

  
 
 

    

  

 

 

    

 

sey we

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ect

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C+#OOD

 

his daily bread, at ar age when most lads
are yet in pinafores, it is no wonder that
the pathetic confession of the strange youth
had its effect.

‘*So you an’t got no home,’’ said Jim,
softly. ‘‘How’s dat? Is yer folks dead?’’

They walked on side by side for a full
block before a reply came. Jim did not
glance at his companion’s face, but he in-
stinctively felt that his question, asked from
sheer good-nature, had called upa_ train of
painful memories. In his rough way he tried
to redeem the mistake.

‘tNever mind, sonny,’’ he remarked,
hastily. ‘‘Yer needn’t answer dat. But tell
me, wot yer doing in dis big city? Can’t
yer git work?’’

‘*My parents are both gone. We lived in
Canterbury, down in the County of Kent.
My father was the steward of a large estate
down there when he—when he died. We
had a little money, but it was lost in the
failure of a building association, I stayed
there after home was broken up as long as
I could, then I came here to look for work.’’

‘And yer couldn’t find any?’’ said Jim,
deeply interested.

‘No, I have been here several months
now. Now andthen I make a couple of
sixpences running errands or holding horses,
but it is very seldom. Iam glad I met the
gentleman this morning. He promised me a
shilling if I would find you and deliver the
message.’’

‘‘Mr. Hungerford is mighty liberal,’’ re-
marked Jim. ‘‘But he has lots er dough.
Yer wouldn’t t’ink such er young man was
worth hundreds and thousands of wot yer
call pounds, would yer?’?’

‘‘Young man?’’ echoed the strange lad,
inquiringly.

“Yes. Mr. Hungerford an’t more’n
twenty-two. Why? Did yer t’ink he was
older than dat?’’ "

‘‘Yes, I thought so,’’ was the reply, given
absently, then the speaker muttered to him-
self :

“Twenty-two? There must bea mistake
somewhere. The man who sent me on the
message is not a day under nine-and-thirty.
His tawny mustache had gray hairs in it.
What can——’’ ;

‘*Wot’s yer name, sonny, if I may ask?’’
interrupted Jim, at that juncture.

‘‘Buxton, Harold Buxton. And yours?’’

For the first time in his eventful life the
ex-mascot felt embarrassed. His name?
Never before had he even recognized the
need of a complete cognomen. The lad by
his side, poor as he was, possessed a good,
honest, family name—while he—no, it would
never do to confess it!

_ He was on the point of coining a word—of
borrowing for the moment some well-sound-
ing Christian name when Howard Gould’s
admonition suddenly recurred to him. To
do so would be to lie. Had he not promised
that he would be a man?

- Men don’t tell whoppers,’’ he said, men-
tally, ‘‘and I won’t. Jim, brace up. Now’s
de time ter begin. Own up even if it’s
mighty hard.’’ ,

“You ask wot my name is, eh?’’ he
added, aloud. ‘‘I guess Jim is erbout all de
handle I can claim.’’

Harold laughed.

‘‘T presume you do not care to tell it,”
he said, easily. ‘*All right. We won’t quar-
rel about it. You are an American, are you
not???’ }

“(Prom de ground up,’’ replied Jim, glad
to change the subject. ‘‘I’m wot you people
_ eall er Yank, and I’m proud of it. Dey er

_ de first on dis earth, and I guess de English

come next.’’

‘«Thanks,’’ laughed Harold. ‘‘It is not a
_ very creditable thing to be the tail of a kite,
but when the kite is the Stars and Stripes
there is some glory in it.’’ :

‘‘Put like er Philadelphia lawyer!’’ ex-
claimed Jim, admiringly. ‘‘Isay, yer ought
to git er job with yer education. An’t dere

no places open in de banks around here?’’

_ “No, everything is filled,’’ replied Har-
old, sadly. ‘‘I tried to secure a clerkship
when my clothes were tidy, but now no one
would even listen to me.’
- Jim marched on in silence for awhile, evi-
dently turning over some new plan in_ his
mind. Presently he slipped one hand into
his pocket and cautiously extracted two

ieces of engraved paper.

ntoa wad. | ,

They were on a quiet street running par-
allel to the Strand. It was lined with build-
ings devoted to wholesale purposes, and the

hour was one when trade felt its lowest ebb.

Suddenly Jim halted and looked back.

‘(How many blocks have we come now?”’
he asked, innocently.

“About six, I think,’? replied Harold,

glancing in the same direction. ‘ t

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Jim
tossed the wad of paper upon the walk a
few yards ahead of them, then he started

off again. Just before reaching the spot he

‘called his companion’s attention to the slabs

of stone forming the sidewalks, saying, care-

OSsly :/
“Dey do t?ings better here dan in Noo
ork. De pavements are cleaner, and——’’
He was interrupted by a low cry from
Harold. The lad sprang forward and eagerly
grasped at an object lying within’ plain
View. Straightening, he displayed two
_ Pieces of crumpled paper. .
“See what I have found,’’ he exclaimed,

These he rolled |

 

NEw s.

 

in a trembling voice.
notes!’

‘*Git out!’’ replied Jim.
ble.??

‘*Ves, it is. Look at them. Two five-
pound notes—two good five-pound Bank of
England notes. Who would think—— Oh,
how happy I am!’?

‘“¢Didn’t I tell yer dey do t’ings better
here than in Noo York?’’ laughed Jim, with
a sly wink at vacancy. ‘‘Now yer couldn’t
find fifty plunks lying round in de streets
dere if yer raked dem over wid a fine tooth
comb. Harold, I’m mighty glad yer found
de dough. It’ll set yer on yer feet again.’’

‘‘That it will. I can purchase some re-
spectable clothing and try again for a good
position. But here, one of these is yours;
you saw them, too,’’ said Harold, extending
a note’toward Jim.

‘“Not much,’’ hastily exclaimed that
worthy, retreating. ‘‘Yer found them all
right, all right. I’ve nothing ter do wid
them.’’

‘‘But you must permit me to divide,’’
protested the English lad.

‘Nope. I won’t have it, sonny. I’ve got
plenty of dough myself. Jest cast yer peep-
ers on dese bills. Dere’s more’n a hundred
and fifty plunks in dat roll. No, keep de
other—it’s your’n right enuff.’’

There were tears in Harold’s eyes as the
twain walked along, but they were tears of
joy. He could dv nothing save talk of his
good fortune, and for probably the first
time in his life Jim realized the pleasure of
doing good.

‘*Now don’t go and spend it all in one
place,’’ advised the latter facetiously. ‘‘ Bet-
ter lay it out in a suit of swell duds and fix-
ings. Let me see yer to-morrow. Me and
Mr. Hungerford are stopping at de Hotel
Metropole. Come eround in de morning
erbout ten and send up yer card,’?

‘‘J’ll certainly see you, but I don’t know
about the card,’’ smiled Harold. ‘‘I lay my
good fortune to you. If it had not been for
this errand I would not have found the
money. Here we are in Norfolk street.
There’s the Strand up at the end of the
way.’’

Jim glanced about. They were in a
quiet street lined on both sides with
houses, showing unmistakable signs of
ancient gentiligy. Narrow mansions with
high stoops and dormer windows, old style
lights, some still retaining their leaden
frames; well-polished knockers; and neatly
tacked beside each door a card proclaiming
to the passer-by that here could be found
rooms without board.

Jim did not know it, but he was on _his-
torical ground. Near him, almost within
touch was the house that sheltered Peter the
Great when he was serving as an apprentice

‘*It’s two five-pound

‘*It an’t possi-

shipwright, and directly across the way was

the venerable mansion in which dwelt our
own William Penn before his departure for
America.

Unheading all this Harold marched toa
residence farther down, and rapped smartly
at the door. It was opened almost at once
by a dark-featured man. The fellow thrust
a shilling into the English lad’s hand, and
then beckoned to Jim. |

‘‘Mr. Hungerford is waiting for you up
stairs,’’ he said. ‘‘Come on; he has been
asking for you more than once.’’

So saying, he turned and re-entered the
hall, followed by Jim. The latter glanced
back and saw Harold gazing after him with
a puzzled expression on his intelligent face.
Suddenly the attendant closed the door,
shutting out the street.

‘¢Go up one flight, and knock on the third
door,’’ he explained, sullenly.

The lad obeyed without question. He
heard a voice bidding him enter; then the
nortal was thrown back, revealing to his as-
tonished view his old employer of the steam
yacht Diablo—Captain Darrow!

CHAPTER XI.
JIM’S SECOND TEMPTATION.

T=) EFORE Jim could even express his
astonishment, he wasseized by a pair
Lb) of brawny arms and dragged into the’
“7 room. One hand was clasped tightly
over his mouth, then he heard a familiar
voice saying, sternly:

‘Don’t make a noise if you value your
life. If you so much as whimper, you little
sebidnel, I’ll cut your tongue out! Do you
understand?’’

The question was superfluous, as Jim could
not have whispered if his very existence de-
pended upon it. Finally the hand was re-
moved, and he was thrust roughly into a
chair.

‘‘Now, young man, Ido not intend to
waste very much time with you,’’ said his
captor, harshly. ‘‘Where are the papers you
stole from me off Cowes?”’

‘‘Wot papers?’’ demanded Jim, evasively.

‘“No nonsense. You know what I mean
very well. Where is the black leather pocket-
book and its contents? Come, answer me.”’

Jim glanced about the apartment. His
quick'eye saw that it was an inner room,
with only one exit, and that door leading
into the hall. Of windows there were none.
It was furnished scantily like all rented
apartments of moderate price.

 

There was a center table, a small bed,
several chairs, and old bureau with a cheap

mirror. The carpet covering the floor was
worn bare in spots, as if it had known the
feet of generations. The noise from the outer
streets came dully as if from a great dis-
tance. This much the lad caught at a glance,
then he turned his attention to the other oc-
cupant.

Captain Darrow stood with his legs apart,
and his arms folded, awaiting his answer.
There wis a look on the man’s face which
betokened cruel determination. Little hope
for mercy there if he did not gain his object.
Still Jim’s thoughts were not of his peril
nor of the present situation. He kept re-
peating to himself one refrain.

‘*He couldn’t have known, he couldn’t
have known. Dat young feller didn’t know
wot he was doing.’’

The burden of his thoughts was the Eng-
lish lad, Harold Buxton. When the surprise
came—when Captain Darrow appeared at
the door instead of Raymond Hungerford,
Jim instantly felt that he was a victim of
treachery. For one brief second he suspected
the lad he had befriended, and it hurt him
more than physical pain would.

He recalled the face with its evident intel-
ligence and honesty, and he knew that he
was mistaken. This settled he confronted his
enemy with a light heart. The captain im-
patiently repeated his demand.

‘‘Give me that black leather pocket-book
with its contents; do you hear?’’

Jim nodded.

‘‘T hear yer, sir’’ he replied, cheerfully.
‘“‘But I hope I may die, cap’ain, if I have
if with me. I left de t’ing erboard de yacht.
If yer dcn’t: believe me yer can search me and
welcome. But wot are yer kicking up such
er row about a blamed old three plunks,
anyway? I’ll pay yer back twice over.”’

‘*T don’t want the money, you idiot,’’ sav-
agely replied Darrow. ‘‘Where are the pa-
pers that were in the purse?’’

‘*T guess they are dere yet. Dere was a
wad of docyments in it, I believe. Wot was
dey, anyhow?”’

His conipanion eyed him suspiciously.

‘*Did you read them?’’ he asked.

Jim was on the point of denying the im-
plied accusation when his new resolution
flashed through his mind. To do so would be
to lie. He had read the papers, there was
no gainsaying that.

‘*Blamed if it an’t barder work ter be
good dan I t’ought,’’ he murmured. ‘‘It
seems ter me dat a man’s a chump wot
would run his head in de noose for de sake
of principle, but it’s got ter go. I prom-
ised, and I’ll do it.’

‘‘] glanced over
frankly.

Captain Darrow paled, partly with rage
and partly with fear.

“You did, you little scoundrel!’’ he
fumed. ‘‘How dare you steal and read my
private papers? What do you——’’

‘Hold on,’’ interrupted Jim, simulatin
amazement. ‘‘Wot’s de matter wid yer!
Anybody’d t’ink I had committed murder
ter hear yer raving. Just ’cause I read a
measly old paper erbout some lords and earls
yer going ter bite my head off.’’

Here the boy buried his face in his hands,
and pretended to cry. His lamentations
were so noisy that Captain Darrow fiercely
bade him be quiet. e looked up, and dis-
played to his companion several genuine
tears which he had actually squeezed from
his lachrymal ducts.

‘<T don’t know why I’ve been follered and
abused in dis manner,’’ hesobbed. ‘‘I didn’t
want ter go wid yer in de yacht. I asked
yer fer me dough, and hood kicked me outer
de cabin. Den ’cause 1 swiped a measly old
pocket-book wid er couple er plunks in it,
yer want ter spoil me new job. Let me go
and I’ll never bother yer no more.’’

The captain seated himself within easy
reach of the lad, and eyed him grimly. He
knew the genus gamin, and he placed little
faith in the present exhibition of grief. He
was there for a purpose—to recover the in-
criminating papers, and he meant to succeed.

‘*You can’t pull the wool over my eyes,’’
he said. ‘‘l know you and your kind. I wish
those documents, and I’ll have them. If you
do not give them to me or tell me where
they can be found you’ll never leave this
room alive. Do you see this?’’

He produced a sharp-pointed dagger, and
calmly felt its edge. Jim watched the glit-
tering weapon with dilated eyes. He in-
stinctively felt that the captain would be as
good as his word.

‘T guess I’d better give ’em up and save
trouble,’’? he concluded, then he added,
aloud:

‘Tf I tell yer where dey are, will yer let
me go?”’

‘*VYes—after I have the papers in my
hands.”’

‘‘Well, Mr. George Gould has der _pocket-
book, and——’? pan

‘‘Mr. Gould has the pocket-book?’’ echoed
Darrow, in alarm. ‘‘T'ben he——’’

‘*No, he an’t read de papers, ’cause why,
he an’t got ’°em. I swiped dem from de purse
during de race wid de Britannia. Mr. Gould
made me give de pocket-book ter him shortly
after dat.’’

‘*Well, where are they now?’’ asked the
captain, considerably relieved. |

> Dey are in me satchel at de Hotel Metro-

ole.

Captain Darrow rose to his feet and
glanced at his watch. He drew a small note-

dem,’’ he admitted

 

book and a pencil from his pocket and
handed them to Jim.

‘‘Here, write an order on the hotel clerk
for your valise,’’ he ordered. ‘‘I’ll bring it
here. You can wait until I return. And re-
member,’’ this savagely, ‘‘there’s a man
guarding the room with instructions to
watch you. He knows what to do in case
you attempt to escape. Write the order.’’

Jim obeyed, and with infinite labor man-
aged to inscribe the necessary words. The
captain took the note, and, after a parting
warning, left the room. The lad hearda
key grate in the outside lock, then the
sounds of retreating footsteps came to his
ears. He was alone with his thoughts.

He did not remain idle very long. Cau-
tiously approaching the door, he crouched
down and peered through the keyhole.
Nothing was visible save a bare expanse of
wall on the opposite side of the hall. Jim
stooped lower and peeped under the edge of
the door. He was rewarded by seeing a pair
of heavy walking boots within a few inches
of his nose.

‘Ah, yer watching, eh?’’ he muttered.
‘‘Well, yer can’t fool me. I guess yer de
captain’s confederate. Wonder if yer can be
gulled easy?’’

Rising lightly to his feet, he began pacing:
up and down the room, wringing his hands
until the knuckles cracked.

‘*Wot have I done ter be treated like dis?’’
he moaned, in tones loud enough to be heard
outside. ‘‘I’m only a pore little kid wid no
father nor mother, and here’s a big. brute
wot’s ill-treating me ‘cause I swiped some
old papers. I'll have the law on him, sol
will. Boo-hoo!’’

He had the satisfaction of hearing the
watcher give a snort of disgust and then
tramp noisily down the stairs. Jim chuckled
with glee.

‘““He’s gone ter wet his whistle, I guess,’?
he murmured. ‘‘Probably t’inks I’m a soft
mug. If he stays down dere five minutes
he’ll find dat I’m soft enough to melt
away.”’

During the next few moments the ex-
mascot was wonderfully active. He flew to
the bed, and throwing the mattress back,
broke from the springs a short length of
wire. This he fashioned into a skeleton key
with deft fingers.

After listening intently to assure himself
that the coast was clear, he worked at the
lock with a skill that seemed born of prac-
tice. In-much less time than it takes to de-
scribe it, he had the door open. Creeping
into the hall upon tip-toes, he glanced down
the stair-well. Voices both masculine and
feminine floated up from the basement.

‘“‘De watchman is amusing himself wid de >
slavey, 1 suppose,’’ murmured Jim. ‘*‘
he got a pint of beer ter while away ;
time. I can’t godown dat way, as dey’ll see
me. How’s de roof, 1 wonder?’’ an

With noiseless steps, he crept up to the
next landing. His quick eye caught a
glimpse of a ladder leaning against the end
wall. Above it was a scuttle. Without fur-
ther ado Jim made for it, and was soon pass- —
ing through into the bright sunlight. eee

At almost the same moment, a lad, thin
of frame and shabbily dressed, slipped along |
the hall he had just left. The new-comer
tried door after door until he came to the ©
apartment recently occupied by Jim. Paus-
ing, he stepped inside and glanced around ~
with a low cry of disappointment.

CHAPTER XII.
JIM SHOWS HIS SHREWDNESS.
EANWHILE, Jim had made an un-

pleasant discovery. On gaining the —
roof he found that it was inclosed

oS> on two sides by the blank walls of
houses considerably higher than that upon

which he was standing. In front was the

street, and at the rear a yard running |

back to a fence.
‘*Dis won’t do,’’ he said, with a grimace.

‘‘T an’t a bird, and nothing else could escape | fe

dis way. I’ll have ter try de front door.’

It was with evident reluctance that he de-
scended the ladder after carefully replacing
the scuttle. He did not tarry long in the
upper story, but cautiously made his way
down the stairs to the floor below. Just as

he reached the bottom step he espied some —
one leaving the room he had recently va- —

cated.

His first thought was to retreat, but he
was too late. The new-comer glanced up and —
saw him. There was a startled exclamation, —
and then Jim found himself shaking hands
with Harold Buxton. oe

‘How in de duse did yer git up here?”

queried the former, in a faint whisper.

‘Through a back window on the floor be-
low,’’ replied the English lad, overjoyed at
the meeting. ‘‘Say, are you a prisoner
here?”’

*‘I’m supposed ter be, but yer see I an’t.
Did yer come up ter release me?’? |

‘‘Yes. After you entered the house I com~
menced to think that something was wrong. |
You stated that this Mr. Hungerford was a-
young man of twenty-two. The man claim-
ing to be him was old, over nine-and-thirty.
The two facts did not connect, so I resolved
to look into the matter. I tried to enter by
the front door, but found it locked. Then I
slipped round to the next street, and made
my way through an empty house to this

 
  

 
  
  
  
 
 
   
   
 
    
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
    
  
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
   
 
  
  
   
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
   
 
    
   
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
    
   
    
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
    

 

 

4h

 
  

    
 

4534

 

yard. It was an easy task to get in through
the back window, and it will be just as easy
to leave by the same method. Come on.’’

He led the way to the lower floor, followed
by Jim.

‘‘Wot’s dat I heard de preacher say at de
mission one night?’’ muttered the latter to
himself. ‘‘It was something erbout casting
yer bread upon de waters, and it’d return
to you after many days. I guess my bread
has found its way home.’’

The lads found little difficulty in escaping
from the Norfolk street house. The man se-
lected by Captain Darrow to guard the
youthful prisoner remained below in calm
belief that all was well. His coarse voice
floated up from the basement in a_ burst of
half-maudlin laughter as the fugitives made
their way from the ground floor. ,

‘‘Glad he’s enjoying himself,’’? remarked
Jim, with a grin. ‘‘His time’s short. When
me friend returns he’ll square accounts wid
him to de queen’s taste.’’

Nothing further was said until they had
gained the next street. Once clear of the
empty house, the ex-mascot turned to his
companion and asked him to secure a cab or
hansom at once.

**Pick out de fastest nag yer can find,’’
he added, hurriedly. ‘‘We’ve got ter reach
de hotel in a brace of seconds. Offer any-
thing—a couple of sovereigns if necessary.’’

‘*Come to the Strand,’’ replied Harold,
leading the way at a run.

They found that historical thoroughfare
crowded with vehicles, and it did not take
them very long to secure a carriage with
horses of promising speed. A brief word
with the Jehu, and then they were soon
whirling away at a rapid pace.

‘*Here’s de hotel,’’? said Jim, a few mo-
ments later. ‘‘Take dis and pay his nibs.
Den foller me.’’

While uttering the last word he sprang
from the cab and darted into the main hall
of the Metropole. As he entered the door a
man brushed past him and hastily descended
the few steps leading to the sidewalk. Jim
gave him one glance, then he followed ata
bound.

‘**Scuse me, but yer have got my prop-
erty,’’ he said, blandly, at the same time
reaching forth and grasping the handle of a
stout, well-filled valise carried by the fel-
low.

There was a sharp exclamation of amaze-
ment, then Captain Darrow—for it was he
—turned and aimed a blow at Jim. The lat-
ter dodged, and with a sudden wrench tore
the satchel from his antagonist’s hand.

**Look out wot yer doin, cap’ain,’’ he
cried, warningly. ‘‘ Dere’s cops eround here,
and 1’ll call one before yer know wot’s up
if yer don’t mosey. T’ought yer was smart
enuff ter bamboozle me, eh? Huh! not dis
week !”’

Captain Darrow glared at him furiously.

‘*You little fiend, I’1I—I’1l] be the death of
you yet!’’ he grated. ‘‘Give me that
satchel !”?

‘‘Not on yer life. It’s mine, and I’m
bound ter hold on ter it. Better take my
advice and skip while yer got der chance,
I see a cop over at de corner, and I’ll have
him here if yer don’t slope.’’

Suddenly the Saptain’s manner changed.
He smiled suavely, and said, in a voice.re-
markable for its oiliness:

‘*Now, look here, Jim. Why can’t we ar-
range this little matter without trouble?
You have documents of mine which are in-
valuable to me. For some reason you refuse
to surrender them. I could force you to give
them up, but I don’t wish to be harsh. If
you will turn the papers over to me, I'll
pay you for them. What do you say?’’

A broad smile appeared upon the lad’s
face, and he winked at Haroid, who had
joined them a moment previous,

‘‘Dat’s yer talk, is it?’? asked Jim.
‘‘Well, I’m glad ter see dat yer learning
sense. I’m satisfied with de noo arrange-
ment. De question now is, how much???

‘*How will ten dollars suit you?’?’

‘*Not a little bit,’? was the prompt reply.
**A cool hundred plunks er nothing. ’’

A hundred! You are crazy. I'll give

’

‘*Come on, Harold,’’ interrupted Jim,
turning away. ‘‘Dere an’t no use in fooling
wid dis man.’’

Captain Darrow muttered a curse both
loud and deep. Thrusting his hand into his
pocket, he displayed a roll of notes. Select-
ing four five-pound bills, he gave them to
Jim. The latter chuckled gleefully, and
drew forth a bundle of papers from beneath
his vest.

‘*Here’s yer precious docyments,’’ he said.
“‘Tf yer had been smart in dat room yer
would have searched me and got yer papers
free of charge. So long.’’

With a hearty laugh he grasped Harold
by the arm and hurried into the hotel, leav-
ing the captain staring after them in speech-
less rage. The lads waited for several mo-
ments, then they returned to the street. As
Jim had expected, Captain Darrow had dis-
appeared,

‘*Dat’s a blamed easy way ter make
money,’’? remarked the ex-mascot. ‘I’m
a hundred plunks ahead, the captain
has his papers—and in me grip is a good
copy of dem. So yer see I came out winner
on every deal.’’

was well bred enough to wait until the in-
| formation came unsolicited.

**Tll explain dis affair after awhile,’’ said
Jim, presently. ‘‘I’m minded now ter take
yer out for a good time. I’ll leave a note
for me friend, and we’ll have a bang-up
feed at some swell. restaurant. First, how-
ever, we’ll visit de clothing layouts, and
pick yer a suit.’’

Leaving his new friend upon the sidewalk,
Jim entered the hotel. On approaching the
desk he saw Raymond Hungerford standing
near by intently reading a letter. He glanced
up, and called out:

‘*You are just the lad I wish to see. Here
is an important letter. Read it and give me
your opinion.”’

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
———_ ~~ © o-—-- ——

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

The Jack of Diamonds

v

DETECTIVE BORN AND BRED,

By JOHN BLAKE STRONG.

wei cinta

 

(“THE JACK OF DIAMONDS’? was commenced in
No. 282. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.)

a

CHAPTER VII.

TOO DEEP FOR MR. WINSLOW,

TRAITOR!” cried Marshall. “I
can hardly believe it.”

‘You will,” replied Winslow,
‘when you have heard my story.”

“First let this young man dress your
wound,” said Marshall, pointing to Jack.

‘‘Who is he?” demanded Winslow.

“Your chief,” rejoined Marshall, “if you
remain in my employ. He is now in abso-
lute charge of the investigation.”

‘In charge? Why, he’s only a big, over-
grown boy.”

‘You'll find that his mind is ‘overgrown’
rather than his body,” said Marshall, calmly.
“But we won’t discuss that. You'd better
let him attend to your head. He is a com-
petent surgeon.”

Jack did not wait for permission from
Winslow. He began to remove the bandage
and to examine the man’s injury.

‘A bullet wound,” he said. ‘No fracture,
however. You have a remarkably hard
head, Mr. Winslow. Tle bullet glanced off
your skull as if it had been made of Har-
veyized armor. The scalp is torn, that’s all.
Now, if you'll wait a moment while I visit
my medicine chest, you shall have an anti-
septic dressing in the most approved style
of the art.”

He ran out of the room and was back
again immediately, bearing bandages and
bottles.’ Presently Mr. Winslow’s head
looked and felt better than it had in many
hours.

‘Look here, you’re a dabster at this busi-
ness,” said the man, in admiration. ‘Upon
my soul, I feel as good as new. And now
listen to me, for there’s no time to waste.
“I’ve suspected your man, Edson, for a
considerable time. I won’t fool away pre-
cious minutes by going over all the causes.
It’s enough to say that Franklin Marshall
owns him body and breeches.

“But who owns Marshall? ‘That’s the
point. I tell you, sir, there’s queer busi-
ness going on. Marshall is in the hands of
a gang of schemers. They’re up to some
peculiarly rich variety of deviltry, and I
can't get on to it. The business is too deep
for Hiram Winslow.

“There are mysterious people flitting
around Appletree Island in boats. They
land there and they leave there at all hours
of the day and night.

‘J’ye run down some of them. They’re
always mere nobodies—-boatmen who have
delivered sealed messages, or people who
are on the face of them understrappers for
somebody else. There's a gang at work, and
Franklin Marshall isn’t the head of it; he’s
only one of the gang. But who the head
is I can’t even guess.

“T know that he exists, but that is as far
as I’ve gone—no, I’ve gone a step further,
I’ve heard his voice.

“Let me give you the story straight. You
know we've had a spy in Marshall’s house
for some time— Walter Freeman, a servant.
‘“‘He’s a good man, who is honestly trying
to do his duty. He reports to Edson, ac-
cording to your instructions, on the health
of the young lady, and the treatment which
she receives. He reports to me privately,
“The reports which he has received Ed-

 

GOOD NEWS.

   

 

“This is the ‘other source’ of which I
spoke to you,” said Mr. Marshall to Jack.

‘The principal point,” continued Wins-
low, ‘‘was her association with that lawyer,
Robert Deming. She seems to like him,
and I don’t, though I admit that there seems
to be nothing against him, except his associ-
ation with Franklin Marshall. He attends
to Marshall’s law business, and seems to do
it well. I believe the young lady’s property
is in much better shape since he took
hold.

‘However, your special orders were to
report upon the men who made the young
lady’s acquaintance, and I always obey
orders.

‘‘We come now to this,” and he touched
his wounded head. ‘‘At last, after much
work, I got onto one of the gang hanging
around Marshall who seemed to promise
something. He was a young swindler
named Harry Bohm. He’s well known to
the New York police.

“I found that this fellow was visiting the
island every night, and so I laid for him.
This morning about three o’clock I saw him
coming back from the island.

“He landed just above Alexander Bay and
struck off into the woods. I tracked him,
and within one hundred yards he connected
with a pal. Who do you think it was?
Why, your man Edson.

“The old man’s in a bad way,’ said
Bohm, referring to Marshall.

*«‘What’s the matter?’ asked Edson.

**«*Got one of his blue fits on. The doc-
tor’s been talking to him again. I tell you
it’s dangerous, ‘That old rascal has the fear
of death in him, and he’s likely to split to
ease his mind.’

“Suppose death gets there first,’ said
Edson, in a tone that made me shudder.

‘Just then another man approached. He
was coming up in such a way as to dislodge
me. I changed my position and Edson
heard me.

“I was caught. There was nothing to do
but to face him. I did it with a revolver in
each hand.

“Edson started when he recognized me,
and Bohm swore roundly. The other man
stopped behind a tree after making a signal.

“T was afraid the third fellow would shoot
from cover, but the distance was consider-
able, and I hardly thought he’d take any
risks, considering the position, in which I
had his friends.

“Now, just what was that position? I
couldn’t arrest them. What crime could I
charge them with? The only thing to do
was to put up a bluff, and then get away,

“So I began to talk the English language
to Edson. I told him just what I thought
of him.

“And the rascal stood there in the faint,
gray light and grinned like a demon.
‘Finally, when I’d said my say, and was
anxious to get out, Edson asked me what I
proposed to do, I’d found out that he was
playing a double game; he admitted that.
What would I do?

“As he spoke he stepped jauntily toward
me with his hands in his pockets. The
next instant there was.a flash and a crash,
and I thought that my head had burit like a
glass goblet hit with an ax,

‘He had fired through his pocket and had
struck me on the head. I shot once, but I
guess my bullet hit a star, if it hit anything.
“The next thing I knew I was being
dragged over the ground. I couldn’t move
hand or foot, but I could hear and gee
dimly, though my eyes were full of blood.
‘Frank Marshall will break loose if he
hears of this,’ Edson was saying. ‘He’s
particular about little things of this kind.’

** “Don’t you worry about him,’ replied a
voice I'd never heard before, evidently that
of the man whose approach had got me into
all the trouble. ‘Frank Marshall won’t hear
of anything after Friday.’

‘* ‘Friday?’ said Edson.

‘* *Yes,’ responded the other. ‘ Friday
evening in the grove. It’s settled. Now
then, pitch him over.’

“The next instant I was sailing through
the air. I hadn’t strength to utter a sound,
even if there'd been any use in crying out.
“Believing me dead they had thrown me
into the St. Lawrence with a big stone in
each of my coat pockets.

‘The cold water revived me, and I easily
slipped out of the coat. Silently I swam in
the shadow of the bank, and suczeeded in
crawling out of the river about a hundred
yards below the point where I went in.
‘*HWortunately there was plenty of under-
brush. I srept away in its shelter, got back
to my room unseen, fixed up my head, put
on a dry suit of clothes, hid the old ones, in
case Edson should visit the room, took a
drink, and subsequently a boat for Clayton,
from which point by the first train I came
to Holbrook.

‘*Now here’s the sum of it, The bad gang

 

 

The English lad joined in his companion’s
mirth, but he did not ask any questions. He

son has faithfully transmitted, with very few
exceptions. I have filled in the omissions,”

| thinks he’s going to die right away. And
| that has made him weaken.

‘‘The gang’s afraid he’ll confess, and so
they’re going to kill him. The job will be
done Friday of this week.’’

‘*'To-morrow !’’ exclaimed Marshall.

‘*To-day,’’ said Jack. ‘‘It is past mid-
night. ’’

‘*You must go.’’

‘*Certainly I will. If there’s a chance of
confession in this case, no time must be lost.
We must save his life.’’

‘*You will do it, Jack.’’

‘‘And where doI come in,’’ growled Wins-
low.

‘‘Stay here till your wound is healed.’’

**Not much. With your leave I’ll go with
Jack. He’sa boy after my own heart. I
don’t mind taking orders from him, and if I
can be of service, I'll be delighted.

‘‘But let me say one thing right here’?’—
and the maa’s habitual half jocose humor
changed at once to a gravity befiting the
theme—‘‘this boy is taking his life in his
|hand. He is going to face the worst gang I
ever heard of, and I’ve been a detective for
twenty odd years.

‘*The instant they find he’s on the ground,
they'll try to kill him. My own experience
shows how much they care for human life.’’

‘‘And my conduct,’’ said Jack, ‘‘shall
show that I’m not afraid to risk mine in a
good cause.’?’

 

CHAPTER VIII.

THE AUSTRALIAN. CHAMPION,

2 OU can’t go back there as you are,’’
said Jack, to Winslow. ‘‘If you’re
recognized, our cake will be dough.’?

‘*That’s true.’?’

‘*And you, Jack, should adopt some dis-
guise,’’ said Mr. Marshall. ‘“‘It is possible
that these fellows may have a line on you.
Edson, at least, has seen you, though not re-
cently that I am aware of.’’

Jack thought a moment.

‘*Will you call Jim Carney?’’ he said at
last.

‘‘What?’’? cried Mr. Marshall. ‘Will you
trust him in this matter?’’

‘*T will. He is an honest fellow, though a
‘tough’ in appearance. He can help me
here.’’

Without further comment or question Mr.
Marshall left the room.

‘Under your orders, eh?’’ said Winslow,
jerking his thumb over his shoulder in the
direction of the door which had closed be-

 
 

 

1 hind Mr. Marshall. ‘‘Well, that’s queer.’?

‘‘He trusts me implicitly,’’? said Jack,
gravely. ‘‘God grant that I may be worthy
of his confidence.’’

‘‘That’s right, my lad,’’ rejoined the
rough fellow, reverently. ‘‘ Always look up-
ward. I’m more disposed to do it this night
than ever before, though I’ve never been an
irreligious man. A merciful Father has saved
my life from the very jaws of death, and I’m
going to try to make it worth the trouble.’’

There was a vein of grim humor in the
man which nothing could suppress. His most
serious thoughts ended in a light word.

But Jack was beginning to like the fellow.
There was a rough fidelity about him, a sort
of bull-dog honesty of purpose, that seemed
especially worthy of admiration, contrasted
with the treachery which he had just exposed
in the scoundrelly Edson.

Mr. Marshall was not long in getting Car-
ney out of his bed. The big fellow came into
the study, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

‘‘Wake up, Jim,’’ said Jack. ‘‘Here’s
business right in your liné.”’

‘‘!’m wid yez,’’ said Carney, heartily.

**Didn’t you tell me that Larry Meekin,
the so-called Australian middle-weight cham-
pion, was going to train at Alexandria Bay
for his match with Mike Austin, of To-
ronto?’’

‘* Yes; so he is.’’

‘*He hasn’t gone up there yet?’’ .

‘*No; he’s in Syracuse. He won’t go to
Alexandria Bay for a week or ten days, but
he’s got his quarters engaged.’’

‘‘Does anybody up there know him???

‘‘Oh, no; he’s not known at all in this
country. Sure he’s only been here a month
or six weeks and most o’ that in California.’’

‘*How’s he fixed for money?’’

‘‘Bad. His backer’s in England, and Larry
is mighty short.’’

‘*Would a hundred dollars hire him to lie
quiet for a week or so?’’

‘*A hundred dollars would hire him to
jump off the Washington Monument, if it
was in good ‘long green’ right under his nose
this day. I know all about him through my
friend, Jack Burke, who’s going to be one of
his seconds. Jack was over here day before
yesterday.’’

‘*So you told me. Now, Mr. Marshall, will
you give Jim a hundred dollars for Larry
Meekin and about twenty for himself???’ /

‘*Certainly, Jack.’’

‘“You fix it so that Larry disappears for a
while, Jim. Bring him over here, and Jack
Burke with him. Meanwhilé I’m going to
Alexandria Bay in his place, and this gentle-
man is my trainer.’’

He laid his hand on Winslow’s shoulder.

‘‘Ye don’t need no trainer to fight Mike
Austin,’’ said Carney, with a grin. ‘‘You’d

 

that is working around Frank Marshall is
afraid of him. He’s got heart disease, and

do the likes of him in one round. He’d be
knocked out so flat he’d think he was a pict-

 

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4535

 

ure painted on the floor when you got | As they waited there a skiff shot by,

through with him.’’

| scarcely a hundred feet away. It carried two

‘‘T’m not going to fight anybody, Jim,’’ | men, but there was not light enough to tell

said Jack.
masquerade. It’s got to be kept absolutely
dark, you understand. Not even Meekin him-
self must know why he is doing this.’’

‘‘All right. Jack Burke will fix that, and
a ten-dollar note will fix Jack. So there you
have it. There’ll be no questions asked.’’

‘*All right, Jim. Go back to bed. And

early in the forenoon get over to Syracuse

and fix things up.”’
‘¢T7]] do it,’’ said Jim

Winslow.

‘““T’m simply going on a little
> o>

 

short-cropped red wig so that it would an- |
swer the purposes of a-+bandage for the |

wounded head. Then he shaved Winslow and
painted his face most artistically. The man
hardly knew himself in a looking-glass when
Jack was done with him.

His own face gave Jack less trouble.
cropping of his curly hair changed his ap-
pearance wonderfully, and besides, he had
acquired such complete control over the
facial muscles that he could alter his own
countenance magically.

Mr. Marshall highly approved of Jack’s
plan. The role of prize-fighter was obnoxious,
but it was safe,

A pugilist’s training quarters can be care-
fully guarded without exciting suspicion.
Moreover the boldness of the game was an
element of safety. If the banded criminals
who surrounded Franklin Marshall, or he
himself had reason to fear that Jack would
take a hand in the game, they would certainly
not look for his appearance in such a guise.

The training quarters which Carney’s
friend. Burke, had selected for the Austral-
ian pugilist consisted of a cottage with some
grounds beside the river, i

Winslow and Jack took possession without
question from the owner, who had never
seen Meekin.

The arrival of the fighter was soon noised
about Alexandria Bay, and the whole Thou-
sand Island settlement. Many men with
sporting proclivities made: haste to call at
the cottage. They found half a dozen stout
fellows—hired by Winslow—on guard in the
grounds.

The orders were that nobody should be ad-
mitted. The distinguished Mr. Meekin, of
Australia, was taking a snooze to refresh
himself after his ride on the railroad.

It was late in the afternoon when Jack and
his ‘‘trainer’’ arrived, and they had scant
time to perfect their arrangements.

The location of the training quarters was
especially good, as it was almost as near to
Appletree Island as any point on the river
bank which could have been selected.

To slip across in a boat as soon as darkness
closed over the river and secure an interview
with Walter Freeman, the servant in Frank-
lin Marshall’s house, seemed easy enough to
Jack. But Winslow had other ideas.

‘‘That island is watched,’’ he said. ‘‘Mar-
shall has a good many servants, and only
one of them is in our pay. The others will
shoot us on sight. Besides that, there are
half a dozen dogs loose, and they’re terrors.
One of them isa mastiff, and he’s half as big
as an ox. I’m not much afraid of dogs as a
general thing, but that fellow is a little out
of my class, and I’ll admit it. If I was put
between two slices of ‘bread, I wouldn’t
make a sandwich for that brute.’’ ot

‘‘Perhaps it isn’t so easy as I think it is,”’
said Jack, ‘‘but it’s got to be done. You’ll
admit that, too, I suppose.’’

“*You’re right,’’ rejoined Winslow, rub-
bing his head tenderly.

‘*You’d better stay here,’’ said Jack.
**You’re not fit to go about with that head.
Anybody else would be ina hospital with
such a wound.’’

‘*You’re wrong, my lad. Anybody else
would be at the bottom of the St. Lawrence
River. But LIan’t anybody else; I’m just
myself. And that’s the reason why I’m alive,
and why I’m going across to Appletree Island
with you this night.”’

It was useless to argue with him. He was
_hard-headed, both figuratively and physi-

cally. It was difficult to drive a bullet or
an opinion through his skull.

As soon as it was dark they got into one
of the light skiffs for which the region is fa-
mous, and noiselessly rowed toward Apple-
tree Island.

It was too early in the season for a great
display upon the islands or the river banks.
In August the whole region is brilliant with
myriad lights by night, but in June it is
very different. Many of the cottagers had
arrived, and some of the hotels were open,
but the scores of excursion steamers had not
begur to dart about among the islands like
gondolas on the canals of Venice, and there
were few persons abroad in skiffs.

They followed circuitous channels and ap-
proached Franklin Marshall’s domain from
the Canadian side at last.

“There it is,’? whispered Winslow, as he
drew the boat under the shelter of an island
that was scarcely bigger than a dining table
but was heavily overgrown with bushes that
cast a deep shadow.

Fifty yards away Jack saw the dark mass
of Appletree Island. It was about five acres
in area, and there was a thick growth of
trees upon one end.

The |

| other side,’’ said Winslow.
Then Jack began the job of disguising |
In the first place he arranged a |

| what they looked like.

The skiff made straight for Appletree
Island, and was drawn up under some over-
hanging bushes.

‘*There’s another one,’’
low.

Jack descried a second skiff containing one
man. It was visible for a moment only, and
then was obscured by the island itself.

‘*He’s going to the regular landing on the
**T wonder who

whispered Wins-

he is.’?

They waited a few minutes longer and
then cautiously pulled across the channel.
They landed without being challenged by a
sentry either human or canine.

Winslow led the way, and they crept softly
up a path leading toward the house.

Suddenly a figure rose up from the ground
almost at their feet. It was a man dimly
visible in the heavily shadowed path. Jack
could see no more than that the man’s arm
was extended straight toward them. He was
evidently holding a revolver in his hand.

‘*Halt!’’? he said, in a low but stern tone.

‘‘Thank heaven!’’ ejaculated Winslow.
‘*Tt’s Freeman.”’

7

CHAPTER IX.

THE MYSTERY OF THE GROVE.

©

—REEMAN recognized Winslow’s voice
and came forward with a half-sup-
‘Ai s:) pressed exclamation of relief. He
-c™* was a short man with shoulders so re-
markably broad that his outline in the un-
certain light looked almostsquare. Had there
been more illumination, Jack might have
noticed that the man had some drops of
negro blood in his veins.

‘*Tam glad to see you, sir,’’ he said to
Winslow, and then he glanced at Jack.

‘‘This is our new chief,’’ said Winslow,
and Freeman touched his hat to Jack with
a military gesture. He supposed that Jack
was a man in years as he was in stature. As
to the identity of the new chief, he was left
in ignorance, for Winslow called no names.

‘*What has happened here to-day?’’ asked
Jack, after acknowledging Freeman’ssalute.

‘*T have done what Mr. Winslow directed
me to do,’’ was the reply.

The directions referred to were given ina
long telegram sent from Holbrook early that
morning by Jack’s order.

Freeman had been accustomed, while serv-
ing Winslow, to call at the post-office in
Alexandria Bay every forenoon at ten.
There, under an assumed name, he had re-
ceived such instructions as Winslow had to

  

ive.
Jack’s telegram had been sent in a rude
cipher which Winslow and Freeman had pre-
viously used. It had been directed to the fic-
titious name, with orders to deliver at the
post-office.

Winslow, had signed it, for, of course,
Freeman knew nothing about Jack.

The message had directed Freeman to warn
Marshall by an unsigned note, and to give
the local police authorities a hint as guarded-
ly as possible. Jack had been unwilling to
leave thém in ignorance, since that would
have been aiding the criminals; but he had
no hope of help from the meager force of the
district.

Freeman reported that he had left the note
for Marshall, but had had no means of know-
ing whether he put any faith in its contents.

He had also informed the local chief of
police that he believed Franklin Marshall to
be in danger. The chief had promised secrecy,
but had been inclined to ridicule the idea
that a murderous plot existed.

He had, however, attempted a secret ar-
rest of Edson, but had failed to find him.
He had also visited Mr. Marshall, who had—
so Freeman believed—refused protection, and
scorned the notion that he was in danger.

Having heard this report, Jack asked Free-
man who was on the island.

‘‘Only two persons besides yourselves and
the regular inmates of the house, so far as I
know,’’ was the reply. ‘‘Mr. Deming, the
lawyer, came over about half an hour ago.’’

‘‘Ts he with Mr. Marshall now?’’ asked
Jack. aa Ei

‘‘Not unless Miss Laura is away,’’ said
Winslow, with a laugh. ‘*Young Mr. Dem-
ing would rather talk with her than discuss
business with Marshall, and’’—he added,
under his breath—‘‘I don’t blame him.’’

‘¢You are right, sir,’’? said Freeman, ‘‘Mr.
Deming asked for Miss Laura, and when I
left the house they were on the veranda to-
gether. Mr. Warrington was also there.’’ _

‘‘T haven’t heard of him before,’’ said
Jack. ‘‘Who is he?’’

‘“‘Only ‘a summer young man,’’ replied
Winslow, ‘‘If he knew what was hanging
over this house, he would run away, and he
wouldn’t stop this side of Boston—where he
hails from.’’

“Tf you’ll pardon me, sir,’’ said Free-
man, ‘‘I like Mr. Warrington. He’s a gen-
tleman, I think, and it pleases me much bet-
ter to see him with Miss Laura rather than
any of the other men who come here.’’

“A good eye,’’ rejoined Winslow. ‘‘You’re

 

Backed by the trees stood the house, in

_ which a few lights glimmered.

right. Jack Warrington is harmless, if he’s
nothing else. He’s a dude; that’s what he
is ”

‘*He’s a very handsome young man,’’ re-

lied Freeman, respectfully dissenting from
Vinslow’s censure. ‘‘He dresses rather con-
spicuously and wears too many diamonds;
but they say he is rich enough to afford it.
And I hope he’ll keep Miss Laura away from
Deming. That lawyer is a schemer, and
I’m afraid of him.

‘*T’ve been a servant in this family many
years now, and I’ve seen Miss Laura grow
up from a girl. 1’d do anything to save her
from harm; and it was for her sake I en-
tered into the agreement with you, Mr.
Winslow. I’m no traitor to Mr. Marshall,
but I’m afraid he is going the wrong way.
I want to save his daughter from suffering
by his errors, and I’d give my life to do it,’?

Jack could not help admiring this man
whose manner—and indeed his language—
was that of a thorough gentleman, though
he was only a servant.

‘“Why do you object to Deming?’’
Jack. ‘‘Is he crooked???’

‘*No, I don’t say that,’’ responded Free-
man, ‘‘but I believe he is trying to marry
Miss Laura, and I don’t think he’d make
her happy. I believe he is after her money.’’

‘*Deming keeps me guessing,’’ said Wins-
low. ‘‘Sometimes I think he’s the only hon-
est man in the bunch, and sometimes I think
he’s the biggest rascal.’’

‘‘Let us walk up toward the house,”’’ said
Jack.

A few minutes’ waik brought them in
sight of the veranda, a part-of which was
brightly lighted.

A man was standing on the steps with his
hat in his hand. He had been descending and
had turned to face a girl who stood above
him,

Jack forgot that he was a detective, and
remembered only that he was a boy with the
swift, warm blood of youth in his veins. He
saw only one figure of the group before him.

The light of the fanciful lanterns struck
straight upon her, revealing the beauty of a
face that had the charm of girlhood anda
touch of woman’s dignity. She had a glory

asked

| of golden hair about her head, and her face

had the delicate tinting of the perfect blonde,
except that it was strengthened by the firm
straight lines of the eyebrows, which were
dark, and by the shadows of the long, dark
lashes. ;

: An almost inaudible whistle escaped Wins-
ow.

‘*Every time I see that girl,’’ he muttered,
‘*1’m knocked completely——’”’

*‘Hush!’’ said Jack, and laid his strong
hand on the man’s shoulder.

‘‘Good-night, Mr. Deming,’’ the girl was
saying. ‘‘I will tell my father that you
called.
receive you.’’

The lawyer said good-night, and walked
rapidly down the path. They saw him get
into his boat at the landing and pull away
in the direction of Alexandria Bay.

Meanwhile Miss Marshall was speaking
earnestly to a young man who had _ been
somewhat in the background while Deming
was saying his goodnight.

‘*Warrington,’’ whispered Freeman.

‘‘He is a handsome fellow and no mis-
take,’’ muttered Jack, and he felt something
like a pang of envy.

Warrington was dismissed with a good-
night, and he, too, walked down the path,
but instead of boarding a boat at the land-
ing, he sat down upon one that was drawn
up on the beach and proceeded to light a
cigar.

The girl at once entered the house.

‘*Where is Mr. Marshall?’’ asked Jack.

‘‘He has not left the island,’’ said Free-
man. ‘*‘In my opinion you will be most likely
to find him in the grove.’’

He waved his hand toward a dense mass
of trees upon the western end of the island.

‘*He must not be allowed to wander there
alone,’’ said Jack. ‘‘The place lends itself
too readily to murder, and I still believe
from Winslow’s testimony that there is a
plot against Marshall’s life.’’

‘*If he is in the grove,’’ said Winslow, ‘‘he
will probably be walking on the terrace be-
fore the arbor. I’ve often seen him there of
an evening.’

‘‘We will go there,’’ Jack rejoined.

Freeman led the way, keeping within the
shadow of trees and moving cautiously.

As Jack followed silently the thought that
had been in his mind all day came to him
with renewed force: how strange it was that
his first act in the battle against Franklin
Marshall should be an attempt to save his
pi eget life.

ut fate had so decreed. Marshall must not
die if Jack could help it. Considering the
lapse of years since the wreck at Hollingford
it was possible that the secret of the real
identity of the heiress was known to Mar-
shall only. His wife was dead, and it was
not possible that the girl herself had any
proof to offer of her own identity.

It was one peculiar feature of the case
that the fortune was hers in any event. But
Jack had doubts whether much of the prop-
erty remained. Franklin Marshall had suc-
ceeded im securing the management of it,
and the chances were that he had diverted
most.of it to his own use. Winslow believed
him to be fighting desperately on the verge
of financial ruin.

Revolving these strange complications in
his mind, Jack followed his guide through

 

the dark grove. At last the view ahead light-
ened. They were emerging upon the terrace.

I am sorry that he was not here ‘to |-

 

It was at the head of a broad path leading
up from the river. The ‘‘arbor’’ was in real-
ity a pagoda, as fancifully formed as any in
China. From its top, one.could look out far
and wide over the river.

On a rustic seat before the pagoda sata
man with his head in his hands.

‘*That’s Marshall,’? whispered Winslow.
‘‘That’s his white hound lying at his feet.??

‘‘We can dono better than wait here,’’

replied Jack. ‘‘He is safe in that position
while we are so near.’’
_ They stretched themselves on the dry grass
just within the shadow of the grove. For
fully an hour neither they nor the dark fig-
ure on the terrace moved.

Then suddenly the silence of the night was
rent by the sharp report of a pistol. Another
followed almost instantly.

The figure on the terrace sprang to its feet.

‘‘Great heaven!’ cried Winslow. ‘‘It is
not Marshall. He has been murdered while
we watched that fellow.’

The dog, meanwhile, was straining at a
chain fastened to his collar. He yelped, and
tried to break away in the direction of a
path leading to the right. It was from that
point that the sound of the shots came.

It all passed in a moment. Jack had
leaped to his feet at the first pistol shot. He
hesitated just a moment, not wishing to leave
the supposed Franklin Marshall unguarded.

But Winslow’s exclamation undeceived
Jack. In an instant he dashed away.

Such was his speed of foot that though
Freeman and Winslow instantly followed
him, he vanished from their sight before
they had fairly got started.

He had crossed the little clearing, and bad
leaped into the path to the right, when a
third pistol shot rang out.

Jack sped like the wind: but although so
intent upon his wild race through the dark-
ness, he kept command of all his senses.

Suddenly his quick ear caught the sound
of footsteps. A man was running through
the woods toward Jack, but not directly,
for he was not in the path.

Jack leaped out of the beaten way, to meet
this man. They caught sight of each other
at the same instant.

**Halt!’’ cried Jack.

The reply was a pistol shot, and the bullet
touched the collar of Jack’s coat upon the
side.

The conviction flashed upon the boy that
murder had been done, and he was face to
face with the criminal. No one else would
have fired at the word ‘‘halt.?’

And, believing this, Jack instantly re-
turned the fire.

The man uttered acry of pain. He plunged
through a mass of underbrush, and Jack fan-
cied that he heard him fall upon the other
side of it.

The boy dashed after him. As he sprang
into the underbrush he received a tremen-
dous blow across the bridge of the nose which
felled him and completely blinded him.

He rose and groped his way back toward
the path. In his helpless condition it was use-
less to pursue his enemy.

He called to Winslow, but heard no an-
swer. Though sightless, he was yet undaunt-
ed. He made the best of his way in the di-
rection from which the original pistol reports
had come.

But he soon became hopelessly lost. He
cried out again for Winsldw. ,

The man’s voice replied. The sound was
exactly behind Jack and quite near to him.
The boy turned and felt his way back.

His sight was returning. There had been
no real injury to the eyes, only a blinding
from shock.

He dimly made out a dark mass of under-
brush. He pushed his way through it.

Winslow and Freeman stood there in a lit-
tle cleared space everhung by the boughs of
a great tree.

Between them lay a man’s body.

‘‘T cannot see the face,’’ cried the boy; ‘‘I
am half blind. Who is it?”’

‘‘franklin Marshall,’? replied Winslow.
‘*He is shot through the heart.’’

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Sp a ee ea
A CHEEKY LITTLE LAMB. :

 

The Rev. Dr. Meredith, a well-known
clergyman, tries to cultivate friendly rela-
tions with the younger members of his
flock. In a recent talk to his Sunday-school
he urged the children to speak to him when-
ever they met.

The next day a dirty-faced urchin, smok-
ing a cigarette and having a generally dis-
reputable appearance, accosted him in the |
street with:

‘*Hallo, Doctor !’’

The clergyman stopped and cordially in-
quired:

‘And who are you, sir?’’

‘<1’m one of your little lambs,’’ replied
the boy, affably. ‘‘Fine day.’’

And, tilting his hat on his head, he swag-
gered off, leaving the worthy divine speech-
less with amazement. ‘

—_——__ > + >

Extract from an essay written by Willie
Jimkins:

‘*Man has two hans,
an one is the left han. The rite han is fur
ritin an the left han is fur leftin. Both hans
at once is fur stummik ake.’’

     
     
    
    
   
    
     
  
   
   
   
    
 
  
   
  
  
    
    
 
   
 
 
    
  
  
 
 
  
     
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
    
  
  
  
    
   
    
    
    
   
   
 
  
   
   
   
    
   
  
 
   
  
    
  
    
 
 
    
  
    
   
    
  
 
 
   
   
   
    
     
    
   
  
     
     
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
  
  
 
  
   
     
   
   
 
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
   
 
  
  
 
 
   

 

       
 
        
   
   
 

One is the rite han

 
     
     
   
 
 
  
    
     
   
    
 
   
   
 
   
  
   
   
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
   
   
 
 
  
    
 
 
    
   
    
  
     
    
  
    
  
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
   
   

 

        

mn > cod - 2.
EVERY QUARTER:

ISSUED WEEKLY.

>

Feet: STORIES

 

NEW YORK, OCTOBER 12, 1895.

 

 

Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers:

(POSTAGE FREE.)

 

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4months - - - - - 8c, | 2copies, one year- - 4.00
6months - - - - - $1.25] 1copy, tivo years - -, 4.00

  

Goop NEWS AND N. WEEELY, both, one year, $4.50

How to SenpD Monry.—By post-oflice or express
money order, registered letter, bank check or ¢ raft,
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To CLuB Rarisens.—Upon request we will send sam-
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All letter's should be addressed to

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

 

 

Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line.

 

 

Contents of this Number.

SERIAL STORIES.

“Fearless and True,” by Henry Harrison
Haines.

“In Barracks and Wigwam,” by William
Murray Graydon.

“The Jack of Diamonds,” by John Blake
Strong.

‘A Struggle for a Pennant,” by Harry T.
Cook.

“Center-Board Jim,” by Lieut. Lionel
Lounsberry.

“The Fighting Lads of Devon,” by Alfred
Armitage.

“By Pluck Alone,” by Harvey Hicks.

“Boats, Bats and Bicycles,” by Ernest A.
Young.

“That Coon ’Rastus,” by **Peter.”

REGULAR DEPARTMENTS.

“Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur
Sewall.

‘*How to Do Things,” by David Parks.

‘Our Stamp Album.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Mail Bag,” “Exchange Department,”
“Club Notices,” etc.
ANNOUNCEMENT!

rend

In rapid succession, we shall publish the
following serials :

A story of life in modern Japan, by
Enrique H. Lewis.

A companion story to “The Boy Cattle
King,” relating the further adventures of
Don Kirk, by Harry Dangerfield,

And an electrical story, by Emerson Bell.

—__+- ee ____
HOW HE MAINTAINED THEM.

 

It is related of a certain Queen of Denmark
who was visiting Iceland, that in the course
of some compliments to the Bishop, who
had been assiduous in showing her all that
was to be seen, she asked him how many
children he had.

The Danish word for ‘‘children’’ happens
to resemble very closely in sound the Ice-
landic word for ‘‘sheep,’’? and the good
Bishop confusing the two replied:

‘*Two hundred.’’

‘*Two hundred children !’’ cried the queen.
‘‘How can you possibly maintain such a
number?”’

‘‘Rasily enough, please your majesty,’?
returned the complacent prelate. ‘‘In the
summer I turn them out on the hills to
graze; and when wiuter comes I kill and eat
them.”’

——___ +e

NoBop) can-deny that postage stamp col-
lecting i: a great help in teaching boys
geograph;. Jack showed his at school,
when the t2acher asked him where Nicaragua
was and what it produced chiefly.

“It’s cn page ninety-eight,’’ said Jack,
‘‘and it produces more sets of stamps than
any other country of its size in the world.”’

 

 

Ceo 6 te

swuss COLD! GOLD! GOLD!

A Wonderful Offer!

> _

The Greatest Ever Made by Any
Boys’ Paper!

GUESS THE ENDING OF THE STORY,

THE

JACK OF DIAMONDS

And Win a Big Amount of Money!

Geis

“The Jack of Diamonds” is a splen-
did detective story, to write which the
publishers of Goop News have engaged
one of the most eminent authors in that
line of work.

This great story will be printed in
Goop News in twelve installments, be-
ginning with No. 282, issued on Septem-
ber 14. The eleventh installment will ap-
pear in No. 292, issued November 23,
and then the readers of Goop News will
have three weeks in which to make
their guesses as to the solution of the
mystery, which will be revealed in the
final installment, printed in No. 2$5.

For the first received explanation of
the last installment, which is correct
and most complete, Goop News will

$100. $100.

For the next best solutions,
One Prize of Fifty Dollars in Gold!

One Prize of Twenty-five Dollars in
Gold!

Five Prizes of Ten Dollars in Gold!

In all—T'wo Hundred and Twenty-five
Dollars !

One Hundred Dollars
in Gold!

——-.—

Now read, and guess what will be in
the last installment of

THE JACK OF DIAMONDS.

Guesses shou!d be written in plain
language, and with no attempt to write
a final installment in the author’s style.
Simply guess what the ending of the
story will be.

Guesses will be received at any time
after the publication of the first install-
ment.

The time of mailing the guess will be
taken into consideration, thus putting
all our readers, far or near, on the same
basis.

No one, except the author, not even

 

the editor of this paper, knows how the

story will end.

atoeninen > soameies

NOW, BOYS!
READ THIS MARVELOUS STORY!
PUT ON YOUR THINKING CAPS!
AND WIN A BIG PRIZE!

For further information, address
Prize Story,
Care Goop News,

New York City.

/us the nearest correct guess of the com-
| bined number of times the letter ‘‘o” (in

 

NEWS.

    

 

LETTER ‘‘O”

GUE DOING CONTEST

wera peiansianns

Magnificent Prizes

GIVEN AWAY

TO

Successful Guessers

Read Carefully the Following Terms:

 

 

To any reader of this paper who shall, at
any time on or before October 10, 1895, send

any size or style of type, capitals and italics
included) will be contained in all the
printed matter that will appear in the first
column of the second page of ten issues of
this paper, numbered 279, 280, 281, 282,
283, 284, 285, 286, 287, and 288, we will
give

A First-Class, High-Grade Bicycle!

For the second nearest guess we will give

A Gold- Filled Hunting - Case Watch,
Waltham Movement!

For the third,

A. Solid Silver Hunting - Case Watch,
Waltham Movement!

For the next twenty nearest guesses we
will give A Printing Outfit, containing
about twelve alphabets of type, a three-line
holder, self-supplying ink pad, tweezers,
quads, etc.

Guess the total for the ten issues—not a
separate guess for each issue.

Only ordinary reading matter will be put
in the first column of the second page in
the ten issues, the same as if no guessing
were going on. No one knows in advance
what reading matter will appear in these
columns, not even the editor. An official
count will be made, and the result given as
soon as possible after the last of the ten
issues is published.

The only condition of entry for the prizes
is that you send the coupon, found be-
low, with every guess. The time of mail-
ing will count—not the time of receipt.
Remember the competition closes October
10, 1895, and after that no guess can be for-
warded. Cut out the doupon you find on
this page, and send it to us with your guess,
name, and full address clearly written.

You can guess as many times as you have
coupons.

Of course, if you should take up a news-
paper or book, and find out to your satisfac-
tion how many times a given letter appears
in any page or column of a certain size, it.is
quite easy for you, with a little calculation,
to also make a guess (more or less correct,
according to the correctness of your judg-
ment) of the number of times any partic-
ular letter will appear in a given number of
pages or columns of a certain size, even if
you do not actually see more than one of
them.

For instance, if you get a right idea of the
number of times the letter ‘‘o” occurs in
the first column of the second page of this
issue of this paper, you can estimate how
many times the same letter is likely to occur
in the same column in nine futwre numbers
ot this paper, without your waiting to see
those future numbers before you make your
guess. A

We invite all of our friends to take part
in this grand Prize Competition. Large
prizes may be secured by those who are the
most clever, and use the greatest care, We
offer all our readers a remarkable oppor-
tunity to win handsome prizes.

My guess for the letter ‘‘o” is

TeOSUTB CE: ih vie Was chien hs Ue ee te i

OSB eh Ns i's ii Sale bat et es

(Cut this out, fill in the blank spaces, and
mail to LETTER “O” Contest, GOOD NEws, 29
Rose Street, New York city.]

 

   

+
a

HORT

L

TALKS =
With He Boys.

EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL.

No Names, Akron, Ohio, writes: “I am a
young man, 22 years old, a graduate of the
High School of Cleveland. I have been teach-
ing for the last year in a private school, but
the salary is small, and the chances of ad-
vancement little or nothing. I have heard
that thereis a good opportunity for a young
man to go as a teacher among the Indians.
Can you tell me anything about it? What are
the examinations, the salary, ete., and what
are the chances of obtaining an appointment?”

The classified Indian service includes all
physicians, superintendents, assistant super-
intendents, teachers, assistant teachers, and
matrons.

There are two examinations for such a
position as you desire, one known as the
‘Teacher Examination,’’? and the other as
the ‘‘Superintendent and Principal Teacher
Examination.’’ Those who pass the super-
intendent and principal teacher examination
will be eligible to either position.

Teachers should possess all those rare
qualifications required for complete success
in teaching white children in the public
schools. Men should be familiar with all
kinds of farm work, and be able to give in-
struction in the management of a farm. In
many of the reservation schools, the teacher
combines the duties of superintendent and
principal teacher.

The age limit for superintendent is from
twenty-five to fifty, and teacher from twenty
to fifty.

The subjects on which teachers are ex-
amined and the relative weights given to
each are as follows:

Suvjects.

Relative)
Weights.

 

First--Penmanshbip.................---
Second—Personal questions..........
Third—Orthography ...............-..
Fourth—School management.........
Fifth—Arithmetic..........22.........
Sixth—Geometry:..- 2... 2 eee
Seventh—Geography....-.............
Righth—Grammar.................--..
Ninth—History and Government of

the United States... ...-.s.0.-....2..
Tenth—Natural History...............
Eleventh—Ameriean literature... ....
Twelfth—Physiology and hygiene....
Thirteenth—Methodology.............
Fourteenth—History of education....

Ro Oe

et >

moo

 

20

 

 

POLAL, .ikbiiss ka ou eee nike waded Sa

A candidate must attain at least seventy
per cent. to be eligible.

Registers for the Indian service are made
up by districts, there being four districts.
The name of each eligible will be entered
upon the register of eligibles for the district
in which he resides, and, upon his written
request, after he has received his notice of
standing, his name will be entered upon the
register of any one or more of the other
districts, provided he states in writing that
he is willing to accept service wherever
assigned in the district or districts named
by him. The request to have the name en-
tered on the register of other districts than
the one in which the applicant resides should
be made after the notice of standing has
been received. No note can be made of such
requests until the papers are marked. The
districts are as follows: No. 1, the States of
Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Ne-
braska, North Dakota, South Dakota, Mon-
tana, and Wyoming; No. 2, the States of
Idaho, Washington, Oregon, Nevada, Cali-
fornia (north of the thirty-seventh parallel
of latitude), and the Territory of Utah; No.
8, California (south of the thirty-seventh
parallel of latitude), Arizona, New Mexico,
Oklahoma, Indian Territory, Colorado,
Kansas, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, and
Texas; No. 4, all the States not embraced in
the foregoing and the District of Columbia.

Appointments to the position of super-
intendent are very rare, and those who have
passed the superintendent examination may
be certified from the teacher registers if,
after they receive their notice of standing,
they signify to the Commission their wish to
be so certified. The appointments from the
teacher registers are numerous,

The salaries of teachers range from $660
to $900; the salary of. a superintendent is
never less than $900, few positions pay
from $1,200 to $2,000 per annum, but ap-
pointments are seldom made “at these sal-
aries.

The chances for appointment as teachers
are excellent, as the supply of eligibles is
frequently not equal to the demand.

SprciraL Notick.—Many communications,
improperly addressed to this department,
are answered in the ‘‘Mail Bag.’’

a a a

Johnnie (visiting)—‘‘Can I have another
biscuit?’’

Jobnnie’s Ma—‘‘Why, Johnnie, what an
appetite you have!’’
Johnnie—‘*H’m.

me, ma.’’

You’re two ahead of

 

i act

 
 

 

 

2 EE sp Ee

 

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

IN BARRACKS AND WICWAM:

OR,

The Wouns (Reeruit of the Seventh Cavalry. |

By WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON.

Author of ‘The White King of Africa,” “

Jungles and Traitors,”

;
:

“6 Write

i to Siberia,’- rte.

(‘IN BARRACKS AND WIGWAM” was commenced last week.|

CHAPTER IV.

STARTLING NEWS.

“yr, yY ANGED if it an’t Linn Hilliard!”
* cried a gruff and familiar voice.
C **Bless me, I’d never have believed
A> it.’’

Linn twisted around in his captor’s grasp, |

and recognized a watchman with whom he
was on friendly terms.
‘‘Let me go, Sanders,’’
‘Do; that’s a good fellow.
any harm.”’
‘*T an’t sure of that,’’
‘‘No; I can’t let you

he
I’m not

whispered.
up to

replied Sanders.

|

de
|
the east fence. Then he jumped up, intend- |
ing to bolt for the fence, and that quickly I |
grabbed him,’

‘“Do you know
grounds?’?

‘*T ean’t tell you that, sir,’’ stated San-
ders, ‘‘but I’m sure he didn’t come in by
the gate. Martin is on guard there, and he
hasn’t opened it since sundown.’’

“‘Then he no doubt scaled the fence,’’ sug- |
gested Captain Cameron. ‘‘Make an exam- |
ination inthe morning, Sanders, and report
to me if you find any of the spikes off.”?

Turning to Linn, the captain added:

‘*T shall give you another chance to con-!

how he into the

rot

?

| conducted to the gate in grim silence,

| he tells my father.

NEWS.

eer Tee ae ee

 

and
landed outside the grounds.

The lad’s pent-up feelings burst forth as
he walked rapidly homeward through the

|cool night. He was angry at himself, at
Captan Cameron, and most of all at Bruce

and Steve. Healso felt considerably worried.

‘“‘A nice scrape I’m in!’’ he muttered,
half aloud. ‘‘This is what I get for trying
to do those reckless fellows a good turn,
and screening them from exposure. I’ve
lost Captain Cameron’s good opinion, and I
don’t see any chance of getting it back
again.
Pl to

I suppose have

his breakfast any the less because it was

There will be a stormy time when |

face the music as I did this evening, and re- |

fuse to say anything.

‘I’ve accomplished one thing, though.
Bruce and Steve won’t dream of carrying
out their plot now, and they’ll likely aban
don it altogether. When I was caught Bruce

must have slipped into the house by a side |

door, and gone to bed. And I’ll bet any-
thing Steve was hiding in the. bushes close
enough to hear all that was said on
porch. He may be there yet, but it’s most

the |

likely he slipped out of the grounds ahead |

|} of me, and hurried back to college.

‘*T hope he did hear everything, and will

eaten in solitude.

At afew minutes past ten o’clock inn
left the house, and walked rapidly toward
the bank. He supposed that Captain Cam-
eron had called on his father by this time,
and he was resolved to face the music at
once, and thus end his.worry and uncer
tainty in one way or another.

The banker was seated at his desk, which
was strewn with the morning’s opened let
ters, and when the lad entered he looked up
with a grave and stern expression.

‘I knew it,’’ thought Linn. ‘‘Now
the storm.”’

But his father’s first words dispelled the
conviction
‘‘What is it, my son?’’ he said, hurriedly.
[ am very busy this morning. I can’t be
disturbed.’? 3

‘“‘Why, I thought—oh, nothing, particu
lar, sir,’’ stammniered Linn. ‘‘] just dropped
in. ae thought perhaps you might want
me.

With a gesture of impatience, Mr. Hil-
liard turned to his correspondence: then he
changed his mind as quickly, and wheeled

for

ts

| around in his chair.

‘*I] have a piece of news for you,’’ he said,
‘*“but you had better not

 

go, Linn — it’s against
orders. And yonder is
the captain now.’

Sure enough, the door
of the house had sud-
denly opened, casting a
flood of light onto the
porch, and revealing the
stalwart figure of Cap-
tain Cameron. His keen
ears must have at once
detected the watch-
man’s rather highly
pitched voice.

‘Is that you, San-
ders?’’ he called sharp-
ly. ‘*What is the mat-
ter? Anything wrong?”’

‘Coming, sir,’’ San-
ders answered. ‘‘There
is no help for it, my
boy,’? he added, in a
whisper to Linn. ‘‘ You
have got to face the
music. ’’

Linn felt himself to
be in a tight place, and
he had no idea how he
was going to get out of
the scrape. But he
stoutly resolved not to
clear himself by betray-
ing the conspirators,
and with as much nerve
and self-possession as he
could summon, -he suf-
fered the watchman to
lead him to the porch,
and into the glare of
light that shone from
the hall.

With an exclamation
of surprise, Captain
Cameron glanced at the
captive.

“Tt is Linn Hilliard,’
he said, not unkindly.
‘‘There is surely some
mistake about this, San-
ders. I dare say it can
be readily explained.
What are you doing in
the grounds at this time
of night, my boy? How
did you get in?’’

“7 can’t tell you,
sir,’’ Linn answered.

‘*You can’t tell me?
exclaimed the captain.
‘*What do you mean?’’

‘‘T mean that I have
reasons for refusing to
answer your questions,
Captain Cameron—good
and honorable reasons.

 

’

9

let it go any farther at
present. Captain Cam-
eron’s wife was here in
her carriage a few mo-
ments ago to draw some
more money. The five
hundred dollars I sent
him last evening was
stolen in the night.”’

“Stolen?’’ gasped
Linn, his face turning
all colors.

He dropped limply in-
to a chair.

‘*Yes, stolen,’’ said
the banker, regarding
his son curiously.
‘‘EKvery dollar of it.
The money was in an
old-fashioned secretary,
and the ‘lid was forced
open with a chisel from
one of the Indian work-
rooms.’?

**Who—who took it?”?
Linn asked, hoarsely.
‘*Do they know???

*“Your friend, Deer-
foot, was the thief.’ re-
plied the banker. ‘‘He
must have climbed up
to the window by the
vines. He was captured
at an early hour this
morning while trying to
escape, but only twenty-
five dollars was found
on him. He denies the
robbery, and insists
that the money was
given to him. No doubt
the young ruffian has
artfully concealed the
balance of the notes.’

‘Pll never believe
that of Deerfoot,’’ ex-
claimed Linn, thrown
off his guard by indig-
nation and by his sud-
den realization of the
infamous plot. ‘‘Never!
There is surely some one

else mixed up in the
crime.’’
‘Very likely,’’ as-

sented the banker. ‘‘In-
deed, Mrs. Cameron in-
timated that the Indian
was suspected to have
a confederate. I can’t
understand her actions.
She behaved queerly,
very queerly, as though
she had some secret on
her mind. The captain
will not leave for Wash-

 

 

I beg you to believe
that I came here for no

wrongful purpose.’’
‘«Then you cannot per-

sist in keeping silence,’’ said the captain.

‘‘Come, my boy, let me hear your story.’’
Linn shook his head and said nothing.

‘*You are acting very unwisely,’’ said
the captain. ‘‘If you came here with no

wrongful intent yourself perhaps you are
sereening some one else. Is that so?’’

To this abrupt question Linn gave neither
denial nor assent, and after waiting in
silence for a moment a sudden’ thought oc-
curred to Captain Cameron, and he stepped
inside the hall.

‘Bruce, Bruce,’’ he called loudly up the
Stairs. ‘‘Are you there?’’ ‘

The summons was twice repeated, and

WITH SCARCELY A SOUND THE BU

 

then a door was heard to open on the second |

floor, and Bruce’s drowsy voice answered:
**T’m in bed, father. Do you want me?’
‘*No, it’s all right,’’ replied the captain,

in a tone of relief; and as the door closed he |

stepped out to the porch again.
He glanced sternly at Linn,
turned to the watchman.

and then

‘‘Let me‘hear your story,’’ he demanded. | keep a closer watch than usual on the

9)?

“‘Where did you find the lad
‘*When I first seen him,
Sanders,

sir,’?

‘‘he was creeping along on his
hands and knees half way between here and | house, and closed the

|
|

replied | o’clock.’’

fess, my boy. This is a serious matter, re-
member, and may lead to very ugly conse-
quences, Consider well before you answer.’

‘tT have considered, sir,’’ said Linn, plead-
ingly. ‘‘‘Iam very sorry, but I can’t tell
you anything. I can only repeat that I
same here for no bad purpose.’’

‘*And this is your last word?”’

‘*My last, sir,’’ Linn replied, firmly.

Captain Cameron looked keenly
thoughtfully at the lad for a moment.

‘‘T regret this occurrence exceedingly,’’
he said, coldly, ‘‘and I feel it my duty to
speak to your father. Ishali probably see
him to-morrow morning, as I have post-
poned my journey until an afternoon train.
You may go home now. Sanders will see
you outside of the grounds.’’
~ ¢* And then shall [ look, round a bit more, |
sir?’’ asked the watchman, ‘‘in case any one
else should be lurking about——’’

‘‘T don’t think that will be necessary,’’
interrupted the captain, ‘‘but suppose you

and

quarters—until you go off duty at three
Cameron entered the

With this Captain
door, while Linn was

 

| his set.

tell Bruce. Anyway, Bruce will get the
story from his father, and if there’s any
good left in him—and I’m sure there is—he
will make up with me, and drop Steve and

The above reflections put Linn into a more |

easy frame of mind by the time he reached

the town. Heslipped into the house, mounted |
noiselessly to his own room, and was asleep |

almost as soon as his head pressed the _ pil-
low. And whatever dreams visited him in
slumber, assuredly none forecast the ter-
rible results of the night’s events—the trag-
edy that was to blacken his young life on
the morrow.

The next day was Saturday, and when
Linn got awake his first thought was that he
was free from studies and recitations. Then
he remembered the experience of the night
before, and he felt uncomfortable at the
prospect of the promised interview between
his father and Captain Cameron.

He bad slept two hours beyond his usual

time, for the bronze clock on the mantel |

pointed to half-past nine. He dressed quickly
and went down stairs. His father had gone

 

SHES ON THE EDGE OF THE RUN PARTED, AND INTO THE LITTLE GLADE DROPPED DEERFOOT.

 

|

ington until to-morrow,
and he,sent word that
he would call on me this
‘*That is enough now. I am too
busy to answer any more questions. Oh,
here is a_letter that came for you this
morning. Rather an illiterate correspondent,

afternoon.

So, after all, my night’s adventure | I should judge.’’
| may turn out for the best.’

He turned to his desk, after handing Linn
an envelope on which his name and address
were inscribed in printed and illy spelled
characters.

With a careless glance the lad thrust the
missive into his pocket and left the bank,
his face flushed and excited. He went
straight home, locked himself in his room,
and sat down to consider the terrible and
perplexing situation in which he found him-
self.

CHAPTER V.

THE SEARCH FOR THE CULPRITS.

er

yf needed but brief consideration to
3 make clear to Linn the meaning of all
that he had overheard on the previous
night. Each well-remembered sentence
stood out in anew and significant guise,
and in the light of the morning’s events the
whole treacherous and criniinal plot was re-

 
 
  

2s

to the bank, of course, and he did not enjoy | vealed beyond a shadow of doubt.

 
 

4538

GOOD NEWS.

 

 

 

‘‘ Ves, I see it all,’? exclaimed the heart-
sick Jad, beginning to pace the floor in his

anger and excitement. ‘‘Steve Halsey is
most to blame. Of his own accord Bruce

could never have stooped to so mean and
dastardly an act. And it happened just in
this way. Deerfoot resolved to escape, and
on account of the precautions that have

been taken lately, he found it necessary to |

confide in some one, and get assistance. He}
knew that it must be either Bruce or my-
self, for we have both been friendly with

him of late. So he chose Bruce, because I
have always tried to persuade him to be
contented, and to put up with his lot.

‘*No doubt he and Bruce had a talk over
the matter some time yesterday, and in the
afternoon Bruce saw his father lock the five
hundred dollars in the secretary. Then he
goes off and tells Steve, and the two of
them, tempted by so large a sum of money,
hatch out the plot to steal it; and in such a
way that Deerfoot will get the blame. They
counted on the Indian escaping entirely,
but they

is just what has happened.

**T can imagine how the plot was carried
out. I can see it all as plainly as though I
had been there. After I left the grounds last
night Steve stayed there, hidden in the
bushes. Then, when his father was sound
asleep and all was quiet, Bruce noiselessly
broke open the secretary with the chisel he
had stolen from the work-rooms, took the
money, and slipped out of the house to join
Steve. No doubt Steve left the grounds, and
hurried home with the four hundred and
seventy-five dollars. By this time Deerfoot
had likely escaped from the sleeping quar-
ters, and he met Bruce by appointment in

some lonely spot amid the shrubbery. Bruce |

gave him the twenty-five dollars, and made
him promise never to tell where he got it, or
who helped him to escape. Then Bruce crept
back to bed, and a little later Deerfoot was
nabbed by Sanders while trying to get over
the fence.’’

With a groanof despair, Linn dropped
down on the bed and covered his face with
his hands.

‘‘And now what am I going to do about
it?’’ he went on, half aloud. ‘‘Steve has the
stolen money hidden away, and he and
Bruce think themselves perfectly secure.
And they have every reason to think so.
know Deerfoot well enough for that. Though

part of the stolen money has been found on }

him, and the evidence all shows that he
climbed up by the vines to Captain Camer-
on’s room, his dogged Indian sense of honor
and truth will prove his ruin. He has prom-
ised to be silent, and he won’t say a word
to clear himself, or to shift the crime on
Bruce and Steve, A team of wild horses
wouldn’t be able to drag anything out of

him. What am I going to do?’?’
For some minutes Linn sat on the bed,

pondering and puzzling over the situation.
His mind was so full of pity and sympathy
for Deerfoot, and of hot indignation against
Bruce and Steve, that he quite overlooked
a matter of vital importance to himself.

It never entered his head that strong cir-
cumstantial evidence existed to connect him
with the robbery—to put him under sus-
picion of being Deerfoot’s confederate. He
did not stop to reflect on the cause of Mrs.
Cameron’s strange actions in the banker’s
office that morning, or to conjecture why
Captain Cameron intended to call on his
father in the afternoon.

When the clock on the mantel pealed the
hour of noon in silvery tones, Linn’s look of
hesitation and perplexity suddenly vanished.
He rose to his feet and put on his cap.

**T don’t know how this thing.is going to
end,’’ he said to himself, ‘‘and I can’t see
much chance for those reckless fellows to
escape detection and punishment. But one
thing is certain, Deerfoot sha’n’t suffer for
a crime he never committed. I’m going to
hunt up Bruce and Steve now, and tell them
all J know. ‘ And what I do after that will
depend on themselves. Either they must
make a clean breast of it, or I will.”’

Linn was about to leave the room when
he remembered the queer letter his father
had handed him. He sat down again and
opened the envelope. Inside was a bit of
paper, on which was drawn, with rude
skill, a very odd-looking sketch.

A mass of rocks, with a black hole at the
base, seemed about to topple into a pool of
water. Over the top of the rocks peeped an
exaggerated sun, with rays flashing at all
angles. At one corner of the chart ‘‘Deer-
foot’’ was printed in scrawling letters.

The paper contained no more than this,
but its hidden meaning was apparent to
Linn at almost the first glance.

‘**Here’s a queer go!’’ he muttered. ‘‘ Poor
Deerfoot! he intended to make for Alex-
ander’s cave after his escape, and hide there
until the pursuit had blown over. Accord-
ing to this he expected me to meet him
there at sunrise—no, it must be sunset, and
it means to-night. I suppose he wanted to
say good-by, knowing that I wouldn’t urge
him to go back after he was once free. Or
perhaps he wanted me to help him in some
way! Well, it don’t matter one way or an-
other now. The poor fellow is a tight pris-
oner, and won’t be likely to keep his en-
gagement,.’’

Linn carelessly stuffed the chart and en-
velope into his pocket, and left the house.

took good care to secure them- |
selves in case he should be captured—which |

| He went straight toward the college, halt | It was a stunning surprise, and they were
expecting to find Bruce and Steve in the| thrown quite off their guard. Bruce turned
iaticte room. | pale and trembled; the cards fell from his
The town wore its usual quiet and peace-| limp fingers, and with the other hand he
| ful aspect, which was certain evidence that | upset his glass of wine. Steve also~ turned
{the robbery at the Indian school had not| pale under his ruddy skin, but he showed
| yet been made public. The college campus| less agitation than his companion. He looked
| was filled with students lounging and chat-| up with an angry scowl, and tossed a card
ting under the shade of the great trees, and | down on the stone.
at the street gate Linn met a lad who} ‘‘What are you doing here, Linn Hil-
| roomed next to Steve. liard?’’ he demanded, in a sneering tone.
| ‘Hallo, Jack!’’+he said. ‘‘Seen anything | ‘‘I never knew such a fellow for turning up
|of Halsey this morning? Is he in his room?’’| at odd times. It looks mightily much as
‘*No,’’? was the reply. ‘‘Cameron came); though you were dogging us.
for him two hours ago, and they went away ‘tGo on, Bruce,’’ he added.
together. Steve had his fishing-rod and a| play.’’
lunch-basket. You’ll likely find them at the} He picked up his glass of wine and coolly
| creek,’’ drained the contents.

‘*Tt’s your

‘‘Thanks,’’ said Linn, briefly, and with-| ‘‘You made us jump, Linn, bolting out

’ 4 ’ | ‘ ’
out more words he circled around the cor-|on us in that way,’’ said Bruce, beginning
ner of the campus, and soon found himself|to gather up his cards with trembling

fingers. ‘‘Of course we’re not doing any-
thing wrong—just having a little fun on the
quiet. Did you want to see me?’’

‘¢Yes,’? replied Linn, ‘‘I wanted to see
both of you. I want+hat four hundred and
seventy-five dollars.’’

The boys fairly gasped with fright, and
guilt was quickly stamped on their haggard
faces.

in the open country.

‘*They’ve gone to the dam,’’ he reflected,
|'as he took a short cut through fields and
woods, ‘‘for Steve keepsa boat out there.

3ut the fishing is alla bluff. They want a
chance to talk things over in quiet, and as
| likely as not they’ve got the stolen money
I’d like to
what

with them in the lunch-basket.
hide it—for that’s

}

see where they
they’re sure to do.”’ ! ‘‘T—T don’t understand, Linn,’’ said
: The dam referred to, which supplied the) Bruce. ‘‘What money are you _ talking

about?’’ ‘

‘*The money that you and Steve stole from
your father last night,’’ declared Linn.
‘*You gave Deerfoot twenty-five dollars of

| town with water, was on the Conodoguinet |
Creek, and lay rather more than a mile to|
the westward of Carlisle. And half a mile|
down the lonely and wooded reaches of the |
creek, in a great cliff that towered sheerly | it, and you have the rest with you now.”’
|aloft from almost the water’s edge, was}. ‘‘You’re a fool, Linn Hilliard,’’ cried
| Alexander’s Cave; where Deerfoot had/| Steve, jumping up and clinching bis fists.
) 10ped to hide for a time, and where he had | ‘‘Do you dare to call mea thief? Just say
| it again.”’

‘*T do say it again,’’ replied Linn, stand-
ing fearlessly on his guard. ‘‘You’re a
thief, Steve Halsey, and you know it. It

 
 

;

| Sent word to his friend Linn to meet him.

The cave was an ancient place, weird and |
uncanny of reputation, and seldom. visited |
by even the most ventursome of people. It |

had a broad, high entrance, which con-| was you who dragged Bruce into this.’’
tinued inward for a hundred feet or more, Steve flushed with rage, and made a mo-

tion to strike. But he prudently changed
his mind, and lowered his arms, with a
mocking laugh.

‘‘What’s the use of fighting?’’ he mut-
tered. ‘‘I’d hit you quick enough, Linn,
but I can afford to overlook such crazy
talk. You are surely out of your senses.

and then terminated in a narrow hole at the
top of a steep ledge of rocks.

From here a multiplicity of passages,
wound and entangled with one another,
were said to lead in numerous directions,
none having an exit to the outer air, and all
terminating hopelessly in the bowels of the
earth. The idea of calling us thieves! Now if ‘it

There was a well-founded story to the! was the other way——’’
effect that years ago, when Carlisle was an ) ‘‘What do you mean?’’ demanded Linn.
army-post, a soldier and his dog had en- ‘‘Oh, nothing in particular,’’ said Steve,
tered Alexander’s Cave to explore it. Aj|darting a quick and meaning glance at
week later the dog turned up at the gar- : Bruce. ‘‘But you seem to know a great deal
rison, worn to a skeleton, and with his hide| about this robbery, considering that the
scraped and torn by squirming through news hasn’t reached the town yet.” ‘
sharp stones. But the soldier was never| ‘‘I heard it from my father,’’ said Linn,
found nor heard of again; nor could any /|‘‘and he got it from Mrs. Cameron. But
one discover the exit by which the animal | long before that——’’
had escaped from underground. ‘Then you haven’t seen Captain Cameron

Naturally, this story—which was fully | yet?’’ interrupted Steve, in a peculiar tone,
credited—prevented any further or complete | and with another glance at Bruce.
explorations of the cave. The college stu- ‘‘Not yet,’’ Linn answered, ‘‘but I intend
dents frequently went in for a short dis-

to see him to-day.’’
tance, and twice Linn and Deerfoot had He wondered vaguely and uneasily what
penetrated to the first turn beyond the

this strange question could mean.
ledge. The young Sioux had known some- ‘‘The captain is more anxious to see you
thing of caves in the West, and he had more | than you are to see him,’’ Steve went on.
than once boasted his willingness to go|‘‘If [ were you, Linn, I would skip out
through this one from end to end.

while I had the chance.’’
It was early in the afternoon when Linn! ‘‘I don’t know what you are driving at,’
reached the water-work’s dam. An old man

Linn é¢ried, angrily, ‘‘but you are on a
was fishing from a rock on the opposite side | wrong tack somewhere. Look here, do you
of the creek, but there was no sign of Bruce | fellows know that I wasin the grounds of
and Steve. That they had been here was/| the Jndian school last night?’’
certain, however. Steve’s boat, which he ‘*Do we know it?’’ laughed Steve. ‘Well,
kept in an eddy a short distance below the|I should say so! And others know it, too.
overshoot, was missing.

I never gave you credit for so much cheek
‘‘T’l] find them somewhere down stream,’’ | ——’’

Linn concluded, ‘‘and I hope it will be on
this side. If they’ve landed on the other
shore I’ll have to go a mile below to the
bridge—unless I can run across a boat.’’

Slowly and warily the lad tramped down
the bank of the creek, keeping under the
trees and bushes, and watching on all sides |
and ahead.

Nearly half a mile below the dam he came
to where a tiny stream trickled through a
densely wooded ravine into the creek. Just
across the ravine towered a rocky hill, and
here began the narrow path that led, be-
tween the water’s edge and the base of the
cliff, to the mouth of Alexander’s Cave. It
was a lonely spot, and one rarely visited.

Linn paused, listened, and crept closer to
the bank of the creek. He suddenly caught
sight of the missing boat pulled far up into
the shaded channel of the rivulet, and at the
same instant he detected low voices near by.

With a fast-beating heart he stepped
across the stream and cautiously parted a
fringe of bushes on the opposite bank. «His
search was ended at last.

In a shady nook under the trees, with a
flat stone between them, sat Steve and Bruce.

They were smoking short pipes, and each
held a handful of cards. On the surface of
the rock were more cards, a heap of. silver
coins, and two glasses of wine. From the
open lunch-basket, which stood near by,
protruded a green bottle anda parcel of
sandwiches.

 

‘‘But do you know that I heard every
word you and Bruce said when you were
hidden in the bushes?’’ Linn interrupted;
‘(that I heard you laying your dastardly
plans to steal the money and fasten the
crime on Deerfoot? Now deny it, if you
can. I sereened you last night, to my own
cost, but the truth has got to come out
now.”’

It was only too evident that this was news
to Bruce and Steve—that they had hereto-
fore been under the impression that Linn
had not overheard a word of their’ conver-
sation. The guilty lads stood silent and
trembling, looking furtively at each other.
It was pitiful to see the terror and con-
fusion stamped on their faces.

Steve edged back, and leaned half de-
fiantly against a tree. Bruce struggled hard
to keep his self-control, and then broke
down utterly, bursting into tears.

‘*You won’t tell, Linn, will you?’’ he
whimpered, imploringly. ‘‘Now, when it’s
too late [ see what a fool I’ve been. Help
me out of this scrape, Linn, and 1711 never
get into another one. If father finds out

’

‘‘Shut up, you cowardly cry-baby,’’ ex-
claimed Steve. ‘‘Don’t confess to a_ lie.
You know we never stole'that money.’’

‘‘We did,’’ sobbed Bruce, ‘‘and I won’t
shut up. I wish I’d never seen you, Steve
Halsey. It’s well enough for you to talk,
with your father dead, and only a guardian
to get in a row\with. But look at me! My
father will take me away trom college, and
make me enlist as a private in the army—
he threatened to do it over and over again,
and this time there’s no escape. Why, I’d
rather be dead than lead such a dog’s life. ,

‘‘Do save me, Linn,’’ he went on, tear-
fully. ‘‘I’ll doanything you say—lI’ll never

 

CHAPTER VI.

A FALSE ACCUSATION.

oe INN hesitated but a moment. —Hav-
t/ ing taken in the scene at a_ brief
; glance, he stepped suddenly out from
G@-~” the bushes, and confronted the un-

 
 

 

 

suspecting boys. have anything more to do with Steve and

:

 

his set. Only don’t let my father know of
this. For the sake of old times, Linn, stand
by me.’’

‘‘And how about Deerfoot?’’ Linn cried,
indignantly. ‘‘Is the poor fellow to suffer

for a crime he never committed, after you
encouraged him to escape, and led him into

the trap, and gave him part of the stolen
money? Why, it was the meanest and most
dastardly thing [ ever heard of. And you
know well that Deerfoot will be torn apart
before he wiil clear himself by telling the
truth!

‘*1’m afraid it’s too late for repentance,
Bruce. I warned you over and over again,
and now you must take the consequences of
not listening to me. Steve is mostly to
blame, but that don’t excuse you. I’m
sorry for you, but I must do my duty all
the same. Deerfoot is my friend, and he
must be cleared at any cost.’’

‘Of course he must,’’? Bruce readily ad-
mitted. ‘‘I know that, Linn. Suppose I put
the money back, and get Deerfoot’s inno-

| cence proved without giving myself away—

will you keep mum then about what you
know?’?

‘*T don’t see how such a thing is pos-
sible,’’ Linn answered, doubtfully. ‘‘You’re
too deep in it for that, and it will take
more than you think to clear Deerfoot en-
tirely.’’

‘*] know it won’t be easy,’’ declared
Bruce, ‘‘but I’ll find a way to do it. Just
trust me for that, and give me until this
evening. The queston is, will you prom-
ise?”?

Linn hesitated a moment.

‘*T will give you until to-night,’’ he re-
luctantly answered. ‘‘If Deerfoot is proved
innocent by that time I will keep your se-
cret.’’

‘‘Thank you, Linn, thank you,’’ Bruce
cried, gratefully. ‘‘I’ll never forget this.
You’ll see how differently I intend to be-
have in the future.’’

Meanwhile Steve had been leaning against
the tree behinc Linn, listening to the con-
versation with anger and scorn, and with
an expression on his face that indicated deep
and cunning thought.

Now he stepped quickly forward, holding
a thick envelope partly concealed behind
him. As be passed Linn, purposely jostling
against him, he softly and skillfully slipped
the envelope deep into the latter’s coat
pocket. Then he advanced to Bruce, drew
him a few feet to one side, and began to
whisper inaudibly into his ear.

Bruce changed color at the first words,
and a look of horror aud aversion came over
his face; he shook his head, and whispered
something in reply. But a moment later, as
Steve continued talking to him, he seemed
to yield and assent, anda strange gleam
shone in his eyes.

‘I wonder what’s up now?’’ thought
Linn. ‘‘Steve is putting more deviltry into
Bruce’s head, and he’s winning him over,
too. I can’t let this go on. I’m sorry I
made that promise.’’

He was about to interfere when a sudden
and startling thing happened. With scarcely
a sound the bushes on the edge of the run
parted, and into the little glade. dropped
Deerfoot, limping painfully, and gasping
hard for breath.

>

In spite of the partial school uniform fhat _

he wore—the blue trousers and flannel shirt
—the young Indian pupil was transformed
for the time being into a wild and untutored
savage. His bosom heaved proudly, and
his swarthy face was stamped with cruel
hatred and defiance,

He was terribly exhausted, and as the
three lads clustered around him he sank
limply down on the stone.

‘*You help mé hide,’’ he panted, seeing,
as he supposed, that he was among friends.
‘‘Me jump from window—hurt foot when
climb fence—no able run fast—they after
me now.’?

Just then the crashing of bushes and the
thud of hoofs was heard close by, and _ be-
fore Deerfoot could get to his feet Captain
Cameron and two of the school guards—all
mounted on horses—cleared the run at a
leap, and rode on a trot into the glade.

The captain’s companions instantly dis-
mounted and seized Deerfoot. The young
Sioux struggled hard and desperately, but
in his exhausted condition. he was speedily
overcome and held fast.

‘*Well done, men,’’ said Captain Cam-
eron, as he swung himself off his steed. ‘‘I
don’t think he will give you any more
trouble. You here, Bruce! How does this
come?

‘*And you, Linn,’’ he added, in a stern
and grave tone. ‘‘I am spared the’ painful
necessity of a visit to your father. You will
accompany me back to the school. I wish
to have a conversation with you—and on no
pleasant subject.’’

Meanwhile Steve had taken advantage of
the confusion to thrust cards, glasses, and
wine bottle into the bushes. Now, hearing
the captain’s words to Linn, he shot @
meaning glance at Bruce and stepped for-
ward.

‘*You have the right party, Captain Cam-
eron,’’ he said, loudly. ‘‘It was Linn Hil-
liard who stole the money last night. We
made him own up to it just before you
came.”’

(TO BE CONTINUED. )

 

 

 

 

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_ Was my mother.
‘he smashed nearly every pane of glass in
our cottage!’’

_ “Really, is it possible!’’ ejaculated Mr.

FOOT

 

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

BY PLUCK ALONE;
Ralph Nelson’s Upward Struggle,

BY HARVEY HICKS,
Author of “The Tour of the Zero Club,’ ‘Tom
Truxton’s School-Days,’ ‘Mat Merriman
Abroad,” etc., ete.

-

 

(“By PLUCK ALONE” was commenced in No. 277.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER XXIII.

RALPH’S STRANGE PASSENGERS.

  

Ralph had procured employment at
¢ Glen Arbor. She knew her son un-
x derstood boats thoroughly, so she
was not alarmed over the prospects, even
though he had had such a thrilling experi-
ence at the time of Dock Brady’s rescue.

‘‘It will bring us in money steadily,
mother,’’ Ralph said, ‘‘and that is what we
need,’’

‘‘T do not know what I would do without
you, Ralph,’’ she returned, fondly. ‘‘You
have been the supporter of the family since
your poor father was taken away.’’

‘‘T’ve been thinking, mother,’’ went on
the son, after a spell of silence. ‘‘I havea
good mind to use fifteen dollars of that
money I have in advertising for those miss-
ing property papers.’’

“Dv you think it will do any good?”’

‘It won’t do any harm. 1 hate to put out
the money, but I guess we can stand it now.
The boating season will last for two months,
and more yet.’’

‘‘Yes, Ralph, and we can save all you
earn over six dollars a week. Of course the
money is yours——”’

‘“No more mine than my dear mother’s,’
he interrupted. ‘‘I think we ought to save
what we can.’’

‘It is best, so that we will not have to
touch what is in the bank should you not
strike another situation at once after the
boating season closes.’’ ‘

‘‘But you are willing I should advertise,
are you not, mother?’’ <

“Oh, yes, Ralph. We must obtain the
papers, if possible. If there is really a boom
in Westville real estate this lake shore
property ought to become valuable.’’

‘“T thought of putting an advertisement in
the County Record, and also one in the
Chambersburgh Leader. Those are the prin-
cipal papers read around here.’?

“That is so, Ralph. But do you know
their rates?’’

‘*T will write and find out.’’

On Monday night, after a pleasant day on
the lake with Mr. Larkins and his young
friends, Ralph sat down and wrote the let-
ters. ‘Two days later the replies came back.

’

“He found the advertising rates of both

journals quite moderate, and at once sent
each an advertisement, to appear in the
Lost and Found column several issues.

Mr. Larkins liked the sailing and fishing

so well, as well as the efforts of the young

skipper to please him and his party, that he
hired the sloop for both Wednesday and
Thursday additional. Ralph took them up
and down Keniscot Lake several times, and
also through the draw and down Silver
Lake. 5

On the latter trip Ralph saw Percy Paget,
who sat on the bridge, talking earnestly to
Dan Pickley. The young aristocrat stared
hard at Ralph.

‘‘In a new business, eh?’’ he sneered, as
the sloop ran through the draw.

Ralph paid no attention to him, and soon
they were too far away from the bridge for
Percy to attempt to say more,

‘‘Who is that young man?’’

asked Mr.

Larkins, with a considerable show of inter-

est.

‘““That is Percy Paget, the son of the
Village squire,’’ returned Ralph.

‘*A friend of yours?’’

‘No, sir,’? and there was a decided ring
in the boy’s tones. ‘‘If anything, he is my
worst enemy.’’ ;

“‘T imagine he is nct a very nice youth,”’
went on the gentleman. :

‘‘He is not, sir. He is very overbearing,
and will do anything, no matter how mean,
if he can’t have his own way.’’ ‘

‘*I believe you, Ralph. I met him once

_. before, at a hotel back of Westville, with a
_ chum of his, and he was telling how he was

going to get square with somebody who had
done something he did not like.’’

“Did he say what he was going to do?”?
asked Ralph, with not a little curiosity.

‘‘He said something about smashing some
glass.’’

‘He did!’’ Ralph was all attention.now.
‘* And did he mention any names, sir?’’

‘“T did not hear the whole talk. I believe
he spoke of scaring the widow to death.’’

“fT thought so,’’ returned Ralph, bitterly.

‘‘Why, Ralph, do you know anything of
this affair?’?

“Indeed, I do, sir. The widow he spoke of
Less than two weeks ago

 

Larkins. ‘tHe must be a thoroughly bad
boy !”?

‘* He is, sir,”’

‘‘Did you suspect him?’’

‘*¥ did. But I had no proofs, and he is
rich, while we are poor.’’

‘‘That doesn’t make it right to smash
windows,’’ said the young lady, Mr. Lar-
kins’ niece,

‘tT know it, but it makes it harder for one
to obtain justice, especially as in this case,
when the boy’s father is squire.”’

‘*T suppose that is so,’’ said Mr. Larkins.
‘¢What was the trouble?”’

‘*It’s rather a long story, sir.
it if you care to listen.”’

All were more than willing, and Ralph
related his trials as the boat sped on its
way. He had three close listeners.

‘*Tt’s too bad!’’ cried the young lady.
‘Uncle Will, cannot you help Mr. Nelson to
recover damages from this Paget boy?”’

‘‘T don’t know but what I can. Still my
evidence may not be sufficient to prove him
guilty.’’

‘*T won’t bother you to do it,’’
Ralph. ‘‘The glass is in again, and paid for,
so let it rest. But if he ever tries to do us
harm again I’ll tell him what I know,”’

‘*Do so, and 1 will give you my address,

3ut Ill tell

in case you need my testimony,’’ returned |

Ralph’s patron.

On Friday Ralph was idle, so far as boat-
ing was concerned, but he put in a full day
in the vegetable garden attached to the cot-
tage, and, as the place needed attention on
account of the many weeds, the day was far
from lost. On Saturday he went out with
several gentlemen, and they liked his treat-
ment so well that they gave him a dollar
extra, which, with what Mr. Larkins had

given him and his regular wages, made his |

income for the week nine dollars and a half.

‘‘That’s not bad, is it, mother?’’ he said,
as he placed the money in his parent’s lap.

‘*It is very good, indeed, Ralph,’’ she re-
plied. ‘‘At this rate you will be getting
rich.?? ;

‘‘Hardly,’’ he laughed. ‘‘But we will be
able to save more than we expected.’’

On that day the boy procured both of the
papers in which they had advertised.
was the notice Ralph had written and so
unaccustomed
name in print that they read each notice
over several times.

The papers circulated through the district,

so many saw the advertisement. They asked |}

both Ralph and his mother numerous qués-
tions, to which the two answered briefly but
politely. They did not wish to say much
until the missing papers were brought to
light.

Haran Paget also saw the notices. At first
he was both surprised and perplexed. Then
a shrewd, cunning look came over his face.

‘“‘Tt’s that boy’s scheme,’’ he muttered
to himself. ‘‘Oh, but he is sharp, no doubt
of that. Of course he’ll soon obtain the
papers, and then——’’ he gave a long sigh.
‘(My plan to make a fortune will fall to
pieces !’?

All day Sunday, when he ought to have
been at church, the squire remained in his
library scheming and plotting. That night
he left on the evening boat for Chambers-
burgh,

‘«T]1 find somebody to help me get rid of
them,’’ he said. ‘‘It’s the only way.”’

On Monday Ralph took out a party of
young ladies and gentlemen. He got in at
seven o’clock, and found two rather rough-
looking men awaiting his arrival.

‘(We understand that boat isn’t hired for
to-morrow,’’ said one of them. ‘‘I suppose
we can get her, can’t we?”?

‘Yes, sir, if you pay the price.”’

‘“You are Ralph Nelson?’’

‘Yes, sir.??

‘¢) heard you was trustworthy. You can
be on hand _ here at eight o’clock to-morrow
morning, to take me and my friend out,”’
went on the man. .

‘Yes, sir. Do you want any bait for fish-
ing, sir?’’ ‘

“No, We'll go for a sail, and possibly for
a little hunting up on the island.’’

“Allright, sir. I’ll be ready for you.’’

The men walked off toward a neighboring
saloon. Ralph did not much fancy their
looks. He made up his mind that he would
not have a very agreeable day with them.

But he was on hand promptly in_ the
morning, and after telling Franchard of
the engagement, took aboard the two men,
who appeared each with a shotgun and a
game-bag.

‘‘Sail to the upper end of the lake, toward
the big islands,’’ said the spokesman, and
Ralph steered in the direction, never dream-
ing of what that eventful trip was to bring
forth.

CHAPTER XXIV.
RALPH’S ROUGH EXPERIENCE.

Ralph to his two new passengers, as the
sloop skimmed along up Keniscot Lake.
‘¢Yes,’’? returned the older of the two
men, whose name was Martin. ‘‘It couldn’t
be better.’’ f
‘You don’t want to try fishing?’’ sug-
gested the boy, for he knew that a good
catch could be had with but little trouble,
‘‘No,’? put in the younger man, called

1S a fine day for sport,’’ remarked
i
os

said |
| place???

There

were they to seeing their |

}

 

Toglet.
islands.’’

‘*Very well, sir, I'll have you up there
just as fast as the breeze will take us.”’

There was a slight pause after this, during
which both of the men examined their shot-
guns and other things which they carried.

‘*You live around here, I suppose?’’ re-
marked Martin, at length, looking at Ralph
sharply with his coal-black eyes.

‘“Yes, sir, I live at Westville.”’

‘*Lived there long???

‘CAll my life.’’

‘*Then you must know the folks there

‘‘We want to get up among the

| pretty well?’’

‘*‘T know nearly everybody, sir.’’

‘*Any rich folks live in the town?’?

‘*T don’t know what you would call rich,’’
laughed the young boatman. ‘‘There are no
millionaires, but there are several people
quite well-to-do.’’

‘*Who are they?”’

‘‘Th. re is Mr. Carrington, and the Widow
Pennover for two, and then Squire Paget is
pretty well fixed, I imagine.’’

‘*Squire Paget, eh? Is he the squire of the

+S Wes, Sine?

‘*Rules it pretty well, I suppose, if he’s
rich,’’ and Martin laughed in a style that
had little of reality in it.

‘*T don’t know what you mean by that,”’’
returned Ralph, in perplexity. ‘‘He is
squire, that is all. He owns quite a deal of
property and he lives on the rent money.’’

‘*Pretty nice.town,’’ put in Toglet. ‘‘I
wouldn’t mind owning a place there myself.
Do you own a place,’’ he went on, with
assumed indifference, while he listened
eagerly for the reply.

“Yes, we own asmall place close to the
Eastport bridge.’’

‘Oh, yes. That’s a valuable spot.’’

‘‘We own more of the land, from the
bridge up, but we can’t prove our right to
it,’’ added Ralph.

‘*That’s too bad.’’? Toglet and Martin ex-
changed glances. ‘‘What seems to be the
trouble?’’ went on the former.

‘‘The papers my father had are missing,
and we can do nothing without them.’’

‘*You do not know what has become of
the papers?”’

‘No, sir. Weare advertising for them,
but so far we have not received any inform-
ation concerning them.’’

‘*But can’t you get duplicates from the
former owners of the ground?’

**No, sir. The former owners are all dead,
and the property fell into my father’s hands
in a roundabout way. You see, when he got
it the land was worth but very little, and no
great care was taken of the papers in conse-
quence.’’

Toglet nodded, as though to indicate he
understood. Then, while Ralph was busy
starting the sloop on another tack, Toglet
leaned over and whispered to his companion:

‘“That’s the bottom of it, Sam.’’

**T shouldn’t wonder,’’ returned Martin,
in an equally low tone,

Ralph heard the whisper, but paid no at-
tention to it, thinking the men were dis-
cussing something not meant for his ears.
He turned over on the new tack, anid once
more the sloop went along on her course,
throwing up the fine spray over the bow.

‘*We’ll be able to get home faster than we
are now sailing,’’ remarked Ralph. ‘‘We’ll
have a good wind all the way.’’

‘*Unless it dies out,’’? returned Martin,
and there was just a trace of nervousness in
his tone.

“Tt won’t die out,’’ replied the young
boatman, confidently, as he cast his eyes
about the sky. ‘‘This breeze is good until
some time after dark.’’

‘‘When will we be
islands?’’ asked Toglet.

Ralph looked at his watch.

‘Tt isnow quarter to ten. We’ll reach
the lowest of them by eleven o’clock, and
the big ones quarter of an hour or so later.’’

On and on up the lake sped the sloop. The
villages on the shores had been left far be-
hind, and now nothing but trees and bushes
appeared upon either bank.

‘*Rather lonely,’’ observed Martin, as he
gazed eagerly about. ‘‘Not a house in
sight.’’ g

‘‘No, sir, there is no settlement within a
mile and a _ half of here,’’ returned Ralph.

‘‘Are there any settlements near the
islands?’’

‘‘No, sir,”’

‘*T understand there are a number of great
cliffs and ravines about the islands,’ ob-
served Martin. ‘‘I would like to see them.’’

‘‘T will show you all there are,’’ said
Ralph.

At the time he had named they reached
several small islands and passed them. Then
two of larger proportions appeared in sight.

One of the latter was quite flat, while the
other was rocky and mountainous.

‘*There is the best island for hunting,’’
said Ralph: ‘‘We call it Three Top Island,
because there are three tops to the moun-
tain on it. Shall we land now?”’

‘*Yes,’’ replied Toglet, after an exchange

able to reach the

of glances with Martin.

Ralph at once lowered the jib and took a
reef in the mainsail. Then the tiller was
thrown over, and in two minutes more
they ran into a tiny cove and came to
anchor close beside a grassy bank, fringed
with meadow brush.

| mountain,’’ he said.

 

4539

‘‘Of course you will go with us,’’ said
Martin, as he sprang out.

‘‘Tf you wish,’’ replied Ralph. ‘‘Other-
wise I can remain here until your return.’’

‘*No, come along, by all means,’’ put in
Toglet. ‘‘We want you to show us the points
of interest, you know—those: high cliffs and
the big ravines.’’

‘“‘All right, sir.
everything secure.”’

Ralph at once set to work, and inside of
five minutes he was ready to accompany
the two men. He had found them quite
agreeable on the trip and never for an in-
stant did he dream of the foul plot that
they were expecting to carry out.

talph offered to carry the game-bags, but
this offer was declined. So with nothing in
his hands but a thin stick he had picked up
on the bank, he led the way away from the
sloop and up among the rocks that formed
the base of the mountain of which the island
was composed.

‘It’s the best kind of a place for the
work,’’ whispered Martin, to Toglet, as
they trudged on behind Ralph. ‘‘Not a soul
will guess the truth after the deed is done.’’

*‘Don’t let the boy suspect, or he will be
on his guard,’’ was the low reply. ‘He
looks as if he could show fight if he wished. ’?

‘*We’ll take him unawares, and then—”’

‘‘There’s a good shot!’’ cried Ralph,
pointing toa number of wild water-fowls
which just then arose from a hollow close by.

He fully expected one or the other of the
men to take hasty aim and fire, but neither
did so.

‘*We’ll wait for something better,’’ said
Martin.

‘‘We’ll take a look around before we begin
to waste our powder,’’ put in Tolget.

In truth, neither of them had come to do
any shooting. They were afraid that a shot
might attract attention should other sports-
men be in the vicinity.

Ralph was rather disappointed. Had he
had a gun he could easily have brought
down one or more of the fowls. He consid-
ered it a most excellent chance lost—a
chance that might not occur again that day.

Still it was not his place to pass any re-
mark concerning the decision of his two
passengers, so he remained silent, and plod-
ded along over the rocks and through the
brush, until, half ¢n hour later he came out
on a grassy plateau overlooking a magnifi-
cent stretch of water. i

‘*‘Here we are at the top.of one end of the
‘“You can see a good
many miles from here.’’

‘“*That’s so,’’ said Martin. ‘‘What is below
at the base of this cliff?’’

‘Rocks and water,’’ returned Toglet, as
he peered over. ‘‘It must be a hundred feet
to the bottom.’’

‘It is more than that,’’ replied Ralph.

Martin and Toglet exchanged glances, and
both nodded. This was as good a place as
any for the accomplishment of their purpose.

‘*Hallo! what’s that?’’ suddenly cried
Martin, pointing across the lake.

Ralph looked in the direction, stepping
close to the edge of the cliff as he did so.

‘‘T don’t see anything unusual——’’ he be-
gan.

He got no further. The two men pushed
up against him roughly, and before he could
save himself he was hurled into space. A’
second later he disappeared from the sight
of the two men.

‘‘He’s gone!’’ cried Martin. ‘‘Easily done,
eh, Tom?’’

“It was, Sam.
he went down.’’

They peered over the edge of the. cliff.
Nothing was to be seen of Ralph.

‘*There’s his cap, down on the rocks by
the water,’’ said Toglet. ‘‘He has gone
clean out of sight. Come on away, the job
is finished.’’

And without another word these two vil-
lains in crime hurried from the spot down
to the other side of the island, where the
sloop had been left.

CHAPTER XXV.

SQUIRE PAGET IS NOTIFIED OF RALPH’S
DEATH,

Just wait till I make

Let us look to make sure

or ARTIN and Toglet were very white
M when they reached the sloop, and

9"¢ the younger man trembled from
“ToS> head to foot.

‘‘What’s the matter with you?’’ asked
Martin, with a forced laugh, as they got on
board.

‘‘No—nothing,’’ stammered Toglet.

‘*“You’ve got a bad case of the shakes.’’

‘*Well, to tell the truth, that’s the worst
job I ever tackled, although I’ve accom-
plished many that were tough enough.”’

‘‘Humph! you’ll get over that feeling
when you are as old as I am,’’ replied Mar-
tin, heartlessly. ‘‘What’s the boy to us?’’

‘*Oh, I an’t squealing. Only he looked so
innocent——’’

‘*Bah! don’t give me any more of that
stuff. Here, have something to brace you
up.’’ ' ;
Martin pulled a black flask from his pocket
and thrust it forward. Toglet drank co-
piously as if to drown out the memory of
what had occurred. Martin followed with
an equally liberal dose.

‘‘Tt was done easier than I at first imag-
ined it would be,” said the latter. ‘‘Had he

      
     
   
   
    
    
 
     
   
  
 
  
    
    
  
  
    
   
    
   
  
  
  
  
    
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
      
 
          
 
    
 
         
     
       
        
 
    
 
   
 
        
   
    
 
      
 
 
          
       
 
       
 
     
     
 
          
     
     
     
     
       
 
      
         
    
 
       
 
 
      
         
     
      
 
 
      
   
 
        
    
        
        
 
     
   
 
        
   
 
        
       
       
  
    

 

 
   
 

 

&540

suspected the least thing we would have had |

a nasty struggle with him.’’

The anchor was hoisted and the sails set,
and in a few minutes the sloop had left the
island and was on her way down the lake.

‘‘We won’t go near Glen Arbor,’’ said
Martin. ‘‘Let them find.out about the affair
in the natural way. If we report it, we may
get ourselves into trouble.’’

‘*But the squire——’’ began Toglet.

‘*That’s none of our affair. We’ll land
near Westville, and watch our chance to re-
port.’’

It was about four o’clock when the two
rascals beached the sloop in an out of the
way spot just north of the village in which
Ralph lived.
and as quickly as they could they left the
craft and then sent her adrift.

Both of the men had worn wigs, and these
they now cast aside, altering their appear-
ance slightly. Their guns and game-bags
were hidden behind a pile of decayed logs
and then they sneaked through the woods
toward the hill at the extremity of West-
ville.

They waited about Squire Paget’s house |

for nearly an hour and at last saw that gen-
tleman come out and start up the country

road which led away from the village center. |

Presently the squire came to an old dis-
used cottage, which, years previous had
been used as a road tavern. Here he halted,
and the two men at once joined him.

‘*Tt’s done, squire,’’ said Martin.

‘*Hush! not here!’’ cried Paget,
scared voice. ‘‘Come inside.’’

He took from his pocket a key and with
it unlocked the cottage door. The two men
passed inside, and the squire of Westville
immediately followed.

‘*Take a look about before you say any-
thing,’’ he said. ‘‘We must not be over-
heard.’’ .

Martin’s lip curled, but he did as re-
quested, and Toglet did the same. Not a
soul but themselves was anywhere in sight.

‘*Woe’re all right, squire,’’ said Martin.
‘*So we’ll get to business without delay.’’

‘*Exactly, exactly! And did you—is he—
is he gone?’’ asked Squire Paget, breathing
hard.

‘*Yes, he’s gone,’’? returned Martin,
boldly. ‘‘He went over the top of the big
cliff, and that is the end of him.’’

‘*You are sure it was the right boy?’’

‘*Yes, he said his name was Ralph Nel-
son,’’ put in Toglet.

‘*You saw him go—go down all right?’’
asked the squire, hesitatingly. ‘‘There was
no failure——’’

‘*Not a bit of it,’’ said Martin. ‘‘He went
over onto the rocks below and into the
water. He gave one scream, and that was
all,’’? he added, dramatically.

The squire shuddered. It must really be
true. Ralph Nelson was dead!

**Very good,’’ he said, ina hoarse voice,
‘*Here is the hundred dollars each I prom-
ised you. You shall have the other five hun-
dred when—the body is found.’’

‘*All right, but you’ll have to do. the
finding,’’ said Martin, ‘‘It’s at the bottom
of the big cliff on the west side of Three
Top Island. His cap is among the rocks
close by.’’

‘‘And his boat——”’

‘*We sent that adrift. If we are traced up
we want to shield ourselves by saying we
went off hunting and when we got back
could find nothing of him and the boat, and
had to get a stranger to take us ashore.”?

‘*Ah, Isee. Very good.’’

‘*Now we want to be going. We’ll look
for you in Chambersburgh inside of a week.
Don’t fail us if you value your secret.”’

**T will be on hand.”’

‘*You ought to pay us more than five
hundred,’’ put in Toglet. ‘‘You are going
to make a pile out of this.’’

‘*How do you know anything about what
Tam going to make?’’ asked the squire, in
great surprise.

“The boy told us about his property and
the papers that were missing.’’

‘*T know nothing of that.’

‘*Humph! We can put two and two to-
gether. You’ll make a fortune out of that
land, no doubt.’’

‘*T know nothing of that land you men-
tion.’’ ;

‘*Maybe you don’t.”’

‘‘And I haven’t his missing papers,’’
went on Squire Paget, and for once he
spoke the truth.

‘*‘Then what’s your aim in getting him
out of the way?’’

‘*That is my affair.’’

**Of course it is,’? broke in Martin. ‘But
you might make it a bit more than five
hundred.’’

‘Tam poor, gentlemen. I had to do what
has been done to keep me from ruin.’

Both of the rascals laughed at his words,
but they could get nothing more out of the
squire, anda few minutes later, after a lit-
tle more conversation concerning poor
Ralpb, they separated. The two villains
who had pushed the boy over the cliff went
back for their guns and game-bags, and
then set out for a town at the north of the
lake.

Squire Paget watched them out of sight,

in a

and then hurried back to his mansion. Some-

how, he did not feel safe until he had locked
himself in his library.
‘*At last the boy is out of the way,’’ he

No one had seen their coming, |

Car Co Ct)

| : ‘
' murmuyed, to himself, ashe sank into an

easy chair. ‘‘It was accomplished much
' easier than I imagined it would be, thanks
to my intimate knowledge of the character
of that rascal Martin, and Toglet, his tool.
Now what is to be done next? It will not
| do to get the widow out of the
| would excite suspicion. I had better wait
and watch her closely. Maybe sne’ll be un-
able to hold her cottage with her son no
longer at hand to earn enough to keep them,
|and she’ll be forced to sell out at a low fig-
jure, and then—by Jove!’’ he exclaimed,
suddenly. ‘‘That’s a grandidea! It’s a won-
der I didn’t think of it before!’’

The new idea made the squire walk up
and down the library rapidly. He was a

|great schemer and could evolve a whole
transaction, no matter how intricate, much

more rapidly than most men.
/ **T’ll do it!’’ he said, to himself. ‘‘I’ll
| offer her a good price for the cottage and
| the land, and when the papers are drawn
;}up for her signature, I’ll take good care
| that all the other land is included in the
| plot mentioned. I can make the papers so
| confusing that she won’t know the differ-
ence, and she’ll sign them without knowing
their real contents. Glorious!’’

Then came a knock on the door.

‘Dinner is ready, sir,’’? said the house-
| keeper.
| ‘*Very well; I will be there in a few min-
utes,’’ he returned.

Then he gazed out of the window thought-
fully. :
| ‘*But what if those papers should turn up?
;}I must watch out for them, and get the
|land in my name before that occurs—if it
| ever does occur. What a fool I was to trust
| them in the mails to have them certified to
| by that old woman in New York!”’

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

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

 

}
|
|

 

BOATS, BATS AND BICYCLES:

OR,

Nimble Jerry’s Pluck and Luck.

Ld leiden

The Haps and Mishaps of a Young Athlete,

BY ERNEST A. YOUNG,
Author of ‘Blue and White Sam,’ etc,

rupee > tps

 

(*BoaTts, BATS AND BICYCLES’ was commenced
in No. 278. Back numbers can be obtained of all
| News Agents.)

ee reagent

CHAPTER XXXIV.

BEGINNING OF THE END.
HE wildest excitement prevailed on
at > the ground of the Herkimer Athletic
ub,
> ~ Nimble Jerry had been stunned by
the blow from the ball, and for a short time
|it was thought that he was dead.

Just as they were on the point of sending
for a doctor, he showed signs of returning
consciousness, and Graham called the mes-
senger back.

Jerry sat up and looked at his friend.
There was‘no bruise upon his head, expect
a faint mark where the missile had struck.

‘‘What’s happened, anyhow? What are
you looking at me so for?’’

The words came from the lips of Nimble
Jerry ina low, bewildered tone. At the
same time he tried to rise to his feet, but
fell back again. As he did so, he noticed
the ball lying on the ground where it had
fallen, and he picked it up and said;
| ‘*Tt was that that hit me! I thought so.
| And I know who threw it—yes, I know who

threw it!?
| ‘*What do you mean, Jerry? You don’t
think it was meant to hit you?’’? Graham.
| returned.

‘*Don’t I think so? There’s no think
about it—I know it! But not a word, An-
| thony—not a word now! Mind what I say!’
| There were others standing near, but
| these words were spoken so low that only
Anthony Graham heard them.

He was bending over his friend, looking
anxiously into his face. The expression
which he saw there troubled him. He had
never seen Nimble Jerry look like that. be-
fore.

‘Tf that was an intentional hit, Jerry,
the man who did it must pay the penalty,
| This business has gone far enough, and f,
for one, am bound to see the right thing
done !”’

Again Jerry tried to rise to his feet. He
could not have done so without Anthony’s
help, but once erect he succeeded in main-
taining the posture by leaning against a
tree,

‘*This is the end up [’m bound to stay,’’
he suid, with a faint smile. ‘‘And it will
take more than one clip to put me down and
. make me stay there. That was an ugly one

| just the same, and if I hadn’t seen it in

 

 

| time to dodge a bit, it would have been the

death of me! And I know who threw it—I

know who threw it!’’

Anthony had never seen his friend appear
so strangely. For a moment he feared that

| Jerry had suffered a serious injury to his

head, affecting his brain. This might be so,

way—that:

NEW S.

 

 

yet it soon appeared that our hero could
think clearly enough in some directions.

‘*You must be carried over to our grounds |
with the team,’’ said Anthony. ‘‘For you
certainly are not able to walk.’’

‘*Think I can’t walk, do you?’” Jerry re- |
torted. ‘‘What’s the little clip on my head
got to do with my legs? IfI was going to
walk on my head, it might be different, but |
it’s the other end of me that’s got to wag,
and my thinker’1] be all right in an hour or |
two.’’

It was useless to argue with Jerry. He
would not even accept the assistance of his
friend’s arm, but walked with faltering
steps at his side down toward the lake.

Not until they were in Graham’s boat was
another word spoken. Then it was Anthony
who said:

‘*You say, Jerry, that you know who
flung that ball at you?’’

‘*] saw him do it!”’

‘*Who was it?”’

‘*T suppose you ought to know, Anthony,
but I don’t like to be in too much of a hurry
about telling you. Remember that I’m the
one that got hit, and I’m going to have my
say as to what’ll be done about it. Agree
to that, and you can do what you please.”’

‘‘Do you want to let the treacherous
scamp off???’ e

‘*I don’t care anything about the one who
threw the ball at me. He isn’t much more
responsible than the bull-dog that tried to
make a breakfast out of my ankles. It’s the
one that set him on that needs the killing!
And his little game is about over!”’

‘*You mean Mortimer Thornton?’’

‘tT don’t mean anybody else. It was Burke
that sent that ball at my head, and it was
more dangerous to me than if he had fired
a revolver at me, and, at the same time, it
could all have been called an accident. I
wouldn’t be the first one that got killed with
a base-ball, and how could we have proved
any intention against either Burke or the
one whose money hired him to do it?’’

‘‘T know it isn’t easy to prove things
when there’s too much cash against it. But
{ don’t propose to stand by and see you
murdered without trying to do something
about if.’’

‘‘T?’m not murdered yet, and something's
going to drop before it comes to that. You
and I have gone easy too long. Your guar
dian was here to see you last night?’’

‘*Yes,’’? said Anthony. ‘‘And for the first
time we had an open quarrel. I don’t know
what brought him here—or at least I only
suspect. But I have reasons to think that he
came expecting to see Mortimer Thornton’s
father.’’

‘‘The one who signs the checks to pay for
your expenses,’’ smiled Jerry.

‘*Or who did sign them, but 1 don’t think
they have come lately. And that, possibly,
is why he wished to see Mr. Thornton.’’

‘*Don’t it strike you that we ought to
think a good deal of Mr. Milton H. Thorn-
ton, when he’s paying our bills right along
out of his own pocket? Don’t you think he’s
immense on charity? Seems to me that it
must be the particular snap that he’s got
down fine—paying out his money to support
miserable orphans like you and me!’’

There was no smile upon Jerry’s face as
he spoke these words. Instead, there was a
hard look upon it, such as ought never to
appear upon any face when it is young.

Anthony had been rowing the boat idly,
while Jerry lay back in the stern, with his
hand upon the tiller, hardly taking note
whither they drifted.

‘*Has your guardian gone back?’’

‘*T think be’s gone to Portland. I believe
the elder Thornton went in that direction
after his visit to his son last night.’’

‘*Did you make any kind of a settlement
with him?’’

‘*No; I succeeded in getting him angry—
that was all. I told him plainly that I knew
he had been deceiving me all my life, and
that now I expected him to tell the truth.
He replied that be had nothing to tell me.’’

‘¢ And did you let that end it?’’

‘*T simply warned him that I should find
out the truth for myself. That be might
save a little of my respect for him by help-
ing me in season.’’

‘*And the more you wanted your rights
the madder he got, didn’t he??’’

‘*Tt seemed to work that way.’’

The friends remained on the lake for fully
two hours, and they talked every minute of
the time. When they landed at last, at a
point near the grounds of the Quaker Club,
the subject of their talk was by no means
exhausted.

But Jerry would not accompany his
friend. At Graham’s offer he took the boat,
and returned to his own landing, and thence
to his den under the ledge.

He found Willis on guard, and his papers
safe. Once more Jerry looked these papers
over, reading them more carefully than he
had ever done before, because he better un-
derstood their import.

He ended by putting them into his pocket.
He then requested Terril to take him to the
landing of the Herkimers.

He did not mention the episode of Burke’s
vicious attempt to his knight-errant, know-
ing that it would only cause the latter to
feel concerned for his safety.

He made his way unhesitatingly to the

 

 

 

 

tent of Mortimer Thornton. and he waited
for no ceremony before entering.

The Herkimer guard with a squint was
lounging in the vicinity, and he gave Jerry
a sharp look, although it wasa friendly one.

Thornton was standing in the middle of
his tent, his face white, and almost fright-
ened in its expression. So absorbed was he
in the overpowering emotions of the mo-
ment that he did not notice Jerry’s pres-
ence, as he paused within the door-way,.

Dale, the tramp, and Burke, the slug-
ger, were confronting Thornton, and both
were standing with clinched fists, as if
they were about to begin beating the life
out of him!

Both sprang upon Thornton at the same
instant!

CHAPTER XXXV.
AND THORNY.

E will not pretend that Jerry had

JERRY
any love for Mr. Mortimer Thorn-
ton,

fe,
S
But he did not feel like stand-

ing by, and letting somebody else give the
young gentleman the drubbing which he
would have liked to bestow himself.

Not one of the trio saw Jerry. But Burke,
the pitcher, felt a portion of Jerry hit him
forcibly behind the ear, and the force of the
blow sent him reeling back against the side
of the tent.

Dale, the tramp, did not wait for our
hero to bestow the same kind of compli-
ment upon him. Instead, he drew back
with a sheepish sort of grin, as if he were
half inclined to feel ashamed of his actions.

Thornton had recoiled from his assailants,

and his face was the picture of terror. And
yet no outcry had escaped his lips.
He stared at Jerry in speechless astonish-

ment.

Had Jerry’s sudden attack been. aimed at
him, it would not have surprised him any.
But to have him come to his defense was
something which it didn’t lie in his nature
to comprehend.

Burke recovered from the blow, and
glared about bim to see whence it had come.

When he espied Jerry, he slunk back, as if
all the fight had been suddenly taken out of
him, and even his lurid face lost some of
its color.

‘““Tf you fellows have got done fighting in
here, I’d like to have you go out, and let
Thornton and me have a little talk together,’
said Jerry. ‘‘If you’re really spoiling for a
fight, you may pitch into each other, and for
my part, I don’t care which rooster licks!’

The two ruffians seemed to be only too glad
to avail themselves of the chance to take
themselves out of the way.

‘‘Jist remember what I’ve been tellin’ of
ye! And mind your eye, or I’ll give it to
you in the neck the first chance I git!?’

With these parting words, Burke, the
pitcher, swaggered forth from the tent.

‘‘Now, Thornton, you’ve got to talk!
I’ve got those papers in my pocket which
you’re willing to pay so much money to get
possession of. How much money will you
give for them?’’

Thornton sank back upon his couch, while
Jerry drew a camp-chair up in front of
him, so that their knees touched.

‘*How do you know that I was willing to
pay money for those papers?’’ he weakly
asked.

: ** Because 1 heard you say so. We won’t
mince matters, now there isn’t any need of
it. I’ve been listening to the talk between
you, and Dale, and Burnham. You know
how I got back the papers, and you know
that I know a great deal that you didn’t
think I knew. Isn’t that straight, Thorny?”’

Thornton smiled faintly—he was too weak
to do anything else.

‘‘Yes, Jerry,’’ he said; ‘‘if you want to
sell me the papers, I’ll buy them, and pay
you a fair price for them. It’s what I should
have done in the first place, but I was fool-
ish about it.’’

‘*“You were more than foolish, Thorny—
you’ve been uglier than sin about it, and
you know it. Supposing I’d come here to-
night with an officer, and the officer hada
warrant to arrest you on the charge of mur-
der, or an attempt to murder, what kind of
a feeling would you have goup and down
your back?’?

‘*T don’t know what. you mean, Jerry!’’

‘You do know what I mean, Thorny! I’ve
come here to give you a chance to save
yourself, I’ll sell you these papers, and with
them, a chance for you to be decent and
respectable all the rest of your life, but
they’ll cost you every cent of the fortune
which you’ve been swelling around upon all
your days!”’

To these words Thornton made no re-
sponse. He seemed to have lost the power
of speech, but it was evident that he was
thinking intensely,

‘‘Come, you must talk, and lively, too!’’

‘*What do you want me toysay?”’

‘‘T want you to say that you’ll do the
square thing for the first time in your life.
It’]] be apt to surprise all your friends, but
the quicker you have it over with the bet-
ter.

‘‘Do you make the absurd claim that I
bave usurped your place in the world?’’

‘*You're giving it a higher scunding name
than I should, but if it’s another way @
saying that you’ve stolen the fortune that
belongs to me, and been a: living cheat al

 

 

 

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your days, then I mean just that, without
a blessed flourish.’’

The truth seemed to have lost its power

. to affect Mortimer Thornton.
. ‘‘Tt’s a false charge, Jerry!’’ he oex-
claimed. ‘‘I don’t really know who you are,
and if there’s been any wrong done to you,
I’m not at the bottom of it.”’

‘*You seem to be pretty close to the top of
it just now. But all this talk is just blowing
wind through our lips. Once more I ask you
straight—will you do the square thing or
not?’?’

. , ‘“There’s nothing that I can do. I speak
; the truth when I say it. If you’ll be patient
and wait, I will see my father as soon as I
a ean, and I think I can get him to do some-
_ thing for you. If you want a little money
_ to give you a start, or a chance to work
- your way up in some business, I’m sure my
4 father would——’”’
Thornton stopped right there—Jerry had
Py him by the collar, and he realized that his
. : a remarks were not acceptable.
_ ‘*Ts that all you’ve got to say, Thornton?
_ Is it the very last word? Remember, I’m
; not going to give you another chance!”’
Thornton drew his breath quick and sharp.

 

 

 

 

  

         
       
      
 
   
     
     
 
        
       
   
 
      
       
         
       
     
     
   
         
     
   
       
     
     
           
     
       
             
           
 

  

           
    
     

  

    
    
     
       
    
 
     
 
 
     
     
   
 
 
 
     
     
     
     
 
       
    
    
    
 
       
         
   
 
  

   

  

1 He had a hard battle to fight just then, and
3 ; he was a poor fighter.
3 ‘Let go of me,’’ he cried, petulantly. ‘‘I
can say nothing more now. Wait—wait, and
r everything will come right!’’
- ‘‘Noit won’t, Thornton—you’ll come ever-
<x lastingly wrong, and don’t you forget it!”’
e As Jerry spoke he flung Thornton from
3 him, and without another word ran from
Fi the tent. An hour later he was on the
d ground of the Quakers.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
2 + + _—__—_
t ee. G Ry
> | 3Qur Samp ALBUM.
8 wy
d EW stamps are constantly turning
$ up. Among the recent discoveries
if are the following; Baton Rouge,
rf 10c. green; Macon, 2c. black on
of green; and an envelope from Madison, Fla.,
of the same design as the dc. adhesive, color,
n black on buff.
at x & * *
”
Ae Collectors should remember when sending’
or. unused stamps to dealers, to place a piece of
» oiled paper between them, as dealers are
d greatly bothered this hot weather in separat-
; ing them.
ie * He * *
of We have told about the ‘‘Stamp Bourse’’
to in France. Boston has one now. It is open
every third Tuesday at 2 0’clock P. M., for
ne the exchange and sale of stamps.

My ae * * *
ck! Japan is said to be ‘‘scratching her head’’
ch for some new design to appear on the new
et set.
ou * * * *

The 3c., 5c., 30c., and 50c. due stamps are
ie ~ out ;

of ; : k k *

to - How many cglilectors are interested in
ly _ Confederate stamps? Those who are will be

surprised to know that the Lenoir, N.C.,
rt local, issued provisionally during the war of
of the rebellion, was printed from a die en-
en -graved on a block of holly wood, and ac-
yw cording to the statement of the authorities
Ww - at that place, only four hundred impressions
rt were tuken, after which the die was de-
977, stroyed.
ak : * * x *

_ Two-dollar Columbians are scarcer than
to ever. Holdon to them, unless you can sell
ay them for $2.25. A-certain dealer offers to
ild pay that for used ones.

ol- * * * * 7
Athens and Belgian prints have a very
ae marked difference. The Athens print is a
nd very coarse impression, the stamp looking as
to- though it had not been pressed by the die
La hard enough. Take one of the Japan stamps
un a where the color is not fast, and soak it well
of in warm water. Place it face down ona
we iece of brown paper’ and press it witha
Ate warm iron, and on taking the stamp off you
i sae will have a print on the paper that will
ve: give you a faint idea of how an Athens
ave print looks.
ith The best way to do this is to take paper
ind something liké the one you are reading, and
but let the stamp dry on the paper. It will then
at peel off icaly.

  
 

The Belgian print is an elegant, clear-cut
mpression, the lines standing out proml-
hently, and a set of these stamps is a fine
addition to a collection.

* * * *
The difference between laid and wove
aper, and how to distinguish them, will be

 
 

  

  

  

the ound in the following: .
ife. We all know that paper is made from a
but wr and we will begin here.

_, The pulp as it is taken from the vat looks

ike dirty, milky water. It is spread upon
re gauze, and it is the texture of this
auze which determines the texture of the

   

per.
te this gauze is woven like cloth, the paper
Made from it is ‘‘wove.’’? This paper has no
lines in it, but a kind of ‘‘grain’’ is readily
Noticed if held to the light. When we say

 

 

that ‘‘this paper has no lines in it,’’ we are
not referring to the watermark—if there
should be one—as numerous stamps on wove
paper have watermarks. The watermarks
on different paper are made by a ‘‘dandy
roll.’’. The pattern is engraved many times
upon this cylinder, and as rolled over the
pulp, leaves the impressions in it, at equal
distances apart.

Laid paper, whether marked or not, shows
parallel lines in it, close together, about
eighteen to the inch, and crossed by thicker
lines, about one inch apart, at right angles.
The gauze which this paper is made upon is
not woven, but the wires run parallel, being
kept together by the cross wires. In some
stamps the lines run just opposite.

Ribbed paper is very similar to the laid,
only the lines appear to be closer together.

* * * *

J. A. F., Easton, writes: ‘‘Please let me
know the value of Blood’s black, Penny
Post, with picture, unperforated, and Boyd’s
le. blue, City. Express?’’

The first is worth 25 cents, and the last 7
cents.

** *

R. C. Evans, Mobile, Ala., writes: ‘‘In
your first issue you state that dealers living
in Mobile have a splendid opportunity for
importing stamps from South and Central
America. Please explain how this is done,
and. if there would be any gain in doing
so?’

1. You would be very unwise in purchas-
ing any such stamps until you had first
made a deal with some New York dealer.
Have you a friend in either place? If not,
write to the postmasters. Addresses can be
found in the Philatelic Advertiser, an Eng-
lish stamp paper.

2. You can clear twenty-five cents ona
dollar if you manage right, and sometimes
more.

3. Send us the stamp to examine.

* * * *

Herbert W. H., Erie, Pa., writes: ‘‘ Please
let me know the value of a 10c. red postage
due. Are Straits Settlements stamps worth
anything? What kind of a stamp is one with
the words ‘Johore Postage?’ One with
‘Perak,’ and one with ‘Selangor?’ They
are all of the 2c. value. What are the
Columbian envelopes worth?. Are 10c. special
delivery stamps worth anything? Let me
know the value of a $1 red, and a 25c. blue
United States Revenue.”

Your 10c. postage’ due, unpaid, stamp
is probably the 10c. bright claret, and worth
3 cents.

The three stamps you ask about are the

*

Protected States of Straits Settlements, and

are worth 4 cents each.

Several stamps of this State are quite
rare. We give below the value of the
Columbian envelopes ‘and special delivery
stamps:

COLUMBIAN ENVELOPES.

: Used. Unused.
1c. blue, $.02 $.03
2c. violet, .01 04
5c. chocolate, .10 10
5c. slate, —_—— 15.00
10c. slate, -20 2

SPECIAL DELIVERY STAMPS.

10e. blue, $.12
10c. blue (at any office), 10
10c. orange, 08
10c. blue (latest), .05
Send us the stamps to examine.
* * * *

Charles Franklin, Chicago, writes: ‘‘ What
is the meaning of the word ‘surcharge?’
What is the’ difference between ‘embossed’
and ‘grilled?’

1. ‘‘Surcharge’’?. means to place upon a
stamp any inscription changing that stamp
for some particular duty, different place, or
to change its value. When a supply of, say 2c.
stamps, run short, certain countries take a
larger or smaller denomination stamp, and
surcharge the value of two cents on it, in
figures or words.

2. There is no difference between ‘‘em-
bossing’’ and ‘‘grilling.’’

4 + * *

William Bulck, Terryville, Conn., writes:
‘‘Kindly tell me the value of the following
used United States stamps: 6c. pink, Lin-
coln, 1870; 10c. brown, Jefferson, 1870; 7c.
vermilion, Stanton, 1871.’’ —

The 6c. pink is worth $4; the 10c. brown,
$8, and the 7c., $38.50.

There are so many counterfeit stamps of
the 1870-7) issue that dealers are very
‘‘scarey’? about purchasing them, and un-
less you have them guaranteed, you will
find that very few collectors or dealers are
ready to open their purse for them.

A large dealer in New peter ne recently
sent several of these stamps to a New York
house, and to several others in turn, and
when the reports of the various dealers were
examined he was dumfounded to find out
that hardly two agreed about any certain
stamp being genuine or bogus.

* * *

Several letters to be answered.

—_————_>_+>—___—_-

Tommy—‘‘Is the little Smith boy a great’
favorite iu school?’

Jimniie—‘' Well, I should say so. ‘There
isn’t a fellow in school that he can’t lick.’’

*

| sailors from the Adventure.

this puts my promotion back.”’

 

GooD NEWS.

4541

 

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

THE FIGHTING LADS OF DEVON;

OR,

The Mystery of Giles Montford and
Sydney Rookwood.

A TALE OF THE GREAT SPANISH ARMADA
BY ALFRED ARMITAGE,

Author of ‘‘ With Crusader and Saracen,” “In the Days
of the Gladiators,’ and ‘Loyal to Napoleon.”

LADS OF DEVON” was com-
Back numbers can be obtained

(“THE FIGHTING
menced in No, 278.
of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER XIX.
WHICH GILES AND HIS COMPANIONS ARE

TRANSFERRED TO THE ADVENTURE.

IN

   
   

WHE approach of this messenger from
? the strange vessel was watched in un-
easy silence, as though it portended

7~ some calamity or misfortune. Nearer
and nearer hove the little boat through the
dusky night, until it swung alongside the
Hercules, and the seamen rested on their
oars.

‘Is this the flag-ship of Sir Francis |
Drake’s fleet?’’ a sharp, commanding voice
called up.

** Ay, ay, sir,’’ one of the sailors answered.

Officers and men fell ®back a little, and
Drake himself came forward to the bul-
warks. His face was gloomy and sullen, and
his voice had a savage ring as be orderea
the ladder to be dropped.

An instant later a richly dressed officer,
with a handsome, bearded face, mounted. to
the deck of the Hercules. He saluted Drake
in a@ very courtly manner, and then pro-
duced a sealed packet.

‘‘Tam Captain Aubrey Vane, of yonder
ship Adventure,’’ he said, by way of intro-
duction. ‘‘My greetings to you, Sir Francis,
and I have the bonor to bring you this in
the name of Her Majesty of England.’’

‘*Would to Heaven you had brought ita
day later, sir,’’ the blunt old navigator
growled audibly, as he took the packet.
‘*Perdition seize you and the Adventure—
nay, I meant not that. You are but the in- |
strument of a government that never knows
its own mind for a day at a time.’’

With a surly nod anda gesture that was
far from civil, he beckoned to the queen’s
messenger to follow him. They crossed the
deck, and vanished below, observed by many
a gloomy and disappointed face.

he outbreak of growls and complaints
that followed showed plainly the temper of
the men and officers of the Hercules. They
gathered in little groups, discussing the
situation in a manner that proved how
clearly they understood it. Opinions were
freely expressed in spite of the waiting

 

‘*Orders to return’ to England, else 1 may
never fire another shot at a Spanish craft,’’
cried the master-gunner. ‘‘It’s enough to
spoil the temper of a saint.’’

‘*And just when we were about to start,’’
growled another. ‘‘f doubt not but we
should have sent half of old Santa Croce’s
ships to the bottom of the Tagus.’’

‘“*Tf I were in the place of .Sir Francis,’’
declared a young and hot-spirited officer, ‘‘I
would attack the Armada first, and open
her majesty’s dispatch last. Odds Fish!

‘*A little more of such treasonable talk, if
it comes to the right ears, may promote you
to a place in the Tower,’’ warned an elderly
officer; and this had the effect of moder-
ating the conversation.»

‘*It will be a great pity if the attack be
abandoned,’’ said Sydney. ‘‘Drake never
undertakes a thing unless i is sure of suc-
cess.”’

‘*Abandoned it certainly will be,’’ replied
Rifles, ‘‘T read as much in Sir Francis’

ace. What think you, Stephen?’’

‘‘The same as you, Master Giles,’’ Trent
answered. ‘‘It is patecty clear that ber
majesty, having taken it for granted that
the message which was sent to Drake by you
and me did never reach him, hath now sent
this Captain Vane to summon him back to
England.”’

‘*T wish he had arrived two hours later,’’
muttered Sydney, in a gloomy tone. ‘' By
that time——’’

He stopped abruptly, and with a start,
as a hand was laid on his shoulder. Wheel-
ing around he saw one of the commander’s
servitors.

‘‘T have word from Sir Francis,’’ said the
man. ‘‘He wishes to see Masters Montford
and Rockwood at once.’’

With feelings of mingled surprise and
alarm, the lads hurried below, leaving
Trent gazing after them in a state of stupe-
faction. They entered the cabin with flushed
faces, and found Sir Francis and Captain
Vane seated at opposite sides of a small
table. Between them were a bottle of spirits
and two glasses. The queen’s dispatch lay
on the table, rumpled and open.

For a moment or two Sir Francis paid no
attention to Giles and Sydney.

|the present,’’ Sir Francis went on.

 

**T shall obey this command, sir,’’? he
shouted at Captain Vane, ‘‘but I shall do no

more than that. Iam instructed not to enter
the mouth of the Tagus. Very well; my
fleet shall lie right here at anchor. But, by
the lord high admiral, sir, I will sink every
Spanish craft that tries to pass in or out
of the river. I will challenge that ruffianly
old Spaniard, Santa Croce, to come out of
harbor and fight; and if he dares come, sir,
I will blow his boasted Armada to pieces.”’

‘*You will answer to her majesty for your
future operations,’’ replied Captain Vane,
on whose countenance lurked both amuse-
ment and admiration; ‘‘it is no concern of
mine. With the safe delivery of this dis-
patch my responsibility ended. But as to

ithe other matter——’’

‘*‘Ay, I forgot,’’ interrupted Sir Francis,
turning to his waiting visitors. ‘‘Here are
my trusty young volunteers now. [ sent for
you, Masters Montford and Rookwood, be-
cause I would do youa good turn for the
faithful and brave service you have given
me. You both wish for a chance to share in
more fighting and to further distinguish
yourselves?’’

The lads eagerty answered in the affirma-
tive, wondering what was to come next.

‘*Well, young gentlemen, it is doubtful if
you have such an opportunity with me for
‘*Her
majesty fears that I may do some harm to
the poor Spaniards, and I am forbidden to
enter the Tagus. However, this is not to the
point. Captain Vane was dispatched here

| with the letter because his ship, The Adven-

ture, is a fleet sailer. It is ordered back at
once to resume its old trade of dispatch
bearing between England and Holland, and
Captain Vane has the queen’s permission to
take with him from my fleet such men as
are likely to be of service to him in his
perilous calling. I have chosen you, subject
to the captain’s approval.”’

Giles and Sydney were at a loss to know
what to say to this. They flushed with
pleasure, realizing that it was a mark of
high honor to be thus singled out, and that
the opportunity was cne that many an old
soldier would have coveted.

‘*T have heard good reports of you, young
gentlemen,’’ said Captain Vane, ‘‘and [I
shall be glad to have you under my com-
mand on board the Adventure.’’

‘*Ay, and another thing,’’ exclaimed Sir
Francis. ‘‘It is understood that I am part-
ing with you only for a time, my lads.
When I return to England with the fleet you
will rejoin the Hercules at the first oppor-
tunity.’

This was the very thing that Giles and
Sydney most desired, since they regarded
the perilous cruising between England and
Holland as a field of experience that would
ripen them for the great and inevitable
struggle with Spain.

They gratefully thanked Sir Francis and |
Captain Vane, and Giles asked ‘permission —
for Trent to accompany him. As the rela-

tions between the two were those of master

and servant the request was readily granted,
though Sir Francis looked as though he |
would have liked to deny it..

The lads were now excused, with instruc- _

tions to be ready to leave in a few mo-
ments. Being armed and equipped, they had
no preparations to make and no baggage to
pack. They hurried on deck to acquaint
Trent with his altered destiny, and the
roy fellow was no less delighted than the
ads. .

The news spread throughout the vessel,
and officers and men exchanged farewells
with their three fortunate comrades, to
whom they had become sincerely attached
during the past few weeks. ;

In the midst of the leave-taking, Captain
Vane appeared to claim ‘his volunteers.
They accompanied him in his boat to the
Adventure, and anchor was at once lifted.
When dawn broke the long journey to Eng-
land had been fairly begun, and the fleet
was but faintly visible to the southward.

The Adventure was:a low, sharp vessel,
and well adapted for speed. It carried six
guns on each side of the deck, and under its
lofty poop there was plenty of cabin room.
The voyage was somewhat retarded b
storms and adverse winds, but no Spanis
ships were met with. The kindness of Cap-
tain Vane, and of the officers and men,
greatly relieved the monotony of the long
passage for Trent and the lads.

It was tarly in July when the Adventure
entered the English channel, and on the
eighth of that month it sailed up the Thames
and fastened to a buoy off the Tower wharf.
Giles wrote a short letter to Sir Richard
Edgcumbe and one to Hereward Tomewell,
while Sydney also took advantage of the op-
portunity to write to his father.

The letters were given to Captain Vane,
who had to report to Lord Howard, and he
promised to have them forwarded to their
destinations. He was absent all afternoon,
and when he returned an hour after dark he
briefly announced that he had orders to start
for Holland at midnight.

His manner showed that he had heard
news of an unusual and thrilling nature,
and the excitement and curiosity of the
crew were aroused to a still further degree
when they were instructed to load the vessel
with a large store of arms and provisions
that was piled on the wharf. !

Officers and men. toiled alike, and the
cargo was soon transferred to the ship’s
hold. Shortly before midnight a horseman

 
  
  
     
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
 
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
  
   
 
  
     
 
  
   
   
    
       
    
       
         
     
     

 

 
 

4548

GooDp

NEWS.

 

 

muffled in a light cloak brought a bundle of
dispatches to Captain Vane, and a few min-
utes later the Adventure slipped its mooring-
line, and started down the Thames

CHAPTER XX.

IN WHICH DICK MAAS SHOWS HIS SKILL
A PILOT.
off

Y morning the Adventure was
B Sheerness, and beating across the
} Channel with a favoring wind and
we tide. Captain Vane kept a constant
lookout, and rarely opened his lips, except
to give an occasional order. He was not
ordinarily a taciturn man, and his silence
indicated that he was worried and per-
plexed.

As the day wore on the men and officers
quietly discussed the situation among them-
selves, and it was generally believed that
the present undertaking was one of unusual
peril and difficulty. Noone on board—ex-
eept the captain—had any knowledge of
events in Holland during the past month or
two, else the object of this hasty voyage
might have been less of a mystery.

The low, flat coast was sighted late in the
afternoon, and an hour after dark the Ad-
venture entered the mouth of the Western
Scheldt, and dropped anchor as noiselessly
as possible off the town of Flushing. All the
lights on the vessel had previously been ex-
tinguished.

Captain Vane now called officers and men
forward, and briefly explained what was be-
fore them.

‘*Our destination,’’ he said, ‘‘is the town
of Sluys, which lies up the river Zwin, and
is within several hours sail, For several
weeks it has been besieged by a large force
of Spaniards under the Duke of Parma, and
though it is still holding out, the situation
is critical. My orders are to deliver these
arms and supplies to the garrison, and I
have also important dispatches for Sir
Roger Williams, the English commander,
and for the Dutch Governor of the town.

‘tT will not conceal from you that it isa
perilous and difficult enterprise. The Span-
iards have blocked the river for some dis-
tance below the town with a line of boats, and
these are protected by batteries on either
shore. But I rely on your oft-proved courage
and discretion, my brave fellows, to take
the Adventure safely through whatever
dangers may ariso.”’

At this a loud murmur of assent broke
out, and the eager tones of officers and men
showed that the enterprise was none the less
welcome because of its difficulty.

‘tT have instructions to wait here for a
pilot,’’ Captain Vane added, ‘‘and as soon
as he arrives we will start. The darkness of
the night will favor us, and if we can creep
up the river without noise we have every
chance of eluding the vigilance of the Span-
iards and running the blockade in safety. If
we are discovered we must fight our way,
and so it will be wise to prepare for the
worst.”’

No time was lost in doing this. After
being cautioned against unnecessary noise
and loud talking, men and officers scattered
to their posts, Captain Vane held a short
consultation With the sailing-master'and the
master-gunner, and then made a tour of the
deck to see that the cannons were in good
order and that plenty of powder and ball
were at hand.

He also divided the seamen into two
parties to repel boarders, and assigned offi-
cers to each command. Giles and Sydney
were in one party, and Trent was in the
other. Some time was spent in buckling on
pieces of armor, and in putting pikes and
arquebuses in order for a possible attack,
since Captain Vane had declared that the
Spaniards were well provided with boats.

Then ensued a long and tedious wait. The
night was very still, and an occasional sound
came floating over the water from the town.
The street lights could be seen, and here and
there a tall spire stood out blackly against
the steel-blue sky.

Though Flushing was in the possession of
English troops, Captain Vane did not wish
it to be known that the Adventure was in
the harbor. He probably feared that Spanish
spies would suspect the intention of the ves-
sel, and would find a way to get word up
the river to the Duke of Parma. ,

It was nearly midnight when the dip of
muffled oars was heard from the direction of
the town, and presently a skiff containing a
single occupant hove alongside the stern of
the Adventure. He made fast with a rope
that was long enough to permit the boat to
trail behind, and then climbed nimbly to
a deck, where Captain Vane was awaiting

im.

It was too dark to see what the man
looked like. He made a stiff salute, and,
taking a letter from under his hat, he
handed it to Captain Vane.

‘*From the English Governor of Flush-
ing,’’ he said, curtly.

‘*Your name, sir?’’ demanded the captain.

‘‘Dirk Maas,’’ was the immediate reply.

Captain Vane nodded.

‘‘That is correct,’’ he said.
way.”’

The captain also invited the officers to
follow, and included Giles and Sydney. The
whole party went below, where a light was
burning dismally in the hold.

AS

‘*Come this

|

|

 

 

While Captain Vane opened and read the |

letter the others scrutinized Dirk Maas with! from gun or sentry broke the stillness of the

considerable interest. He was a tall, broad-| 1
shouldered man, with a face that was un-| v
usually keen and. crafty for a Dutchman. In
fact, he looked like an Englishman, and the
officers had noted with surprise that he
spoke the English tongue perfectly. a
Captain Vane folded the letter and tucked | t
it into his belt. }
‘“The Governor gives a good report of |}
you,’’ he said, turning to the man.
have been of great service both as a pilot
and as a dispatch bearer?’’ kt
Dirk Maas nodded. He was plainly a man | |}
of few words.
‘*You expected me?’’ asked the captain. I
**T was told to meet a ship in the harbor

reply.
**When were you there last??’
‘“*Two days ago. I went up and back the

same night.’’ IN WHICH THE ADVENTURE FALLS INTO A

‘¢And what is the situation?”’

‘*The garrison still holds the town, but it
is hard pressed.’’

‘‘Then we are sorely needed,’’? muttered
Captain Vane. ‘*And now concerning this
bridge of boats, which you have doubtless
seen closely. Can it be easily broken?’’

‘*It is weak in the middle,’’ replied Dirk
Maas, suddenly showing an interest in the
conversation, and your ship will cut right
through it. There is little risk on so dark a| t
night. I know every foot of the channel, | «
and will bring you safe to Sluys before day- | |
light.’’

‘‘We will start, at once,’’ said Captain

Vane, giving his companions a nod of as-| partly ceased, the men scrambled hurriedly
to their feet, dimly conscious that a great

surance that seemed to say: ‘‘It is all right;
the man is to be trusted.’’
to the deck, and the anchors were lifted as
noiselessly as possible. Dirk Maas hurried | i
forward to his post, and a moment later the
Adventure was rippling swiftly across the | i
quiet surface of the Scheldt.

Mile after mile slipped behind, and at last | crash, and while the stupor of despair rested
the narrow river Zwin was | on officers and seamen, the storm burst with
terrific fury. From right and left the low
banks blazed with vivid red flashes, and

the passage up
fairly begun. There was enough breeze to
fill what canvas was spread, and the ship
left a foamy wake in its stern as it cut} c¢
through the middle of the channel. It was
very dark, and the low outline of the banks} 1
could be seen but faintly.

There was utter silence on deck, and the

dusky groups of still figures seemed like the} down stream from the barrier of boats, and
therefore there was no danger that they

ghostly crew of some supernatural craft.
Now and then the spell was broken when | \

Dirk Maas gave a low-spoken word of com-| other.
mand, which passed from mouth to mouth | remarkably true, considering that the target

Captain Vane and his officers were assem- | combined with the sudden and simultaneous
attack, showed unmistakably that prepara-
tions had been made beforehand, and that
the English ship had been expected.

bled forward, gazing with almost breathless
suspense into the murky gloom that lay
ahead as far as the eye could reach. Gun-
ners and seamen were at their posts of duty,
ready for action at any moment the dreaded
storm might burst.

With soft footsteps Trent crept up to Giles
and Sydney, who were standing near the
group of officers. He was there for a minute
or two before the lads discovered his pres-
ence.

‘‘Ho, Stephen, is that you?’’ whispered

Giles. ‘‘This sort of thing makes me feel
shivery. It is rather different from Cadiz | in its fall.

harbor by daylight.”’

‘But I think we are going to get through | «
all right,’’ added Sydney. ‘‘Our pilot evi-
dently knows his trade well. Ay, and the
channel,’’

‘*T doubt not he does,’’ replied Trent. | ¢
‘‘He may know it too well. I would have} ¢
an easier mind were we safe past the
blockade.”’

‘*What do you
tone of surprise.

‘*T mistrust this Dirk Maas,’’ Trent whis-
pered, bending closer to the lads. ‘‘I peeked
into the hold when you were down there
with the captain, and so had a good look at
the fellow in the light. May I be hanged
and quartered if I don’t believe he would
sell his soul for a handful of gold.’’

‘‘He is ill-favored, I admit,’’ replied
Giles, ‘‘but what of it? Looks hang no
man,’?’

‘*Ay, but I have run across him before,
when I was fighting in Holland under Sir
Richard Edgeumbe,’’ whispered Trent. ‘‘T
can’t say when or where, but I’ll stake my
life on two things: he is the same man, and
his name was not Dirk Maas then.’

The lads began to feel uneasy.

‘“You ought to tell Captain Vane this,’’
said Sydney.

Trent shook his head.

‘*No, it won’t do,’’ he answered. ‘‘I could
prove nothing. But J’ll keep a sharp eye on
Master Dutchman until——’”’

He paused abruptly as a low ripple of ex-
citement fell from the lips of the officers.

The lads discovered instantly what it
meant, and they forgot all about Trent’s
warning as they looked ahead, and saw a
dark line stretching across the channel at a!

mean??? asked Giles, ina

 

distance of several hundred yards, This was | ered around Captain Vane to receive his last
certainly the barrier of boats, and far be- |; orders.
yond it were a few glimmering lights—the | tered with blood, and a fragment of a spar
| had broken his left arm.

lights of Sluys, beyond a doubt.

Already the Adventure was in the midst
of the enemy. Right and left from the low
banks rose earthworks and batteries, and to
the rear many a flickering glow told of
camp-fires sheltered by ditch and moat.

But the terrible soldiers of the Duke of
Parma seemed oblivious to the foe that was

as yet no sign of discovery.
through the barrier, and Captain Vane and

‘*You | at the black, threatening mass.

to stern, keeled partly over, and then backed

shattered boats.
to-night, and take it up to Sluys,’’ was the | failed,

      

on
ward among the prostrate officers, while
Sydney and Trent rolled together against
the bulwarks,

from point to point.

He led the way | calamity had occurred.
seemed to spread suddenly over the deck as

stopped—that the chain of boats remained

over the flat sand dunes and canals of Hol-

and hissed through the air.

on board the Adventure, which was com-
pletely at the mercy of the foe.
shot pierced and splintered the bulwarks,
screamed overhead among the sails and
spars, or hissed across the deck, leaving a
trail of dead and dying behind.

broken off from the stump, and the ponder-
ous mass crushed balf a dozen poor wretches

the rush of wind on his cheeks, while the

ened by his narrow escape he jumped up
and ran blindly into Giles.

they crouched flat on the deek, expecting
that every instant would be their last. They
saw officers and seamen running to and fro
in terror, and heard Captain Vane’s voice
ringing sharply above the awful din and
turmoil.

purposely, as after events showed—and had
they aimed lower the Adventure must have
been speedily sunk. For a space that seemed
like hours, though it was really but. several
minutes, the fury of the bombardment con-
tinued without cessation, carrying away
sails, spars, and rigging. But nota shot
struck below the water-line, and the ship
floated as stanchly as ever.

straggling fire, and then ceased altogether.
The mystery of this was quickly explained.
The Adventure had drifted slowly down be-
tween the batteries with the ebb tide, where,
in the deep gloom, a continuation of the
fusillade would have done more damage to
friends than to foes.

this respite.
the eager tramp of feet as the Spanish
soldiery crowded into their boats. The sharp
commands of their officers could be plainly
heard. Nothing was left to the hapless Eng-
lishmen but to submit to capture or to die
hard.

1ight as the Adventure glided straight on
vith its ghostly crew.

Nearer and nearer came the blockade, and
Oncé safely

1is daring men could laugh at gums and
atteries. Now the critical moment was at
1and, and every heart throbbed with sus-
yeuse as the ship glided straight and swiftly

There was a tremendous crash, followed
oy the rending and splintering of frail
ylanks. The Adventure quivered from bow

1elplessly away from the wreckage of the
The daring attempt had

CHAPTER XXI.

SPANISH TRAP.

happened, for the shock of the col-
\\ lision pitched fully two-thirds of the
>» crew off their feet. Giles fell for-

ie) T first no one realized just what had
oA

 

Low cries and imprecations mingled with
the loud slapping of the waves, the clatter
xf pikes and other weapons, and the rum-
ling growl of escaped cannon balls rolling

Then, as the agitated heavings of the ship

A hush of horror
t was seen that the vessel’s progress was

ntact and unbroken.
Within less than half a minute after the

‘annon after cannon sent a thunderous echo
and. The storm of iron missiles shrieked
The Spanish batteries lay a little ways
vould pour their diagonal fire into each

From the very first their aim was

to its destination. was almost invisible in the gloom. This fact,

For a time something like panic reigned

Shot after

Three-quarters of the mainmast were

Sydney was so closé that he felt

soncussion threw him off his legs. Fright-

Both lads went down together, and they
lid not dare to rise. While the iron shower
lealt death and destruction around them

The Spaniards were firing high—no doubt

Suddenly the cannonade dwindled to a

But there was no hope to be gleaned from
Already the night rang with

As the ship floated on the survivors gath-
The gallant commander was spat-

He could scarcely
speak for rage and grief as he saw what
havoc had been wrought among his brave
followers.

It was truly heartrending to see the man-
gled bodies lying here and there on the deck

stealing between their lines. Not a sound | wounded. The dead and disabled numbered

more than a score,

If one thing could have roused the sur-
vivors more than another to a last desperate
defense it was the thirst for vengeance.
This was uppermost in their hearts now, and
it left no room for fear or shrinking, To
strike while strength lasted, and then to
perish like Englishmen—that was their re-
solve, They swore to it on their swords, on
their heads, by the memory of their slain
comrades. And, listening to these grim and
terrible oaths, Giles’and Sydney felt almost
reconciled to their fate. Their hearts, too,
burned for bloodsbed and vengeance.
‘“‘Stand by to repe] boarders,’’? Captain
Vane cried, hoarsely. ‘‘They will soon he
upon us. Let us fight to the last, men, and
keep the mastery of the old ship as long as
you can. England will hear of our deeds
this night, and will honor our memory. We
are dying in a good cause. It is no disgrace
that we have failed in so desperate an enter-
prise.’’

He was answered by hoarse and hearty
cheering, and by a ringing clatter of weap-
ons. Then, as the seamen were about to
scatter to their posts of duty, Stephen Trent
stalked quickly forward.

‘*Ay, but why have we failed, Captain
Vane?’’ he shouted. ‘‘I will tell you why.
It was because we trusted to that fiend of a
Dutchman, He was a Spanish spy, hired to
drag us into this trap. The blockade was
ready to hurl our ship back, and yonder
batteries had their guns trained on us from
the time we came within range. Do you
still doubt it? Then find Dirk Maas—if you
can.”’

Captain Vane started like a man who is
suddenly shot, and the truth of Trent’s
words flashed upon him with terrible force.
He tried to speak, but his first utterance
was drowned in a roar of fury. Like
ravenous wolves, seamen and officers dis-
persed to all parts of the vessel, seeking in

perfidy they were convinced.

No thought was given to the approaching
boats. Some dashed to the hold, and some to
the sleeping quarters; others broke into the
cabins under the poop-deck, and _ battered
furniture with swords and pikes.

To Giles and Sydney alone did it occur
that the pilot might have been struck down
by the cannonade, and they began to hunt
among the dead and dying. They had met
with no success when Trent came up to
them.

‘*No use, lads,’? he cried. ‘‘The foul
knave dropped into the water the moment
the ship struck, depend upon it. For the
chance of one thrust at him I would let the
Spaniards put me to death by every fiendish
torture of the Inquisition. Ay, and gladly.’’

‘*T hoped a ball might bave found him,”’
replied Giles, ‘‘but I fear you are right. He
had his \skiff moored to the stern of the ship,
and by that he doubtless escaped amid the
first excitement.’’

‘*But it will do no harm to look for the
craft,’’ muttered Trent, making a stride
toward the stern of the vessel.

He stopped short at a low gasp of excite-
ment from Sydney, who was pointing a
trembling arm across the deck.

‘‘Look!’? the lad whispered. ‘‘Who is
that?’’

Trent and Giles looked, and their hearts
beat with a fierce joy. In the tall, massive
figure that had just risen from the shadows
that lurked about the fallen mast there
was no mistaking Dirk Maas. He must have
been lying there crippled quite a time, for
as he took a single step it was seen that he
limped badly.

Hither he was ignorant. that any ot the
crew were near, or else he believed that the
darkness screened him from observation.
With a furtive look to right and left, that
showed his terror, he scrambled over the
mast and made a stealthy rush for the side
of the ship.

It was all done very quickly, but the
traitor had hardly started when Trent and
the two lads were in hot pursuit, yelling
with passion at*every step. In his mad haste
Sydney tripped over the mast, and when he
sprawled on hands and knees on the other
side, he, in turn, upset Trent.

Before his companions could rise Giles
dashed past them, overtaking and leaping
upon the traitor just as he reached the bul-
wark. With asnarl, Dirk Maas turned on
his assailant, struck him e¢ brutal blow in
the face and then wrenched loose.

Though stunned an _half-blinded, Giles
made another desperat effor+ to grasp the
ruffian, forgetting in his excitement that he
had asword at his belt. But he came in
hard contact with the bulwark, and fell
back, and as he staggered to his feet he
heard a dull splash.

By this time half of the crew had come
clattering across the deck, divining readily
what the commotion meant, and a row 0
savage faces peered over the top of the bul-
wark, while a score of hands held weapons
in readiness. Trent pulled Giles alongside
of him, and they watched together the sur-
face of the black water.

An instant later the head and shoulders of
Dirk Maas shot to the top twenty feet out
from the ship’s side. He gave a shrill cry,
and began to swim with might and main.

 

amid the splinters and fallen spars, and to
hear the groans and cries of the dying and

he appeal was barely answered from 4
group of swiftly approaching boats, when &

the gloom for the traitorous wretch of whose *

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hideous yell rose from the waiting avengers.
Strong arms hurled pikes and swords at the |
living target, and half a dozen pistols |
flashed and roared.

There was slight danger of all missing at |
such close range. With a shriek of acute
agony, Dirk Maas threw up his arms and
sank from sight, pierced by both bullets and
pikes. “From the deck of the Adventure rose
howl after howl of mad triumph.

The tragedy that ended the life of the foul
traitor was barely over when the scene
changed, From both sides of the ship boats
laden with Spanish soldiers were rapidly
approaching, and as Captain Vane’s com-
manding voice summoned his men to their
posts they obeyed as quickly and sharply as
though it was but a call to drill.

Those who remained of the two parties
previously singled out at once prepared to
give the boarders a hot reception. The ship’s
cook and carpenter dashed below, where
they had a fire in readiness. The bombard- |
iers ranged themselves at the guns, and}
Captain Vane appointed Trent to the place |
of the master-gunner, who was lying dead |
under the mast.

Before the boats could get near enough to
the sides of the ship for safety, a raking fire

was poured into them. Many were sunk or
disabled, and cries of agony mingled with
the loud explosions and the hoarse volleys of
English cheers. :

But boat after boat loomed on out of the |
darkness, and pressed through the deadly
cannonade to the very side of the ship, until
a score of them were washing and grinding
against the timbers.

In the terrific struggle that followed, the
guns were useless for firing purposes, but
they were made to do service in another
way. Asthehorde of yelling and cursing
Spanish soldiers tried to swarm up the ship's
sides, the gunners tore the pieces of cannon
from the embrasures and hurled them down |
into the boats. Death followed every cast as
the bottoms dropped out of the crafts thus
attacked, and left the occupants to struggle
in the water. ta

But fresh boats were constantly bringing
reinforcements from both shores, and as the
desperate Spaniards hoisted one another to
the low- bulwarks of the Adventure, the
plucky Englishmen saw that the end could
not be long delayed. : }

Every man fought with stubborn fury,
shooting and hacking at the invaders, and
beating them back into the water with
pikes. But still they came on from both
sides. gaining a foothold on the deck here |
and there in spite of the most fearful resist-
ance, in spite of scalding water ladled upon
them by the cook, and the streams of boiling
pitch that were liberally scattered by the
carpeuter’s hands.

At last a concentrated assault near the
vessel’s stern poured at least a score of
Spaniards over the bulwark and down upon
the deck. The foremost was instantly slain,
but the rest advanced with reckless valor,
making room for more behind, and driving
the Englishmen before them.

Trent and half a dozen comrades hurried
to the relief of the party, which included
Giles and Sydney, and a fresh attack was |
made upon the foe. A terrific hand-to-hand
combat ensued, both sides fighting like mad-
‘men. Sydney was’‘felled to the deck by a pike,
and as Giles thrust his sword at the Spaniard
who had struck the blow, a ball from a
pistol or an arquebuse hit him on the head.
Everything seemed to grow dark, and he
fell heavily across the body of his friend.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
> +>.

AMON G

Goon News ‘G.uss.

(SPECIAL NOTICE.—'his column is for GOOD
NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted
excepting such as are genuine Goop 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
- Goop NEWs Club Badge and Electrotypes see ad.
vertisement on last page. }

sneha etd
CLUB NOTICES. ;

We are with you again, and to stay.. The summer
is past—winter will soon be here. What would be
nicer than to belong to a good, live, energetic Goop
News club? We are the people! The B. I. T. R.
and ©. Club will be run on an entirely different basis
from other clubs. It will be virtually a secret organi-
zation for young people. Below we give, as far as
possible, the aims and objects of the club, and the in-
_ ducements we offer to joiners: To each and every one

joining we give one new book, by some popular
- &uthor; three months’ subscription to the .Amateur

Standard, our original secret language, to be used

When writing to each other, and key to same; cards,
_lists, etc.; also recognition signs, grips, pass-words,

Signals of distress, etc., and the secret work of the

lodge; also one fine badge to each. Our initiation fee

is 50 cents, and our dues 25 cents a quarter, payable
_ One quarter in advance. This is no cheap club, but
€n honest and reliable one. All letters answered, and

 

 

 

 

ard to the club. Our aim is to rise to the top—to be
‘monarch of all we survey,” in the words of Selkirk.
Write us before joining any other club. Address all
communications to the secretary, Clarence Wallace,
Nowata, Indian Territory.
Club friends, jéin our merry and triendly crowd
And enjoy yourselves with the rest. After the first of
November the chance of your life will be gone, and

| join.

| Other clubs, 2q. stamp.

 

Wt 7 have to pay the sum of 10 cents for initiation
You don’t always get something for nothing, so

you had better join while you are admitted free. This
club was organized for correspondence, friendship,
and pleasure. It will suit you all, my friends, as we
shall have departments too numerous to mention.
When joining, please send in a title for the club, as
we wish the members to choose a title for the club.
Ladies and foreigners are especially invited to join.
For full particulars address one of the managers.
Eastern manager, Ralph W. Murphy, 3 Richard
Court, Rochester, N. Y.; Western manager, Frank B.
Sommers, 713 North Campbell avenue, Chicago, IL.
Aha! It is they! long years I’ have

For many

searched the club columns of Goop Nrws, looking for |

the club I wanted to join, and at last I have found

one—the Golden West Goop NrEws Club of San Fran- |

cisco, Cal. You will join if you only know what a
good thing is in store for you.
fit to its members every month.
You get the Midget fora whole year.
itiation fee is 10 cents, and the dues are 4 cents.
offer the following premiums to all joining: A genuine

Of course you will
The in-

souvenir of the California Midwinter Fair, ten foreign |
stamps, beautiful lithographed club badge, the Midget |

for one year, and you hear from us every month; you
also receive card
etc. Address J. Wolff, secretary, 40244 Grove street,
San Francisco, Cal.

The Goop News Young Folks Pleasure club is
here, and means to remain. We want to enter right
into the club boys’ and girls’ good natures, and want
each one to shell out the fee and dues, and join. Hon-
esty guaranteed. Wenow have a branch in South
Carolina, and all we need is good members. Won't
you help a good thing?
to the secretary or president for information. Initia-
tion fee, 10 cents: dues, 10 cents quarterly. We solicit
your membership. Frank Atkinson, president, Gen-
eral Delivery, New York city;
tary, Bluffton, South Carolina

Now is the time to join the Goop News Marine Cor-
responding Club of Duluth, Minn. We are growing
fast.
opes with your card printed on, and to the tenth one
joining we will send a camera and outfit.
and’get one of these prizes. All joining will receive a
neat membership card, printed in six different colors

| of bronze, a membership list, and many other articles.

Initiation fee, 10 dents; dues, 5 cents per month, pay-
able quarterly in advance. Address all
James M, Campbell, president and secretary, Duluth,
Minn,

Free! Free! Free!
are invited to join Goop News Young People’s Union.

| This club sends each member a four-page list of up-to-

date young ladies and gentlemen who wish to corre-
spond, exchange goods, etc., every month, free; also
package of up-to-date reading matter when you join,
and one every month. Camera, typewriter, novels,
ete., free to members every month. Admission, 10
cents (Silver); dues, 8 cents per month; first month’s
dues required in advance; ladies free. W. E. Talia-
ferro, So, Atlanta, Ga.

The Good NEws Globe Corresponding Club of Chi-
cago, Ill., is going to publish a club paper called The
Club World, which all members of this club will re-
ceive free.
The subscription price will be 15 cents per year, It
will be eight pages, and is to be published the first of
each month. Those who wish sample copies of the
first number may send their name and address to the
secretary of this club. The secretary’s address is
Al. Miller, 604 Clybourne avenue, Chicago, Ill.

Now is your.chance to join the Goop NEws Philatelic
Club of Staten Island, N. Y. Initiation fee, 10 cents;
dues, 5 cents a month.

and ten United States stamps every month,
lowing officers have been elected: George Taylor,

president; B. Clark, vice-president; S. Hansen, secre- ,

tary. For further particulars address the secretary,
S. Hansen, Box 276, Port Richmond, Staten Island,
Wie:

Goop News Philatelic Club desires more corre-
sponding members. To get them it will give an
agricultural and officially sealed stamp to all joining
and sending 10 cents for an initiation fee, and a 2c.
stamp to pay postage on premium, Exchange branch
for which no dues are charged, and auction depart-
ment where stamps can be sold each week, are its
features. John Henderson, president. C. Heins,
secretary, 517 East 70th street, New York city.

Boys and girls! Join the Goop Nrws Star Ex-
change Club of Burlington, Iowa, while the fee is only
6 cents; no dues; ladies and foreigners free; officers of
A bundle of reading matter,
or package of stamps asa premium, Officers of the
club are: Ralph M. Brown, president; Fred J. Lesh,
vice-president; Arthur Breitenstein, secretary. Ad-
dress the secretary, 1389 Angular street, Buflington,
Lowa.

Join Decatur’s Goop News Corresponding Club, and
make friendships all over the,world. Members in
Australia, New Zealand, England, Bahama Islands,
Canada, etc. Initiation fee, 10 cents; no dues.
Ladies and foreigners free. Join now, and get your
name inserted in our new list. ‘You hear from us by
return mail. Address Percy 8S. Ewing, secretary, 750
W. Main street, Decatur, Il.

Well, boys, the Goop News Reading Club of Ran-
kin, Pa., is still on top. Why notjoin to-day and get
vour name on the list? We want members from all
parts of the world. Two novels, list, membership
card, ete., given to all joining this week. 4
fee, 8 cents; no dues; ladies and foreigners admitted
free. J, M. Crom, secretary, Rankin, Pa.

Short notices go, so acertain club magazine says. |

We will see how many members this one will bring.
Send E. F. Molen, secretary of the Goop News Fi-
delity Corresponding Club of Sioux City, Iowa, 6 cents
in stamps as admission fee for one year; no dues.

“ach member receives a list of members and a pack-
age of valuable reading matter,

‘Join the Goop News Reading and Exchange Club.
All joining the reading department in the next ten
days will be admitted for 6 cents, and receive every
month, for one year, a large bundle of reading matter;
also use our exchange department, free. Address
Stanislaus Carrick, Orangeville, Md.

Why not join Goob News Musical Club? It’s agood
one—roll it along. Send a stamp to the secretary for
full particulars, or send your 10 cents direct, and your
membership card, list of members, etc., will be sent
you atonce. C. J. McKinley, secretary, Anita, Iowa.

—_—__——-1-—
HOW HE USED THE POROUS PLASTER.

‘‘Well, Mr. Malone, did the porous plaster
which I sent you help your back?’’ inquired
the doctor.

‘Well, doctor,’’ replied the patient, ‘‘Oi
can’t say that it has helped me much yet;
but maybe it will. You know it was only
last night Oi took it.’’ p

‘“‘Took it! What do you mean?’

‘‘Mane! Why, sure, Oi mane that Oi

chewed and chewed for half an hour on the |

ould thing, and then Oi had to bolt it down
hull. Seems to me if they’d bile ’em a little
more and not put so much pepper in, they’d
be easier to chew up, and wouldn’t scorch a
body’s insoide so.’’

This club gives a bene- |

We |

of membership, list of members, |

Of course you will, so write |

J, Aug. Mittell, secre- |

To the first one joining we will send fifty envel--|

Join now |

letters to |

All up-to-date young people |

The first number will be ready Sept. 15. |

Upon joining you will receive |
800 foreign stamps, and you will get 100 foreign stamps |
The fol- |

Initiation |

rb
)
vi

iy XCHANGE EPARTMENT.

(ImporrANT.—'I'bis coluuun is freeto all our readers.

about through notices in this column, All offers must
be strictly exchange offers. We will uot insert any
| “for sale” advertisements, nor exchanyes of fire-arims,
explosives, dangerous or worthless articles. If exchange
notices do not appear iv a reasonable time, it may be
| understood that they were not accepted. Address al]
communications for this column to “Exchange De-
partment.”)}

+

TYPEWRITER.—Percy Ewing, 750 West
street, Decatur, Ill., has a good typewriter to ex-

; change for stamps or coins.

MISCELLANEOUS.—C. H. Compton, 575 E. Wash-
ington street, Indianapolis, Ind., has a 234x314
camera, printing outfit, two telephones (small), dark
| lantern, book sketches, jokes, fifty: photo picture
| cards, twenty-five foreign stamps, base-ball mask,
| thirty-five magical tricks, and one apparatus trick

card, to exchange for self-inking printing press and
j; type, not smaller than 3x4,
| answered.
NOVELS.—Walter B. White, Box 128, Fitzwilliam
| Depot, N. H., has ten 10-cent novels and ten 5
novels to exchange for Vol. 1 of Goop News.
| ENGLISH BOYS’ PAPERS.—D. F. Henrikson,
| 289 Central avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y., would }
hear from any one having running numbers of Eng-
| lish boys’ papers, will give good exchange for same,

£

| When writing please mention what you prefer in ex-
change.

MISCELLANEOUS.
ville, Pa., has a gold-filled watch, worth $8, to
change for violin and outfit, or mandolin; also books,
reading matter, newsboy photos, and other articles, to
|; exchange for camera (Kombi preferred), or best
offer.

STAMPS. A. Herbst, 106 E. 111th street, New
York, has a 30c. claret United States postage due

(1888 issue), and a 90c. orange (1890), or best ‘offer in
United States stamps.

10-cent novels. Willgivea sheet of foreign stamps
for every two copies of Nick Carter Library.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Otto Altschul, 1702 Briar
Place, Chicago, Ill., has Vols. 9 and 10 of Goop News,
150 best steel fish-hooks, the ‘Flying Air Propeller,”
fifty white envelopes (the right size to hold stamp ap-
proval sheets), one 10-cent detective’ library, to ex-
change fora Kombi camera, or small sized Kodac.
| Kombi much preferred. Must be in best condition.
Letters with stamp inclosed promptly answered.
| READING MATTER.—Eugene McClanahan, 791
W. Elm street, Springfield, Mo., has New York
Weekly from No. 49, Vol. 49, up to date, over fifty-
two numbers; also from No. 3to No. 26 of Vol. 1 of
Goop News, and from No. 55to 79, Vol. 3 of same
paper, a large number of other boys’ papers, and the
| following cloth-bound books: ‘‘Rough and Ready,”
| by Horatio Alger; ‘“Foot-prints in the Forest,” “by
Ellis; and ‘Bud Boyd’s Triumph,” to exchange for
best offer in other reading matter, separately or whole.
Vol 6 of Goop News wanted. Aji letters answered.
MISCELLANEOUS, — Frank Schlick, Elmira
Bridge Works, Elmira, N. Y., has 100 art supple-
ments, 135 foreign and United States stamps, all differ-

man book of tricks with cards, some minerals, and

Indian arrow points, also a lot of miscellaneous read- |

)
| ing matter, and a foot-ball suit to exchange for a
! guitar or elarionet, or best offer. Would like to hear
from all boys who are collectors of birds’ eges or
minerals,

STAMPS.—Fred Fischer, 144 7th

avenue, New

for best offer; also a box of Brownie rubber stamps.
COLUMBIAN STAMPS.—Edward Fitzgerald:

Indian Orchard, Mass., has one 15¢., six 10¢c., one 8c.»

three 5c., three 4c., two 8ct; also other United States

stamps to exchange for volumes of Goop Nrws,

| STAMPS,--Milton Hasell, 4208. Grant street, Spring-

|

|
|
|
.
|

field, Mo., has 270 very rare stamps, all different, in-
cluding United States Revenue, exchange, and
terior departments; also very rare foreign stamps to
exchange for a volume of Goop News, or Vol. 10 of
| Goop NEws to exchange for a volume of Goop News.

Vol. 9 preferred. Sender must send post-paid.

BROWNIE STAMPS.—William McDonnell, 1646
Madison avenue, New York eity, has one set of ten
Brownie rubber stamps to exchange for a 50c., or two
30c., or four 15c. Columbian stamps, used or unused, in

| perfect condition only. Other offers considered.
| Only stamps wanted.

PRINTING PRESS.—C. J. Hebbard, 498 6th street,
Detroit, Mich,, wants to exchange for camerafand out-

| fit, or best offer, a first-class printing press, in good
| order, with type and cuts (foot-power); chase. is
644x104. Honesty guaranteed. Write quick. All
letters answered.

READING MATTER. —O. F. Weber, Eureke
Springs, Ark., has Goop NEews, from 23, September,
1893, up to this date; two years of another bbys’ pa-
per, three novels, one book, ‘‘How He Won a Wife,’
and the “History of the Red Man” to exchange for
best offer; watch and magic lantern preferred. All
letters answered.

MISCELLANEOUS. — Ernest V. I, Linn, New
Brighton, Pa., will give good exchange for a pair of
boxing-gloves or Indian clubs; also has six Nick Car-
ters and four Log Cabins; Nos, 267,268, 269, 270, and 271
of Goop NEws to exchange for best offer in wigs and
beards. Letters all answered. ’

COINS AND STAMPS.—Orville Walden, Unceas-
ville, Conn., has Confederate money, old coins, and
Columbian and foreign stamps to exchange for de-
partment and United States stamps above 10c,

BOYS’ PAPERS.—M. R. Dennehy, 9 Merriam
street, Somerville, Mass., will give Vol.2 of Good
NeEws, and a volume of other boys’ papers for Vols.
8, 4, and 5 of Goop News; must be in good condition.

STAMPS, ETC.—L. J. Ambs, care of J. B. Sickles
Saddlery Co., St. Louis, Mo., has 100 foreign stamps,
all different; one Scott’s Imperial Stamp Album, and
twenty 5-cent libraries to exchange for Goop Nrws
(Vol.4 preferred), or for 5-cent libraries. Honesty
guaranteed. ‘

PICTURE CARDS.—Edward Stern, 2250 Jefferson
avenue, Fordham, New York city, will give five
brand-new picture cards for every 10c. green 1861, 2c.
brown 1869, 3c. vermilion 1887, or any other 8c. or 5c.
United States stamps of any other issue; only ones in
good condition wanted. . ;

COINS. — William Savage, 461 DeKalb avenue,
Brooklyn, N. Y., has fifty different foreign copper
coins to exchange for United States or foreign stamps,
or best offer.

MISCELLANEOUS.—E. H. Kaye, 27 Tinton street;
| Pittsburgh, Pa., has Goop NeEws and other boys

papers, 5 and 10-centf novels, 25 and 50-cent books:
| programmes, song books, trick books, picture cards,
tricks, magic lantern, and slides; 1.800 fine mixed
stamps, from United States, Mexico, and Canada, all

 

We will not be responsible for transactions brought |

Main |

change for best offer, and comic electrotypes to ex- |

All letters promptly |
5-cent |

like to|

Uriah Christopher, Browns |
ex* |

stamp, catalogued at $2, to exchange fora 90c. purple
$ g purple |

GOOD NEWS.—Charles Henry, 2617 Franklin ave-
nue, St. Louis, Mo., has Goop News from 125 to 173; |
also from 192 to 206 to exchange for best offer in 5 and |

ent; three puzzles, volumes of boys’ papers, Hoff- |

York city, has a large ar_ount of stamps to exchange |

in- |

| worth $25, to exchange for a self-inking printing press
} and outfit, chase must be 4x5, or larger; or will ex-
change separately for cases, type, quads, leads, rules,
or anything in printers’ line.
BICYCLE.—J. Wolff, 40234 Grove street,
| Francisco, Cal., has a pneumatic-tired safety bicycle
| to exchange for a foot-power printing press and outfit,
or best offer.
GOOD NEWS.—Henry N. Eva, Lock Box 21,
i Onawa, Iowa, has Vol, 10 of Goop Nrws, in fine con-
dition, to exchange for Vol. 2 of same paper; papers
}
|
}

San

must be in good condition.
SCHOOL BOOKS.—Arthur Breitenstein, 1339 An-
gular street, Burlington, Iowa, hasa large number of
| school books, such as algebras, books on Latin, Eng-
lish grammars, histories, ete., to exchange for best
offer. Send for list. Also will give five amateur pa-
pers for every Nick Carter Library; will give a vest-
pocket dictionary for every six Nick Carters.

CARDS AND PROGRAMMES.—C. A. Griffin, 194
Dean street, Providence, R. I., has 100 picture cards,
and 200 theatrical programmes. All letters an.
| Swered.

GOOD NEWS.—Philip Vogel, 910 Berryhill street,

Nashville, Tenn., has Goop News, from’ 261 to 270,
| and from 274 to 280 to exchange for best offer; fifteen
| Good NEws. é
MISCELLANEOUS.—Jacob Weiss, 718 East 6th
| Street, New York city, has 214x214 Anthony Eclipse
| Camera, Some dime novels, 10, 20, and 25-cent novels

bound books, four volumes of Story papers, a lot of

picture cards, and two albums toexchange for offers.
|; Complete list on application.

Our M 1

ll Bag

te ee

(Questions on subjects of

| dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or al

; questions not answered. Goop NrEws goes to ress’
two weeks in advance of date of publication, aud there-
fore answers caunot appear until two or three weeks

| after we receive them. Comuiunications intended for
this column should be addressed Goop News “Mail
Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.

acing gh ome

eneral interest oe are
©

D’ Artagnan, Wichita, Kan.—l. The stories which
were begun in Goop News, from 215 to 245, were:
“The Boy from the West,’ ‘Among the Gypsies,”
‘Scouts of the Swamp Fox,” “Tom T'ruxton’s Ocean
Trip,’ ‘‘Larry, the Wanderer,’ “A Young Free
| Lance,” ‘*The White King of Africa,” ‘Reckless

Carl,” “The Schooldays of Fred Harley,” “Friends or
Foes,” ‘In the Heart of the Earth,” “Upright and
Honest,” “With Crusader and Saracen,” “Sword and
Pen,” “The Young Auctioneer,’ ‘The Tour of the
Zero Club,” and ‘Three of a Kind.” 2. You probably
have already seen “In Barracks and Wigwam.” We
shall have a story by Emerson Bell shortly. 3. The
| 1802 dollar is worth one dollar and thirty cents. ;
| The King of the Island, Toledo, Ohio.—1, Some of
the serial stories in Vol.5 are: “Messenger No. 48,”
“The Gold Thieves,” ‘Yankee Dick’s Risk,” “Steal-
ing a Steamer,” ‘‘The Sealed Box,” ‘‘The Bey Cru-
soes,” “Adrift in the City,’ “Commodore Frank,”
and ‘The Counterfeiters’ League.” No, ‘“The
tajah’s Fortress” was not published in Goop News.
3. William Waldorf Astor is probably the richest man
in the world. He is said to be worth $150,000,000. He
is an American, but lives in England. 4. “Boats,
Bats, and Bicycles” is not a true story. 5. We intend
to have a story of the Revolution later. _6. A boy of
| 154% should be about 5 feet in height. 7. Germany has
| probably, the best drilled soldiers.
| -M, A. G.,Camden, Me.—The following is considered
an excellent remedy for sprains: Put the white of an
| egg into a saucer, keep stirring it with a piece of alum
about the size of a walnut juntil .it becomes a thick
| jelly. Apply a portion of it on a piece of lint, or tow,
| large enough to cover the sprain, changing it for a
| fresh one as often as it feels warm or dry. The limb
| Should be placed in a horizontal position by placing it
on @ chair.

Cc. V., Hingham, Mass.—Snow is a.vapor which falls
to the earth in a frozen state; sometimes it is partl
melted in its passage, when it becomes sleet. Hail is
| drops of rain in a congealed state. It seldom falls but
| in the summer season, when the clouds containing the

rain are high in the air. Frost is a great degree of

cold which congeals or freezes water into a solid body,
| and is occasioned by the weakness of the sun’s rays,
| Mark Dale, Peoria, 111l.—You will get over your
| Stage-struck feeling. Probably, nine out of ten of the
| youths of your age, when they go to a theater for the
| first time, discover that it is the one destiny for which
| they were intended; and each one believes it to be
| only a question of time for him to become the most
| prominent actor on the boards.

J. M, C., Columbus, Ohio.—The ancients made their
bricks by mixing straw with the clay, and then baking
them in the sunshine. They were never put into the
fire. The straw may yet be seen in the bricks to be
found amid the ruins of Babylon. It still preserves
its natural color, unburnt.

R. M. A., Cheyenne, Wyo.—The “bowie knife” is
Supposed to derive its name from Colonel James
Bowie, who was a member of Congress, and a gentle-
; man whose dexterous use of the weapon in question
| gained for him an unenviable notoriety.

Inquirer, Montpelier, Vt.—Seven colors are seen in
the rainbow, namely: Red, blue, yellow, orange,
green, indigo, and violet. But all these may be
formed from the three primitive colors—red, blue, and
yellow.

F. M. W., San Francisco, Cal.—1. No, we do not in- *
tend to publish any stories by the author named. 2.
There will be no examination for the railway mail
service in San Francisco this year.

Tom B., Duluth, Minn.—It is not known who in-
vented locks, They are as old as the oldest history.
Eastern tradition gives the credit to Tubal Cain, the
inventor of the plow. :

A. M., Chicago, Ul.—1. We may revive that depart-
ment lateron. 2. We think your club is doing re-
markably well, and hope that your paper will be a
success,

W. S., Cincinnati, Ohio.—We should like very much
to oblige you, but to publish a list of stamp collectors
would, for obvious reasons, be impossible.

H. &., Philadelphia, Pa.—You do not say what coins.
Write again more fully, and we shall be pleased to
answer you.

Stamp Collector, Leavenworth, Kan.—Yes; send
your stamps, and we will value them for you and re-
turn them.

G. J. K., Evanston, Ill.—In a field one mile square,
about a million people could stand comfortably.

O. C. F., Basin Springs, Texas.—There is no pre-
mium on either of the coins mentioned.

9

 

{Several communications left over to be answered neat

week. |
—— + eo —-—

Visitor—‘‘Tommy, I wish to ask you a
few questions in grammar,’’

Tommy—‘‘ Yes, sir.’?

“Tf I give you the sentence, ‘The pupil
loves his teacher,’. what is that?’’

‘*Sarcasm.”?

 

 
  

  
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
 
   
   
 
 
   
  
   
    
       
 
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
   
 
   
    
 
 
 
    
  
     
  
  
  
   
  
   
  
  
 
   
   
   
  
   
 
 
  
   
    
  
   
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
 
  
 
   
   
 
  
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
   

    

CGroOD

 

oA. :
UD)
. —Y

 

BY SPE TH RR.

CHAPTER VIII.
7RASTUS AT LONG BRANCH.

2
é ECKON I’se got squar wid de ole
tf * man at last,’’ said ’Rastus to him-

S.\ self, as he saw Latinass depart, with
oe a handkerchief tied over his bald
head to keep from catching cold in his nod-
dle. ;
But that joke cost the coon his situation.

**We can’t allow such work around a show
like this,’’ said the boss, after the evening
performance was over. ‘‘Here is your pay
for half a week’s work.’’

And our ’Rastus was out of the show busi-
ness.

‘*Dat settles me an’ New York,’’ he said,
as he traveled for his boarding-house. ‘‘Ter-
morrow I lights out fo’ Long Branch.’’

And light out he did.

The season was just about opening up, and
he did not have any trouble in getting a
situation as waiter in one of the leading
hotels, close to the water.

As the season advanced the hotel began to
fill up, and by the first of July there wasn’t
a vacant room to be had.

Among the people stopping at the place
was an Englishman named Fitzwilly and his
family.

Fitzwilly was an overbearing heavy-
weight, and he had hardly been there three
days before ’Rastus was down on him.

About twice a day the Englishman rang
for something in the way of drink to be
brought to his room, and on every occasion
when ’Rastus served him he found fault,
aad nearly drove the coon crazy, counter-
manding orders and mixing things gener-
ally.

On the third week, ’Rastus could stand
it no more, and so reported.

‘*Well, do as you please to him,’’ said the
manager. ‘‘I don’t care whether he stays
or not. I have got plenty of other applica-
tions for his apartments.’

So ’Rastus watched his chance to get
square.

It was not long in coming.

‘*T_ah—wanter bathe, dontcher know,’’
said Fitzwilly, one morning. ‘‘Tell the—ah
—managah | want ah pwivate house—ah!”’

And then he and the family meandered off
to the bathing-houses.

’Rastus went aloug, bound to get even or
die in the trial.

He found Fitzwilly two houses, one, for
himself and his son, and another for his
wife, and then went off for their suits,

He had been. instructed to get the best, but
he did nothing of the kind.

Mrs. Fitzwilly’s suit was all right, and so
was the one for the boy.

But the one for Fitzwilly was a hummer.

It was three sizes too small, all the but-
tons were gone, and in some spots it was
fearfully weak.

As soon as he had delivered the suits, ’Ras-
tus got out of sight.

The Englishman stripped, and then at-
tempted to get into what had been provided.

It was a tight squeeze, and brought out
the perspiration.

‘*What a bloody suit!’’ he howled.

  

”)

Then he discovered that the buttons were

gone, and he was madder than ever.

‘*Curse take that bloody niggah!’’ he went
on. ‘'Hi, you!’’ he called.

Of course ’Rastus didn’t answer, though
he heard all that was going on.

Fitzwilly would have sent out his son for
another suit, but the boy was already gone.

Then he tried to get the suit off.

But it stuck closer than a brother.

’Rastus had put several pieces of pitch in-
side where they would do the most zood.

**Confound the bloody thing !’’ cried Fitz-
willy.

But as he couldn’t get the suit off, he was
compelled to keep it on and pin it up.

Then he sallied forth, bent on laying some-
body out.

No sooner did he make his appearance than
everybody set up a loud laugh.

He looked too funny for anything.

‘Where did he escape from?’?

‘*Git onto the comic valentine!’’

And several more equally complimentary
remarks,

To escape the crowd, Fitzwilly made a dash
for the water.

The first person he met was his wife.

Mrs. Fitzwilly gave one look, and then let
out a wild cry.

‘*Why, Giles, what’s happened you?’’

‘*Tt’s the bloody suit,’’ he groaned. ‘‘That
niggah——’’

But he didn’t say any more.

A big wave took him off his feet, and

when he arose, he felt a sudden draught in |

the rear.

Full of suspicion, he clapped his hands Le-
hind him.

It was only too true.

The seam of the suit had suddenly parted.

“*T?ll ’ave to get back to the bloody bath-
?ouse,’’ he cried. ‘‘I’m making a show of
myself,’’

And then he started for shore.

But another wave tumbled him over, and
the suit he wore was all but ripped to
pieces.

‘*Tt’s a goner, now,’’ he muttered, mak.
ing a dive for the deep wacer.

He did not know what to do, and finally
motioned to ’Rastus to come up.

‘*You bloody niggah!’’ he cried. ‘‘Get me
another suit at once.’’

Our coon hopped off, but instead of doing
as he had been told, he opened the bath-
house and got out Fitzwilly’s own clothes.

‘*Couldn’t get. no suit, boss,’’ he said, as
he approached the water. ‘‘So I jes’ brung
yo’ own clothes, sah.’’ ?

And he fired the duds at Fitzwilly’s
head.

The coat and vest struck the Englishman
on the shoulder, but the pants flew over his
head and drifted away.

‘*Me beautiful checks!’’ howled Fitzwilly.
‘*You bloody villain, what did you do that
for???’

‘Sorry, sah, ’deed I is, sah.’

And all the while ’Rastus was nearly split-
ting for the chance to let off.

 

 

With a mighty effort, Fitzwilly managed
to put on the coat, leaving the vest to share
the fate of the pants.

Then he started for his bath-house,

But he was short-sighted, and got con-
fused.

‘*This way, sah,’’ said our coon.

And he led the way to the apartments for
ladies.

Fitzwilly started down the lane between
the houses, and finally coming to what he
thought was the right place, put the key in
the lock, and opened the door.

The next instant there was a terrific female
shriek that froze poor Fitzwilly’s bones to
the marrow.

**Oh, oh, oh, help! Here’s a man tryin’ to
get in my room. Help! Police!’

The man in charge ran up to find out the
cause of the cry.

‘*Hello! what are you doing here?’’ he de-
manded. ‘f Another Jack the Peeper, eh? I’ll
fix you.’’

And grabbing Fitzwilly in the rear, he ran
him down the walk and bounced him head
first into the sand.

That last tumble settled the bathing-suit.

The last stitches gave out, and it showed
signs of dropping away.

‘*Save me, somebody !’’ howled Fitzwilly.
‘*Sonfebody give ine some clothes.”’

‘*Dar’s a barrel,’’ suggested ’Rastus, who
had followed up the joke. ‘‘Might knock de
head out ob dat, sah.”’

And he pushed the barrel toward the ex-
cited Englishman;

Out went the head and bottom, and, a mo-
ment later, Fitzwilly was seen dusting for
his bath-house, holding the barrel around his
waist, while the crowd cried themselves
hoarse.

Here he found himself without clothes,
and sent ’Rastus to the hotel for another
suit.

Our coon took his time, stopping to play a
game of pool on the way, and returned with
one of the boy’s suits.

Then wasn’t Fitzwilly mad?

‘*You bloody, blasted idiot!’’ he howled.
‘* ’Kre I’ve been a-sittin’ about three hours
waitin’ for me clothes, and you bring me
this.’’

‘‘An’t dat all right?’’: asked ’Rastus, as
innocently as a lamb.

‘“No, if an’t, you bloody——”’

‘*Hol’ on!’ cried our coon, ‘‘1’se a gen’-
man, sah, an’ doan yo’ forgit dat, sah. I
doan ’low no man, black or white, to shoot
off his mouf at me in dat style. As yo’ doan
like de way I does t ings, suppose yuse waits
on yo’self fo’ a change, sah.’’

And with this shot, ’Rastus ambled off,
leaving poor Fitzwilly to get something to

 

 

 

put on the best way he could.

 

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

NEWS.

 

WHO is IT?
A laughable illustration of how anger

causes a man to make himself ridiculous is
given in the following incident, related in

a German newspaper: -
Banker Rosenthal directed his book-keeper
| to address a sharp letter to Baron Y——,

| who had promised several times to pay what
| he owed, and had as often neglected to do so.

When the letter was written it did not
please Banker Rosenthal, who is very ex-
citable, and he angrily penned the following:

‘‘DEAR BARON Y——:—Who was it that
promised to pay up on the first of January?
You, my dear baron, you are the ‘iman.
Who was it that promised then to settle on
the first of March? You, my dear baron.
Who was it that. didn’t settle on the first of
March? You, my dear baron. Who is it,
then, who has broken his word twice, and is
an unmitigated scoundrel?

‘* Your obedient servant,
**Mosus ROSENTHAL,??

 

 

STUDY Book-keeping, Penman-
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QUT-DOOR SPORTS,

S. & S. Manual Library No. 7. Price, 10 Cents.
A book of instruction for playing many of the
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while well known, are elaborated, and many new
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Price 50 Cents.

Answers the purpose of a bound volume. Holding
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This book of
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EVERY YOUNG MAN |

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This book is a guide to success in life, as it not only
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teresting chapters on Fundamental Principles, Kinds
of Business, Qualifications for Business, Choice of a
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These volumes contain serial stories by
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S. &S, MANUAL LIBRARY, No. 6.
PRICE, 10 CENTS.

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Be sure to use “Mrs. Winslow's
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LETTER

 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  

 

SR Se

 

 

 

 

 

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set