ho od. ts, an ‘ks rs, by rk. ID ee, ac. six ‘he und oth IWS, ws dren ttle. WN 2 eT SS TH ee EN ae ee OD Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1895, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. t Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N.Y., Post-Office. . Vol. 11. aoe eee ee ak Now York, , May 25, 1895. ng2.50 per Year.” No. 264, Ee. ——— ~ Th i it ia HH Hil iii in Hi iain a i «( i‘ I ili Mi it it ! Mi , ii ‘ il mt iy ‘() | Seem ii vi i ili Hi Ml | iy i Mat Hei taategateret Ss Wh 1 nd y i 1 Wl tDa ell i i Mig iN i(i in 5 i 7 Wet in i Hy - , r Tyr en ty i] ic (it as ( Hi iH i it cu i) tii tie il iit ; . ili jit jill tai titi iit oe Hil 1 HH : mitt | PIRATE HOLT i ‘\: ' it | Way tied ali atl Af i! it ih Wellttlh wiry I Frith dail ' HH il Mit ‘Hi MT | iki Whi mt | THE COPPER DISK: OR, ‘ A STORY OF THE PACIFIC COAST. BY ENRIQUE H. LEWIS, Author of “Sword and Pen,” *‘A Young Free Lance,” “The King of the Island,” ete {“THE COPPER DISK” was commenced last week.] j CHAPTER IV. As he darted off, the young leader called out to the sailors he had just engaged: CHUNK’S UNEXPECTED RUSE. ‘Follow me, men; I may need your serv- ann ices at once.’ bau / ‘ SS QY ; HE sudden reappearance of the walk- They were nothing loath, and soon the THE OB JE wHi SEMED TO BE THE GLITTE ( ; ke tn 5 {es ing delegate with what were evidently | edifying spectacle of two lads on a dead run W aa a T E SUMED 1 Pan “pe ah cence Pate . 7 See een G reinforcements, sent Sel and Deb| with a full dozen of mariners at their heels Pe Pe eee Dery ve SLAN MUBPHY. “7 helter-skelter back toward the yacht. | was presented to those in sight. Before he TA ages had gone ten paces, Sel noticed the respect- ably-dressed fellow who had applied for the position of cook and steward, at his side. ‘‘What is the matter?’’ panted the man. ‘Do you expect trouble?”’ ‘‘Yes,’? grimly replied the lad, explaining the state of affairs. ‘“‘Don’t want you to sail the yacht, eh? Well, if they try to interfere you can count on me for help. And I think the others will give youa hand if you tell them what’s 9? ‘“‘Thanks! I will count on you,’’ grate- fully replied Sel. ‘‘Suppose you drop behind and prepare them. I will go ahead, and if I want you I’ll give you a signal.’’ His request was instantly obeyed. The crowd following the boys ceased running, and were speedily placed in possession of the facts. In the meantime, the youthful leader and his companion had gained the dock alongside of which the whale-back was moored. Six or seven brawny men were collected at the head of the gangway leading aboard, and Phelan Murphy stood near by harangu- ing them in a high-pitched voice. Suddenly catching sight of Sel, he advanced toward him, at the same time calling out: *‘Here be th’ young spalpanes, felleys. Phat do yez think av the loikes av thim running a stame yacht? Ho! ho! it do be our juty to kape thim here till th’ inspector arrives, Oi don’t know.”’ ‘‘Stand aside; 1 wish to board my vessel,’’ exclaimed Sel, contemptuously. ‘‘I haven’t any quarrel with you, nor have you the right to interfere with my business. If the Government inspector comes here I’ll talk to him. Stand aside, I say.’’ While speaking the lad attempted to step upon the gangway plank. ‘“No yez don’t,’’? shouted the delegate, interposing his burly figure. ‘*Yez don’t boord th’ craft till the inspector comes.’’ Two bright spots appeared upon Sel’s cheeks, and his eyes flashed ominously. He lifted his right hand as if for the purpose of striking his antagonist, when an interrup- tion came from an unexpected direction. As yet neither Charlie Burr nor Chunk Stanford had made their appearance. ‘The yacht seemed deserted save for a dense volume of smoke pouring from the rakish funnel. . Suddenly, however, a shrill and almost hysterical chuckle came from the _pilot- house, followed by the fat youth’s familiar voice, saying, sternly: ‘‘T’ll give you ten seconds to leave this wharf, you ruffians. Git, now!”’ With the last words a shining object ap- peared at one of the windows. Behind it was the rotund features of young Stanford. The object, which seemed to be the glitter- ing barrel of a rifle, was pointed directly at the head of Phelan Murphy, and that im- portant individual promptly dodged as if he had sighted an oncoming and _ business-like bullet. ‘‘Phat th’ duse——’’ he began in alarm, but again came the order: “Git, I tell you! IT’ll count ten, and if you haven’t left this neighborhood by that time I’ll blow the everlasting daylights out of you. One! two! three!’’ Muttering, huskily, under his breath, the delegate gave his followers an appealing glance, and then fled incontinently up the dock. It us unnecessary to say that the others were not far behind. Instantly taking advantage of the oppor- tunity, Sel beckoned to the sailors and boarded the yacht. He was met at the door of the pilot-house by Chunk, whose face was wreathed with triumphant smiles. ‘*What’s the matter with me, eh?’’ he de- manded. ‘4When any walking delegates get the better of this child they’ll have to rise early.’’ ‘‘Where on earth did you secure that rifle?’?’ asked Deb, wonderingly. ‘‘Rifle? What rifle?’’ ‘‘Why, the gun you pointed at Murphy and his gang.’’ ‘‘He! he! he! it wasn’t a gun,’’ gurgled the fat boy. Reaching inside the doorway, he produced the long brass nozzle of a fire hose. ‘‘I knew something hed to be done, so I faked up this little surprise. What’s the matter with that, eh?’’ After, enjoying a hearty laugh at Chunk’s stratagem, the work necessary to get the yacht under way was proceeded with. Sta- tioning Deb on the lookout for Murphy or any Government inspectors, Sel hurried to the fire-room with four men whom he had selected for duty in that department. He found Charlie Burr still hard at work feeding the furnaces. The steam gauge showed a pressure of one hundred and ten pounds, amply sufficient to run the engines. ‘‘Bully for you, Charlie!’ commended Sel, highly delighted at the young engin- eer’s efficient labors. ‘‘Be ready to start at a moment’s notice. We have scared away Mr. Murphy, and if the inspectors don’t turn up, wv’ll leave the dock in ten min- utes.’ Tam ready to start when you are,’’ re- plied the lad, drawing a grimy hand across his perspiring face. ‘‘Well, put these men to work and turn the astute Murphy. ‘*He’s not the man to give up so easily,’’ remarked the youthful leader. ‘‘I’m afraid he’ll turn up unexpectedly before we leave | the bay. However, we’ll risk it. Deb, oe a couple of men and stané by to cast off the hawsers. Save them if you can, but be} ready to cut loose if anything happens.’’ ‘‘Can I do anything?’’ respectfully asked | the man who had applied for the position of | cook. ‘‘There is nothing to be done in the galley at present, and I thought that I might probably be useful around decks.’’ 6 ‘*Do you understand steering?’’ queried Sel. ‘*Yes, thoroughly.”’ ‘‘Then you can take the wheel for the time being. By the way, what is your name?’’ ‘¢Wilton Morris. I live in the East, but I drifted out here in search of work, and have been only partially successful. ”’ ‘*You appear to be of a different class than the ordinary run of sailors,’’ smiled Sel, ‘‘and I presume you are.”’ Morris muttered something in return, and , then ascended to the pilot-house. There was | a certain air about the fellow that puzzled | the young captain, but affairs were too pressing at the moment for him to attempt to analyze the problem. Seeking out the watchman, who had wit- nessed the exciting course of events, Sel told | him briefly that he intended to sail at once. Hastily jotting down a short note to his uncle, stating the facts in the case, he gave it to the man, and bade him deliver the letter to Mr. Joshua Bruce without loss of time. ‘‘He’ll be surprised to find that we have left so unceremoniously,’’? Sel remarked to Chunk, who was standing near; ‘‘but I guess he’ll sympathize with us, and settle any trouble which may arise.’’ ‘‘What’s the matter if he don’t?’’ re- sponded the fat boy, with a toss of his head. ‘*If it comes to the worst, we’ll turn bloody pirates and roam the seas.’’ ‘*Yes, and roam into prison in about two | hours,’’ replied the young leader, dryly. ‘““That’s a great plan, my boy, but it won’t work in this year of our Lord. We’ll con- tent ourselves with legitimate pleasures, and leave the jolly Rodger and all that to some other kids.’’ The dock at which the whale-back was | moored was entirely clear of vessels. The | bow of the handsome craft pointed outward, so it was an easy matter to steam forth. Entering the pilot-house, Sel called down the engine-room tube and asked Charlie if he was ready. An affirmative answer was promptly forthcoming. All that remained was to cast off the hawsers and ring for half speed ahead. A command intended for Deb’s ears was trembling upon the young captain’s lips when a stifled exclamation came from the cook, Morris. To his surprise, Sel saw that the man had abandoned the wheel, and was crouching close to the deck of the little apartment. ‘‘Take your station,’’ commanded the lad, sharply; ‘‘we will be under way in a mo- ment,”’ ‘CAll right, sir; all right,’’ was the ready reply; but the speaker made no attempt to obey the order, remaining crouched below thé level of the pilot-house windows. Sel was on the point of demanding an ex- planation when he chanced to glance toward the dock. A man was approaching the yacht at arun. He was heavy-set and wore a dark beard. It was the stranger the lad had seen in his uncle’s office that noon. Suddenly there appeared behind him the familiar figure of Phelan Murphy. With the delegate Sel saw a tall, soldierly man clad in a neat uniform. Even at that distance it was easy,to recognize in him a Government inspector. The two had hardly came in sight when a number of Murphy’s friends rounded the corner of the building followed by a dozen blue-coated policemen. ‘‘Jumping Moses! we’re.in a box now!’’ exclaimed the youthful leader. He hesitated for a brief moment; then calling to Deb to sever the hawsers, gave the engine-room bell a determined jerk. With a vicious snap the ropes leading to the dock parted; a rumble of machinery sounded below; the stanch iron cylinder quivered under the strain, and with rapidly increas- ing speed the yacht moved out into the bay. A hoarse command came from the wharf. ‘‘Stop! Come back, in the name of the law !?? Sel exchanged triumphant glances with pilot-house; then he turned to give an order disappeared. CHAPTER V. THE ESCAPE. e lessly, moved by the propeller’s speed, Crcoco dw: AN es VV. | styles himself. He don’t look much like a | Chunk, who was standing just outside the to the temporary steersman, but Morris had HE steering wheel was revolving aim- \ and the whale-back surged from one 7* side to the other like a cork tossed by avoid a disaster. Thoroughly angry, he bade | Chunk find the fellow at once. **Confound it! what’s up with him?’’ he added. ‘‘Is he a traitor to us, I wonder? If $0——?? Just then Morris crept into the pilot-house from the side opposite the dock. He meekly took his place at the wheel, and in reply to a torrent of words from Sel, said, submis- sively: ‘‘T beg your pardon, sir; I was wrong to leave, but there is a man on the dock I did not care to have see me. He is that heavy- set fellow with the beard, waving his hands after us.’’ The young leader stared at the speaker in bewilderment. The man he mentioned could only be that mysterious personage who had | acted so queerly in the importing merchant’s ‘*What kind of an entanglement have we | fallen into???’ he muttered, to himself. | ‘*Hither every person has gone daft, or| there are some strange doings on foot. Well, | I can't bother with it now; but I'll keepa weather eye on Mr. Wilton Morris, as he | cook, anyway, and if he turns out to be a| fraud, ashore he goes hot-foot.’’ Chunk broke in upon his reveries at that moment. ‘‘Cricky! but they are raising the duse on | that dock !’’ exclaimed the fat youth, point- | | ing astern. ‘‘Look at those policemen tear- ing around as if a foot-pad was chasing them. What’s the matter, eh? Whough! they are signaling a tug. Wonder if they | intend to chase us?’’ By this time the whale-back had cleared the wharf, and was a dozen lengths away from the water-front. Between it and the | shore a powerful sea-going tug had inter- | posed itself, and as Sel looked in that direc- | tion it swung in toward the dock in obedi- | ence to a request from the Government in- | spector. ‘‘They intend to follow us; that’s cer- | tain,’’? muttered the lad. ‘Well, it will be a | test of speed, and if I mistake not, this beauty can show its heels to any Frisco tug.”’ Snatching up a glass, he watched the} movements.ashore. He saw the powerful | craft swing alongside the dock; saw the | crowds of police, delegates and the Govern- ment inspector hastily board her, and then | his eyes fell upon the heavy-set figure of the | man with the dark beard. The latter had not followed the rest, but had waited until | the tug started away; then he hurried up the dock as fast as his legs could carry him. “*T’d give a great deal to know who that fellow is, and what business he has with my uncle,’’? muttared Sel. ‘‘That little affair in the office this noon was mysterious enough | to arouse anybody’s suspicions. They cer- tainly acted as if they were hatching a plot against some one. I hope it isn’t me.’’ A long, deep-toned whistle came from the tug. It was a polite signal for the whale- back to stop. Im a spirit of mischief, Sel grasped the yacht’s whistle cord and sounded an emphatic defiance. ‘*Tt’s a good job it an’t a revenue cutter with a gun in the bow,’’ said Chunk, lean- ing through the _ pilot-house window. ‘“They’d soon bring us up with a round turn, as the sailors say.’’ ‘*Yes, but as it happens, it is only a tug, built more for power than speed,’’ replied Sel. ‘‘We are drawing ahead of them now, and if nothing breaks we’ll pass through Golden Gate before they reach the edge of the Presidio. Still, I’d like to beat them a little more than that. Suppose you run be- low and see if we can’t geta few more revolutions out.of the engines, Chunk.’’ The tat boy disappeared in the direction of the curved deck, and a moment or two later an increased vibration of the iron cylinder showed that he had coaxed greater speed from the engines. The beautiful whale-back yacht attracted considerable interest as she swept past the front of the city. Crowds gathered upon the various wharves, and pointed toward her with eager gestures. To them it was evi- dently an impromptu race between the two craft. Little did they think that it was really a grave defiance of the United States Govern- ment itself, and that it was a race for the capture of the culprits. ‘‘Tf they knew the real truth there would be a hundred tugs after us,’’ remarked Sel, grimly. ‘*Yes, but we are safe enough, as it is,’’ replied Morris, with a glanee astern. ‘‘The question is, what will you do after leaving Frisco? This escapade will be telegraphed far and wide, you know, and they will be on the lookout for the whale-back in every port along the coast.’’ Sel’s expressive face assumed a troubled expression. He saw full well that the cook was right, and for the first time since the idea of running away occurred to him, he regretted the step. At first he had thought that it would be a the engines over to see if they are all right.’’ Regaining the deck, Sel found the coast still clear. The walking delegate had disap- peared behind a cluster of brick buildings at cluster of piling, marking the site of a new ' dock, and just as Sel noticed the absence of , the recreant cook, the yacht’s bow grazed the obstacle. a watery ripple. Directly in front was a great ‘‘lark’’? to fool the walking delegate, and to run the yacht himself without aid 9 : peas 5 aerton ; > : the head of the dock. This was rather omin- | Springing upon the wheel, the lad sent it’ events of the past hour had thoroughly ous. It portended a new plan on the part of | spinning to starboard, barely in time to | changed his opinion. ‘*Confound it! told my uncle that we boys would run the whale-back alone,’’ Sel exclaimed, half angrily. ‘‘He didn’t offer any objections, but seemed to consent.’’ ‘Perhaps he thought that you wouldn’t leave until you had secured some kind of a permission from the authorities,’’ replied Morris. ‘*Maybe so. Well, there isn’t any use in crying over spilt milk. We are in for it, and we might as well have-some fun while we are about it,”’ ‘Then you don’t intend to give up?’’ queried the steersman, with a curious smile. ‘*Not much! We’ll run out to sea and hold a council of war; then decide what we shall do.”’ ‘*If you will pardon me for saying so, you are rather young to have had much experi- office. | ence at sea,’’ ventured Morris, whose face showed signs of great satisfaction at his companion’s decision. ‘‘] know that,’’ confessed Sel, honestly. ‘Still, I know navigation pretty well, and can handle a craft not under sail. I have spent four summers with an old captain, a friend of mine, cruising up and down the coast, and he taught me a good deal. I have been in every harbor between San Diego and Sitka, and know them fairly well.’ ‘‘Well, Iam satisfied to trust myself to your skill,’’? replied the cook, respectfully. **T wanted a job rather badly, and——”’ ‘‘T say, what do you know about that man with the dark beard?’’ suddenly inter- rupted the young leader, eying his com- panion keenly. Morris bent over the wheel and gave the spokes a half-turn. After watching its effect for a moment, he replied, evasively: ‘‘Nothing much, sir. He and I had a bit of a row once aboard a steamer, and since that time I’ve tried to keep out of his way. He’s a bad lot, and will do anything to get square with a fellow.”’ ‘*Ts he a steamship man?’’ ‘tN-no; I don’t think so. I ran across him on a Pacific Mail liner coming up from Panama, He was a passenger then.’’ ‘‘What’s his name?’’ persisted Sel. ‘‘Why, it was—er—it was John—er— Smith, I think,’’ replied Morris, stammer- ing. ‘*Humph! you don’t tell a story very straight,’’ dryly remarked the lad, looking the speaker full in the face. ‘‘It is my opinion that you know more than you pre- tend to. However,: we’ll talk about that later.’’ ‘*Perhaps you will allow me to ask if you know the man?’’ suddenly queried Mor- ris. ‘*‘No, but Ihave met him before,’’ an- swered Sel, glancing through the after win- dow at the pursuing tug. She had fallen behind perceptibly, but those on board did not show any signs of abandoning the chase. he said, doubtfully. ‘‘He may , 4 to me all right, and then he may kick oo end of a row. Still, as far as I can dt is the best plan.’ Couldn’t we run in near some port above here, and after landing you, put out to sea again?’’ asked Charlie. Before replying, Sel took down a chart from a shelf. Spreading the paper near the binnacle lamp, he scanned the lines drawn thereon for several moments. ‘‘There is Bodega Bay, forty-five miles north of Frisco,’’ he said, musingly. ‘‘We might touch there near the mouth of the Tomales River. The crew could row nie to the town of Marshall, where I can catch'a train on the North Pacific Coast Railway.’’ ‘‘Where will that carry you?’’ asked Deb. ‘To Sausalito?’’ ‘‘Yes. From there I can reach the city by ferry, you know.”’ ‘‘How about returning to the yacht?’’ queried Charlie Burr. ‘We will have to arrange a plan. It is hard to say just when I can return. It will take me all night to consult Uncle Joshua, I suppose. Then it won’t do for the whale- back to approach the coast in the day- time.’? ‘*Why wouldn’t it be a good idea for us to lay off until dark to-morrow evening and then stand in toward the eastern shore of this Bodega Bay? You can make a flare of wood to denote your position,’’ suggested Deb. ‘‘That isn’t necessary,’’ quickly decided Sel. ‘‘It will be just as safe for you to send in a boat after night-fall and get me. Now, how about this plan? Can you think of any- thing better, chums?’’ ‘“You’ll get supper first, won’t you?’’ ventured Chunk, smacking his lips. ‘‘Confound you, and your supper, you blamed glutton,’’ retorted the young leader. ‘‘Jump down to the engine-room and start up at full speed. There won’t be anything to eat aboard of this craft until we sight the mouth of Tomales River.’’ Feebly potesting, the fat boy went below. Presently a thick volume of smoke, bespan- gled with glittering sparks, indicated that he was losing little time. Presently Charlie also descended to add his services, and the whale- back was soon heading northward, urged to its utmost speed by the powerful engines. ‘*While I am gone, you can straighten up things about the yacht,’’ Sel said to Deb, after a while. ‘‘You can set the crew to work making our pennant with the name of the club on it, and also overhaul the stores to see just what we have on board.”’ ‘‘Have you noticed that there isn’t any name on the bow and stern. It’s a queer omission.’’ ‘*T suppose uncle intended to permit me to select a name for the craft. How about ar- ranging a name that will include all our States? Let me see! Why couldn’t we call her the Woca? That will mean W-asbington, O-regon, C-alifornia, and A-rizona.’’ ‘“That’s simply splendid,’’ replied Deb, lost in admiration. ‘‘There will be one drawback.’’ ‘¢What’s that?’’ ‘*Chunk will kick because my State is mentioned first.”’ ‘‘No doubt; but if he does we’ll call it mutiny and hang him to the yard-arm, or something like that,’’ laughed Sel. As the night grew very dark the engines were presently slowed down to an eight-knot speed. Finding that it would take them fully five hours to make Bodega Bay the young captain gave orders to have supper served in the cabin. By his directions the crew had already been given their meal forward. Deb and Charlie ate first, then Sel and Chunk hurriedly seated themselves at the cabin table. The new cook had arranged a fair repast from the stores on hand, and the fat youth speedily fell to at the viands. The youthful leader lingered at the table after Chunk had finished. He was presently approached by Morris, who bore a letter in his hand. ‘*T understand that you are going ashore, sir,’’ he said, respectfully. ‘‘ Will you kindly post this.’’ ‘*How do you know I am going ashore?’’ coolly asked Sel. ‘‘f overheard you say so in the pilot- house. ”’ ‘‘Then you were listening, as I thought?’’ ‘*Not intentionally, sir,’’ said Morris, calmly. ‘‘I went to the door to ask when you wished supper served, but seeing that you were engaged, I forbore to disturb you. It was then [ heard you say, something about landing and returning to Frisco.’’ Sel rested his arms upon the table and eyed the speaker long and earnestly. ‘*Look here, Morris,’’ he finally said; ‘*who are you, anyway?’’ ‘*Wilton Morris,’’? was the stolid reply.’ ‘Yes, I know that—or at least you say so; but, to tell you thé truth, I think you are playing some kind of a game on board this yacht, I have been watching you, and I have about reached the conclusion that you had better go ashore with me. I think we can get along without your services.”’ ‘-Why, sir, [—— TI haven’t done any- thing,’’ stammered the cook, aghast. ‘‘I hope you will not discharge me, sir. I bave been out of work so long, and I would like to retain this position. You are mistaken, indeed you are.’’ ‘*Will you tell me the truth about the heavy-set man with the dark beard?’’ asked Sel. ‘*T told you all that I know, sir.’’ The lad arose from the table, and walked to he door. Pausing with one hand upon the kneb, he said, firmly: ‘*T do not believe you, Morris. There is some mystery connected with that man, and my uncle is mixed up init. You are play- ing a part, and I think this yacht will be more secure with you ashore. Be ready to leave when we reach Bodega Bay.”’ ‘“‘One moment, please.’ The cook advanced until his face was close to Sel’s. There was an expression of extreme earnestness upon his countenance, and his next words were uttered in a tone of pro- found warning. ‘‘Selden Bruce, if you do not permit me to accompany you on this cruise you will rue it to your dying day,’’ he said. ‘‘No; I will not explain—not another word. Put me ashore if you please, but remember what I have said!’’ (TO BE CONTINUED). 4 o-» — —— A LUDICROUS ADVENTURE. BY HENRY CLARKE, er ay ONCE had an adventure with a very } ludicrous side to it. I had been spending some weeks in => the State of Maine, feeling that I needed rest from business, and that outdoor life—the fragrance of the pine woods, fishb- ing in the streams, and an occasional day with my gun—would soon bring me back to my old-time vigor. I succeeded one day in bagging two brace of grouse, and in the afternoon I came to the house of a small farmer, where I had a rest and a good meal. I had been there before, and it was sug- gested that, as the day was pretty well ad- vanced, I should stay over night and go home in the morning. I was very glad to agree to this, for I must admit that I was tired, so I handed over a brace of grouse to the farmer’s wife, and was happy in the anticipation of a good supper. There was a young man, a city nephew of the farmer, visiting them. He did not know much about either shoot- ing or fishing, but he was an appreciative listener when his uncle and I were exchang- ing out experiences. The supper was well cooked. The birds were dainty enough to set be- fore a king, and after we had done justice to them we sat down, smoked our pipes and talked. The farmer’s wife and the children went to bed, but still we kept telling stories. The farmer, it seemed to me, was drawing the long bow occasionally. I did not keep count of the number of wild-cats he said he had killed; and as for deer—well those that he brought down must have been bigger than any that I ever saw or heard of, When it comes to story-telling, I do not let any one get ahead of me, and probably I drew a little on my imagination also in what I told. The young man from the city was an eager listener, and, as my gun was a much finer One than his uncle’s, I think he looked upon me as a wonderfully expert and daring sportsman. The farmer, in answer to a question of mine as to whether he was troubled much by bears, said that for the past two weeks a bear had been prowling about in the neigh- borhood, and had stolen at least five of his igs. z The pigs had been allowed to roam about in the woods, but this was no longer safe, and so he had built a strong log pen, and confined the porkers there. The bear was cunning, too, as well as bold. Three nights before, the farmer had been awakened by a squealing among the pigs. He had gone out with his gun, got near the pen, and fired ata dark object which was trying to get inside. It was the bear, for he saw it shuffling off in the dim moonlight toward a swamp, where it evidently had its headquarters. ‘*Well,’? I said, ‘‘I only wish that the old rascal would come along to-night. It strikes me that my gun would settle bruin.’’ ‘‘T shouldn’t wonder if he did come to- night,’’? replied the farmer; ‘‘and I’ll tell you what. You go to sleep, and I’ll sit up a spell. If I hear any sound, I’ll rouse you.’’ ‘“‘All right!’’ I-said. ‘‘You can count on me!’ So I threw myself down on some chairs in the kitchen where we had been sitting, and was soon fast asleep. The farmer put out the light, so that the bear, if he did pay us a visit, might not | suspect that anything was wrong, and he and his nephew, who was all excitement, sat waiting and listening in the dark. I had slept perhaps a couple of hours, when I was awakened by the farmer shaking me, and saying: ‘*Get up. He’s here, sure enough. I can hear him.”’ You may be very certain that I was soon on my feet, and ready for whatever was wanted of me. On each side of the house, at its rear, was a fence, Instead of being straight, these fences sloped toward each other, and at the dis- tance of a hundred yards from the house, where they ended, they came near together. It was at this point that the hog-pen was situated. A plan was soon decided upon. I would steal quietly along the fence on the left side, toward the pen, while the farmer would take the right side. One of us was, therefore, almost sure to come upon the bear, and, according to the farmer, he was hoping for that distinction. As for me—well, if the bear was on my side of the fence the matter would soon be settled. The young man from the city, of course, was not needed. He knew nothing about bears, and, be- sides, he did not have a gun; so he would stand by the house and look on. We opened the rear door quietly, and stepped outside. It was a dreary-looking night—cloudy, damp and chilly—and I cannot say that my enthusiasm showed any signs of growing stronger; but I had started. My reputation was at stake; the hog-pen was the goal, and I must reach it. I crept along the fence cautiously, peering ahead in the darkness. The farmer, no doubt, was doing the same at the other fence, and Iwas taking my time. It would scarcely be polite for me to get to the pen in advance of the owner. Soon, however, I was almost abreast of it, I could only see it indistinctly, and I won- dered from which side the bear proposed making his raid. I stood still and listened. Suddenly there was a low snort or grow], followed by a shrill shriek from some affrighted pig. I must do something, so I raised my gun, fired both barrels simultaneously, and then turned and fled. My share of the work was done; there was no need for me to spend as long a time in going back as 1 had taken in coming. The farmer’s nephew was no doubt eager to know what had happened, and it was my duty to relieve his anxiety. So I kept on, and was soon near the house. Isaw some one standing near the door, and, imagining it to be the young man, I yelled: ‘‘Open the door!’’ for I believed I heard the bear behind me. My shout was answered by a yell of fear from the figure, which threw itself against the door. It fell in with a crash. There were more yells; a man was on top, while another person was evidently underneath. Such kicking and struggling and shouting there were on the floor, while the farmer’s wife, who had awakened, added her cries to the din, and the children kept screaming: ‘*Tt’s the bear! It’s the bear!’’ A light was brought, and there was soon an explanation of all the trouble. It turned out that the farmer, who took the right fence, did not go far. He felt sure, he said, that the bear had chosen the side on which I was, and so he got back to the house and waited there. My gun was the best, I was a sure shot, and would do all that was needed. His nephew stood in the open doorway, while he himself rested on the stump of a tree near by. He heard my two shots fired, but did not see me coming up the lot until I was almost upon bim. My shout had terrified both men. In the darkness they thought I was the bear, and it was their yells which I had heard. The young man rushed inside, and had just closed the door, when his uncle threw his whole weight against it. I was inclined to be angry at having been left to face all the danger, and yet I could not help smiling. The more each of us thought of it, the more ludicrous the. situation appeared, and there followed heartier peals of laughter than had ever sounded before in that old kitchen. Next morning we went down to the pen. Some of my buckshot was found in the logs, and the bear’s tracks were plain on the earth, but that was all. I left the farm after breakfast, and have never been back since, so I do not know if the bear has been killed or if he still comes for his midnight lunch to the hog-pen. ~~ 8 HE ONLY WANTED TO KNOW. ‘‘Papa,’’ said an inquisitive boy, ‘‘don’t fishes have legs?”’ ‘*They do not,’’? answered papa. ‘‘Why don’t they, papa?’’ ‘*Because fishes can swim, and so they don’t require legs.’’ The small boy was silent for a few min- utes, and papa forgot about his questions. Shortly after the youth asked: * | *¢Papa, ducks have legs, don’t they?’’ ‘*Why, yes, ducks have legs.’’ ‘‘Well, ducks swim, don’t they?’’ $¢'Vas,?? ‘‘Then why don’t fishes have legs if ducks do, or why don’t ducks not have any legs if fishes don’t?’’ Papa gave it up. sO aang ge ase ss kore see rapes oe Ly) THINGS. EDITED BY DAVID PARKS. —_——__ + —-— HOW TO BUILD A DAM. 3 © © 6 : camel ( iS) OYS who live in the country know 13 that a good brook or small stream PY) of running water will afford more fun 73 than anything to be found in field or forest. The water running swiftly over the stones, or creeping slowly through the grass, never fails to give plenty of sport. There are waterfalls and rapids to bé admired, smooth reaches of water just right for sailing model sloops and schooners, deep pools for swim- ming and bathing in the warm weather- and in the larger brooks there are good fish, ing grounds. When a party of boys find a small brook, one of the first things they wish to do is to dam it up, and to make a waterfall. The 2ascade falling over the top of the dam, and the smooth sheet of water behind it will both furnish a good deal of amusement. We can put up water-wheels, and sail boats or bathe in the slack water above the dam, beside having a good deal of fun in execu- ting the work. Suppose we have a smali and shallow brook running swiftly down a hill side, and boiling and tumbling over the stones in its bed. There are plenty of loose stones ana bits of rock in reach, and pieces of sod and turf may be dug up along the banks, and this is all we need. Any boy can pile a row of stones across a stream, and thus makea rude dam. He may even know enough tc stop up the cracks with lumps of sod. But such an affair is almost sure to burst, anc let all the water out, and thus make a wreck of the whole thing. If we are going into this thing we must ‘all ourselves engineers, and do the work in scientific style. There is a good deal of science in building adam. The moment you stop a stream of water it ‘‘banks up,’’ as the engineers say, behind the stoppage, and forms what is salled a ‘‘slack water.’’? The water behind the obstruction can go no farther, and it stops, but the water behind it keeps coming down, and, as it must go somewhere, it spreads out behind and aboveit. More water comes down and is added to this, and the slack water grows wider and deeper. When it touches the banks it can spread no farther in that direction, so it piles up higher and higher, and extends backward up the stream. Thus the slack water grows deeper and deeper till it mounts to the top of the dam, and then it runs over the top and we have a waterfall. This slack water behind a dam _ looks smooth and innocent enough, but, really, it is full of stored-up power, and if there isa weak spot in the dam it willsurely find it out, and, in time, dash the dam to pieces. Suppose’we have a brook we wish to dam up. Put your hand in the running water. ou can feel the water rush through your fingers with considerable force. Dip your hand into the still water behind a dam. There does not seem to be any force there. Isn’t there? Indeed, there is, and a great deal more than in the running water, and it is pressing against the dam all the time. Suppose, before the dam was built, we blocked up the stream with a pound of loose sand and found that the water swept it all away in one minute. We then put up a dam and find that it takes an hour for the water to back up behind it before it runs over the top. Now, it is easy to see that all the force that the water spent during the sixty min- utes it was collecting behind the dam is locked upinitand is constantly pressing against the dam and trying to push it out of the way. No matter how calm and still the slack water appears, it is full of stored- up force, ready at any instant to break loose and tear the dam away. Therefore such a dam to resist this force must be sixty times as strong as the pound of sand. This gives us an idea of the great strength we must put into our engineering works unless we wish to lose our dam aud our fun at the same time We have plenty of loose stones, and with a spade we can dig up sods on the banks. Let us see if we can.-make a scientific dam that will be a good piece of engineering. First we must select the location. It must be a narrow place in the stream, to save labor. The banks must be high, or the water that piles up behind the dam will overflow the banks and rush past the dam on either side. We must also choose a place where the bot- tom of the brook is rough and stony, so that our works will have a solid foundation and will not slip down stream. Having found the right place, begin by lay- ing a wide, rough wall of large stones across the stream at right angles with the current. Plant the stones firm and solid and wedge them in tight with smaller stones, just as you have seen the masons lay a stone wall for a fence or cellar. Make the lower side of the wall, the side that faces down stream, smooth and straight, but leave the upper side rough and irregular. When this wall rises above the water, pile smaller stones and sods against the upper side so as to make a long slope. Put no turf on the lower side, but raise the | wall smooth and steep with big stones. "As the dam rises it may be made narrower and narrower, till we reach the height we want. | In doing this we do not draw both sides up alike. The lower side or face of the dam is | made steep, the upper side must be very | sloping. The pressure, or weight of the slack water behind a dam, bears equally in every di- |rection. It not only bears against the dam, but against the banks on both sides, and against the bottom of the stream. The banks are strong and cannot be pushed away, and, of course, the bottom of the brook can never be moved, for the whole world is under it. This explains why we make the long slope at the back of the dam. The in- clined surface takes off some of the pressure against the back of the dam that tends to push it down stream, and turns it into pressure against the solid bottom of the brook. Now this is only a little that might be said in relation to making a dam, but it is enough to give you an idea of the right way to make one. —— > © >- [This Story Will Not Be Published in Book-Form. } THE BOY GATTLE KING. celica guciclmnrent A Story of the Great Coloratt Combine, cocina ip eens BY HARRY DANGERFIELD, Author of ‘*The Boy from the West,’? ete. [“THE BOY CATTLE KING” was commenced in No. 259. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents, } ey CHAPTER XVI. A DEFIANT CAPTIVE. REACHERY !”’’ The word flashed \ Kirk’s mind as he felt himself furi- CF ously hurled from the saddle by the half-blood boy whom he had trusted so im- plicitly and blindly. As he struck the ground with stunning force the report of a rifle rang through the pass, and he seemed to see dark forms come leaping over the rocks toward him. Then came a blank, darkness, oblivion. His next sensation was of swinging through the night on the back of a horse, to which he was bound in a secure and painful manner. At first his mind was in sucha whirl that he could not piece together the jumble of thoughts with which his brain soon seemed to be filled, but when he had taken a firmer grasp on consciousness he was able to think in a coherent manner. He knew well enough he was a captive, and it was pretty certain he had fallen into the hands of the powerful and unscrupulous organization whose enmity he had provoked. That he was in a bad scrape he felt cer- tain, and he wondered how he was going to get out of it. Where were they taking him? What would they do with him? And then came the bitterest thought of all, ‘«Pete—he betrayed me—led me into the trap! He has turned traitor!’’ A low groan was wrung from the lips of the helpless lad. He had believed Pete faith- ful and true, but now he was certain the Indian boy had been bought by the Cattle- men’s Combine. At first he was bitterly grieved, but, as he continued to think of it, he became furi- ous, for he remembered how it had been his purpose to lift the half-blood above his real level, and make of hima man who would be respected for all of the mixed blood in his veins. He had promised the dying sheep- herder to look after Pete, and it had been his sincere intention to abundantly remuner- ate the half-blood lad for his faithfulness. ‘*Oh, he shall be sorry!’’ thought the un- fortunate young rancher, in a truly boyish way. ‘‘It was a miserable trick!’’ Then he thought how he had received the warning from Silver Sim, and how, right on the heels of that warning, Pete had ap- peared with the story of Lon Sawtell’s treachery. When he remembered the half- blood’s manner of evident: sincerity in his statements Don actually squirmed with anger. ‘**Tt was all a lie!’’ he cried, mentally. ‘‘I do not believe Sawtell has sold out. It was a trick to lure me into this trap—a dirty trick! I wonder if Sim Dolliver had any- thing to do with it? It seems as if his warn- ing was part of a plot to decoy me. Is it possible every one I have believed true and trusty is false and treacherous?’’ ‘ Poor Don! His condition of mind was not an enviable one, to say the least. His eyes were not blindfolded, and he could see mounted men on every side, silent and grim, swaying to the motions of their horses as if part of the animals. They made no talk, but rode on and on after their leader. The stars studded the vast dome of heaven, and there was a silvery tinge in the east that told the moon would soon come riding up gloriously to flood the great plain with light. through Don and again he called, but still the grim horse- | men rode straight on, making no reply. The moon came up; a soft breeze swept | the plain; the horses’ hoofs beat a changing | rhythm; the wide brims of the horsemen’s | sombreros flapped up and down with their | motions, causing their grim faces to appear | light and disappear in the shifting and shadow. Suffering intense agony though he was, Don'clinched his teeth to keep from crying out again—to keep from groaning and beg- ging. He had decided it would be useless to appeal to his captors, and he resolved to show them he had nerve enough to keep his mouth closed. Thus they rode, with the moon sailing higher and higher, and the night sweeping on to its meridian. Thus they rode with the night waning, the moonlight growing thin- ner, and the stars beginning to pale and sicken. Dawn was not far away when they ap- proached a black hulk of buildings from which several loud-mouthed dogs came lunging out, to be quieted by a word from one of the men. There they stopped, and Don, almost fainting from exhaustion, was let down from his painful position, but he was too stiff and sore to stand alone. Without delay, two of the men hustled the ‘aptive into the nearest building, which proved to bea ranch-house. Up a flight of stairs he was taken, and dumped uncere- moniously on the hard floor of a room. Then the men left him, and he heard them bolt the door after they went out. ‘Well, I wonder where I am?’’ he mut- tered, sitting up and rubbing his swollen arms and legs. ‘‘And what are they going to do with me now they have me?’’ After a time, he rose to his feet. The room was dark, and he felt his way cau- tiously about, not knowing what it con- tained. He had about decided it was bare of furniture, when he ran against a small bed that stood hard up against a wall. He sat down on the bed and meditated. As he sat there faint rays of light began to sift through some cracks above his head, and he saw that the ceiling was formed of boards crudely placed: together. Somewhere in the upper portion of the building there was a window that let in the light which reached him through the cracks. Where were the windows to the room he was in? Aided by the faint light, he sought for them, and he found one, but it was boarded up securely, so no light could enter by it. ‘*Well, they seem to have prepared this place for me,’’ said the boy captive. ‘‘This window was recently boarded up. My friends of the Combine are very thought- ful!’ After a time he heard footsteps ascending the stairs. The sounds stopped at the door, and the bolts were shot back, indicating some person was about to enter. Don had already discovered he was quite unarmed, not even his pocket-knife having been left to him; but he rose to his feet and faced the door, repressing a feeling of ex- citement. Then came a sudden gleam of light, and two men walked into the room, one of them holding a lighted lamp. The door was care- fully closed behind them, and the captive found himself face to face with Miles Darl- ton and Garvice Seely. Darlton held the light above his head, staring curiously at the lad who stood there facing them with his eyes gleaming and his teeth set. Seely grinned, and rubbed his hands over each other, as if he were wash- ing them, while he observed, mm an oily manner: ‘*T trust you are feeling none the worse for your night ride, my dear nephew? You seem rather pale. Now that you have re- turned to my care, in the future your health will be carefully looked after by me.’’ A cry of anger actually forced itself from the quivering lips of the boy. ‘*How dare you?’’ he hotly demanded— ‘show dare you perpetrate this outrage? You’ll find there is a law here in the West !’’ ‘‘The young man seems excited,’’ said Darlton, with a sneer. ‘‘His nerves must be unstrung.’’ ‘tOh, he will recover from that after a time,’’ assured Seely, in a significant man- ner. ‘‘I’ll give him something that will quiet his nerves.’’ As if fearing an immediate attack, Don fell back, his cilnched hands partially up- lifted, while his whole attitude was one of defiance. ‘*Will you be good enough to tell me why you have brought me here?’’ he asked, hold- ing himself in check. ‘Our principal reason for bringing you here was because we happened to want to,’’ answered Miles Darlton, harshly. ‘‘We are going to attempt to beat a little sense into your head by seme means.’’ ‘‘T thought you pretended to be gentle- men?’’ exclaimed the undaunted lad. ‘‘You can make no such pretensions in the future, for you have shown yourselves ruffians of the most common sort !’’ ‘*Great Jupiter!’’ grated the owner of the Aching in every limb, Don gained control of his voice, and called to his captors. They | heeded. him not in the least, although he Double D. ‘‘The young dog has a sharp knew they must have heard him. Again | cried Seely, holding up both hands, an ex- pression of horror on his face. ‘'There was |}a time when he dared use no such language in my persence.’’ ‘*Are you certain this is the same boy, Mr. Seely?’’ asked the other. ‘‘ Because if you have no legal authority over him, you had better turn the young galoot over for the Combine to deal with. Now that we have our hands on him, we can soon bring him to terms.’’ ‘*Ah, but this is the boy—the very boy. [ll prove it to your satisfaction. If I am right he has a scar on his left arm near the elbow—a scar made by the blade of a sharp knife. I threw the knife myself.’’ ‘*What’s that?’’ broke in Darlton. ‘‘ You don’t mean to say you threw a knife at the boy??? ‘*Oh, no; oh, no! It was quite an acci- dent—quite an accident,’’ lied the oily scoundrel. ‘‘Of ccurse I did not intend to hit the boy with the knife. But the scar is there, and it will prove beyond the ghost of a doubt that I have a right to take charge of this youngster and bring him up in the way he should go.’’ He advanced toward Don. who cried: ‘*Don’t touch me—don’t you dare!’’ ‘*Then thrust up your left sleeve and let us see your arm. If thescar is not there, I?ll acknowledge I have no right over you as your legal guardian.’’ , ‘*My legal guardian. is Owen North, of Denver, and he is pretty sure to. make it warm for you when he hears: how I have been treated.”’ ‘*Show your arm.’’ *ENO TT! ‘¢You will not?”’ ‘‘Not of my own free will, and I warn you to keep your hands, off me or you’ll get hurt! You are two to one, and I am a boy, but Il] fight!’’ CHAPTER XVII. SAVING AN ENEMY’S LIFE. MNHAT he meant it, was evident by his “2? manner, and the two men stared at sI'\ him in wonder. The wonder on Darl- <7 ton’s face was not unmixed with ad- miration, for the man was one who could admire ‘‘pure sand’’ if it-was of the kind that defied physical injury, while the loftier traits of moral heroism might have aroused nothing but contempt in his breast. On the other hand, Garvice Seely, who had seemed so smooth and oily, now showed his teeth in anything but a pleasant way, looking as if he longed to leap on the boy and tear him with his working fingers. Of the two men, it was plain Seely was the most vicious and dangerous, for all of his usual oily manner and ministerial air. At that moment his true nature gleamed out, and it is not surprising that the un- armed boy felt a cold chill run oyer his body. For some moments after Don’s defiant words, all three were silent, and it wasa battle of eyes. Then Seely began creeping forward, inch by inch, slowly and surely. Don retreated to the foot of the bed, giving way as the man came on, but never taking his eyes from the shifty orbs of his enemy. He knew he could not retreat far, for the room was not very large, and his thumping heart was filled with a sensatiou of unutterable despair. ‘*T tell you to keep your hands off me he repeated. ‘‘I am only a boy, but you'll find | am not weak and helpless. I shall hurt you if you touch me.’’ ‘‘By Jove! he means it!’’ burst from Darlton; ‘‘and he’l! do his best to keep his word. You'll have your hands full there, Mr. Seely.’ “Then put that lamp on the shelf beside the door and give me your assistance,’ snapped the Easterner. ‘‘[ am going to look at his arm and settle this poimt beyond 4 doubt.’ ; Darlton placed the lamp on the shelf, which was a shaky affair at best, and joine Seely, the two men pinning Don hard up against the wall, to which he had placed b® back. ‘‘Now hold steady, youngster.’’ said thé owner of Double D, mildly. ‘‘This is noth ing like pulling a tooth. All we want is see that bare left arm, and——’’ ‘*You’ll get this bare left fist !’’ Darlton had attempted to clutch the boyy but Don squirmed aside and gave the mau blow in the wind that doubled him up 14 most surprising manner. Then Seely leaped forward, but De ducked low and flung himself hard again® the man’s knees. Y With a half-smothered cry, the Easterlf plunged forward, striking’ his head W? stunning violence against the wall, 19? falling in a heap to the floor. ; 3 Panting, desperate. his teeth set, his 9 on the door that led from the room. pis wiry captive scrambled forward ov nd hands and knees, staggered to his feet, sprang panther-like toward freedom. Dazed and somewhat stunned thot was, Garvice Seely comprehended the purpose, and he managed to splutter: 7, ‘*Stop him—Darlt’n! He’s—trying—# "way |’? Miles Darlton’s fighting temper had e igh eo tongue !”’ ‘*T am amazed at his insolence—amazed !’’ aroused by the forceful and unexpecteé O] bi fe ne sti se a Ss a6 uu of it 78 he had received in the wind, and he re- covered with great rapidity from the effect of Don’s defensive movement. He was fully as quick as Seely to see that the captive was | making a break for liberty, and he sprang | after him. Don reached the door, clutched it, tore it open, and in another moment he would have bounded through. ‘*No, you don’t!’ The words sounded in his ear, and then he felt a pair of thick arms clasped about his neck, dragging him back by sheer brute strength, breaking his hold on the door, and seeming to handle him as if he were a child. Still he did not give up. He had so nearly tasted freedom that a perfect frenzy stirred his blood, and he squirmed and struggled like one gone mad. ‘*Keep still!’? grated Darlton, retaining his grasp on the writhing lad with difficulty. ‘*You are making a fool of yourself!”’ The man’s voice was hoarse with passion, for the worst side of his nature had been aroused, and all his better instincts were subservient for the time. One of his pudgy hands crept to Don’s throat, and fastened there. It was his purpose to choke the boy rancher into submission, but it seemed to Don that he intended to end the struggle and a life at the same time. Inspired by the fancy that it was his only show for life and liberty, Don Kirk man- aged to twist about till he could fasten his teeth in the back of Miles Darlton’s left hand, even while the other hand still clung at his throat. The owner of Double D gave a shout of astonishment and pain, and then his grasp on Don relaxed somewhat. Enough! In a flash, the boy gave another twist, broke free, hurled himself against Darlton’s stout body, and sent the rancher crashing up against the wall near the door. The whole house seemed to stagger a bit as the heavy body of the rancher struck the wall. Right above the man’s head the shaky shelf on which the lamp had been placed sud- denly gave way, and the lamp toppled over. There was a crash, a hoarse shout, a bright burst of flame! On the point of leaping from the room, Don saw what had happened, and stood aghast for the moment. ‘The lamp’s exploded !’’ screamed Garvice Seely. ‘‘Fire! fire! fire!’? Shrieking the word, he ran past Don, and out through the open door, bounding down the stairs. Miles Darlton’s clothes were on fire, and in vain the man tried to beat out the flame. In his agony he fell to the floor writhing at Don Kirk’s feet! An instant later the boy rancher leaped to the bed, from which he tore the blankets. With them outspread, he wheeled back and flung himself on the writhing rancher. Dis- playing an astonishing amount of strength and skill, he wrapped the blankets about the burning man, rolling him over and over, beating out little spots of fire with his bare hands. As it was, Darlton was severely burned, and Don did not escape, by any meuns. Both of the boy’s hands were scorched and blistered in many places, but he heeded that not a bit till he was certain the fire was quite out. Still Darlton squirmed and groaned, evi- dently suffering extreme pain from the frightful burns about his face and neck. It Made Don Kirk sick to think of the agony the man was enduring, even though the rancher was his open foe. Seely’s cries caused a stir below, and foot- Steps were soon heard on the stairs. For a while Don seemed to have forgotten ® was a captive, but the sound of those footsteps aroused him, and he half-started toward the door, only to halt, muttering: ““Too late! My chance is gone; I can’t 8et away now, for I would run straight into eir arms.”? Two cowboys came dashing in with buck- Sts of water, but the light that sifted down through the cracks of the ceiling was so aint that they could see nothing. ‘‘Where’s ther fire, pard?’? asked one, astonished. ‘Don’t see no fire, but I kin smell SMoke,’? declared the other. ehind them came Garvice Seely, with “Rother lamp, the light of which revealed © two figures on the floor. The Easterner Peered anxiously into the room, asking: a here’s Darlton? He was all afire. Is he ®ad?)> soe ne groaning man sat up, and from his pr ched and blistered face his fierce eyes ared out at Seely, as he retorted: pays Iam not dead, no thanks to you, s~U cowardly old hypocrite! You ran away bo eft me, and, if it hadn’t been for this Smeg we were abusing, I would have Panch 1) along with your wretched old angen he fell back on the floor to squirm 8roan again. CHAPTER XVIII. A VOICE IN THE DARKNESS. BSOLUTELY without thinking he Was doing anything of the kind, Don Kirk had performed a most heroic and noble deed, for he had saved the lifg ; @ : a of a man who was his open enemy, and who had, without doubt, been instru- mental in his ruffianly capture and confine- ment. He had done this at the sacrifice of an opportunity to follow Garvice Seely down the stairs, at which time, the East- erner being overcome with confusion and alarm, he might have escaped from the house. In the excitement, while Darlton was burning to death and the men were trying | to extinguish the fire and save the building, it is possible, even, that he might have ob- tained a fleet horse and avoided recapture. He had been tempted to leave Miles Darl- ton to his fate as Seely went shouting down the stairs, but the temptation lasted a mo- ment only. Then he caught up the blankets and smothered out the fire. The fierce words which the injured man hurled at Garvice Seely caused the oily rascal to blink and look horrified. ‘“«The poor fellow’s misfortune has turned his head,’’ said the Easterner, shaking his head rather mournfully. ‘‘I ran for water and assistance as soon as_ possible, and——’’ ‘‘While you were doing that I should have burned beyond recovery but for the boy,”’ came rather faintly from the man on the floor. ‘‘I don’t know but I’m cooked for good and allasitis. Why don’t you help me up—get me down stairs—put something onto these burns? Merciful Heaven! this is terrible!’ And he groaned again. ‘‘The boy——’’ began Seely. ‘ the darkened apartment of the old ) Canal street tavern. savage cry. ‘‘At ’em! dang ’em!’’ Jack’s weapon missed the head of the dark form shooting past him. Park, however, buried his knife in the man’s broad shoulder, tripped him, and dropped upon him, thereby doubtless saving himself from a bullet hastily fired by Tom Gaston. Nobody spoke. Had Gaston been given time to fire again, Park must certainly have been hit. He and his adversary vould be dimly seen by the starlight sifting in at the little window, and he formed an easy mark. Tom attempted the shot. A. swinging blow from Jack’s table-leg sent Gaston’s revolver into the farther end of the room, and the bullet was wasted, while the treacherous scoundrel was brought to his knees and toppled over. When Park rose from the limp body of his adversary, he felt for a certainty that the man was dead. Yet the excitement of the struggle took away all horror, and in its place was a fierce and savage satisfaction. The part played by Mrs. Raymond’s dog was remarkably intelligent. He seemed t0 understand the nature of the affair thor- oughly, and if the plucky little fellow had been allowed, he would doubtless have pul Tom Gaston beyond the power of further evil doing. ‘*Come—now’s our time!’’ Jack, seeing that Park was able to stand; grasped him by the hand and drew hi® down the stairs, calling the dog after them: ‘¢Are you hurt?’’ he asked. ‘No; are you?’’ ‘*No.?? ‘*That’s good !’’ In the lower hall they came upon Rita! **So you done for ’em, eh, Tom?’’ she &* claimed. She thought the two friends were her hu® band and his ally! d Jack thanked the good fortune that b@ caused her not to bring the little lamp the narrow passage. Park would be reasonably safe. fr ‘‘Hush!?’? warned Jack, in Park’s a ‘‘Not a word on your life, if we are to away !”’ ti: Jack tested the door leading to the stree ‘I fix that,’’ cried Rita. ‘‘Nobody ©” in dare!’’ ut ‘‘Confound it!’ the young sailor ™ tered, beneath bis breath, elf Her ‘‘fixing it’? meant that it was secu? locked and bolted above and below. A A streak of lamp-light shone on the ® beneath the door leading into the bar-T0y Supposing the room to still be ope, © ays at the bar, Jack threw the door ope® pind jerked Park into the long, foul-sm@ apartment. e. They dashed toward the front entrane" jp The doors were closed and the shutté fellow?’’ Park asked, with earnest solicitude. | worse than you are likely to suppose them to be. They——’”’ his pocket as he replied: shia! ?? Jack thrust Nell Raymond’s letter into. One of the lights only remained } Rita had acted craftily. ip ro" Mrs. Raymond had outwitted her 7 ‘At the young devils!’’ was his Once out of this hole, he felt that he aud the chance of there being a few custO™ ad © place! purnins j : GoOoD NEWS. 4215 . gard to the secret told in the precious paper which Jack Ferdham had so fortunately found; but the wily woman was bound that Jack and Park should never escape from the Canal street rookery alive, to be benefited by the valuable paper of the deceased actress. ‘‘Park, we’re like rats in atrap!’’ said Jack, as he looked about them desperately. Then he received such a surprise that he was too startled to make any especial effort to bring about their escape. The cause of his astonishment was the sight of a person at the end of the bar—Dick Stanhope! Dick was pale as death. He leaned against one of the joists of the room, as though for support, and stared at Jack even harder than the young sailor stared at him. Park looked at the two in bewilderment. Then he recognized Dick as the youth Jack had pitched into the Erie Basin at the time when he made his friend’s acquaint- ance. He smiled involuntarily at the thought of the scene at the water’s edge; but he could not imagine why fate had brought the three of them all together again in this old rookery. Recovering from his astonishment at the sight of Dick Stanhope in the saloon, Jack sent his weapon crashing through the glass in the front window. ‘*Police!’” he called through the opening. He then wheeled about with his back to the barred doors, pulling Park into a posi- tion by his side. _And, though this was all done in a few. seconds, after the two chums dashed into the old bar-room, it was done none too soon. The two young sailors had hardly turned at bay before Rita appeared from the back hall in a frenzy of venomous rage. ‘‘It was you, hey?’’ she cried, huskily. “Tom !?? Both friends drew back involuntarily be- fore her glittering eyes. Dick Stanhope regarded her with a still more disturbed look than his features had borne before. She was behind the bar in an instant, seeking the revolver invariably kept there; but\ she started back with a cry of disap- pointment. The weapon had been removed by Tom Gaston, doubtless for use up stairs. The key had been taken from the heavy lock on the bar-room doors. ‘We've got to get out by the side door!”’ Jack whispered in Park’s ear. ‘‘Come!’? He sprang toward the rear hallway again Park at his side, only to be confronted by Tom Greer and Hi Sutton! So Sutton was the man who had attacked them in the little room up stairs! The sailor’s face and beard were bloody from the slashes Park had inflicted upon him jin the tussle; yet he was easily recog- nizable by Jack, though the young officer had hardly imagined that Gaston would allow him to hide in the old tavern. “Thought you’d got away? Well, you daven’t!?? Up came Tom Gaston’s cocked revolver! Dick Stanhope, too, now drew a decorated, pearl-stocked weapon from his breast pocket. Jack and Park were so startled that they Stood still, marks for the leveled weapons. But, just at this point of the situation, all present were startled by a heavy pounding Upon the near-by side door! Each one of those present listened to the terrific jars given the thick paneling. Jack and Park’s hearts were set beating Uriously with new-born hopes. ‘The police!’’ cried some one, in trem- ulons alarm. How welcome the cry sounded to Jack and ark’s ears! The police! That meant deliverance! lere came the crash of the door being °reed in from its fastenings! It had yielded ike pasteboard ! th Next the door from the hallway was Town open, and a tall man sprang into ® dimly-lighted bar-room. hie ut this man was not an officer! & Civilian! he hearts of Jack and Park sank again. bei 16 nhew-comer was a strange-a pearing red 8 seeming almost satanic in the dark- sing oak or blanket which hung from his feat”. Shoulders, and the dark, coppery ures which the lamp-light revealed. 7/8 yes shone like living coals. ; Bras, roried a long deer knife bared in his What had brought this strange man here? hin, ck Ferdham and Park Owen recognized Indi Instantly as the mysterious Canadian 20 who had come on board the Milkmaid €r trip down the lakes! (TO BE CONTINUED.) —~_ 2 eo. IN DESPAIR. Nor was T litthe as on a Sunday afternoon, and the Seati;, had just come home from church. burst ng himself in the chimney corner, he Minney crying, and would not eat his Ww b a4 es askey iat are you crying for, my boy?’’ copy his father. born ic Minister’s text was ‘Ye must be A gal ae and I am afraid that I shall be Youngster time,’’? replied the precocious GOING TO SEA; OR, MY VOYAGE TO SOUTH AMERICA. setae eesti BY ROBERT OVERTON,. —_¢——— is a large farmer in New Hampshire, and a little more than twelve months ago, during vacation, I had formed a very special and particular wish, which might have been divided into two parts. First, I didn*t want to go back to school | eS 5 , AM now sixteen years old. My father i \Ss> at all. In the second place, I wanted to go to sea. Hwery boy does at some time or an- | other. The wish is like the measles—you’re | bound to have it. Only, like the measles again, some boys have it worse than others. In my case, the attack was a very bad one, indeed. I could think of nothing but splicing ropes, and taking in reefs, and shivering timbers, and saying, ‘‘Ay, ay, sir,’’? and bounding over the rolling seas. I pictured myself in lovely dark-blue uniform, with gold but- tons, and with gold lace round my hat. I practiced hitching up my trousers, and tried to walk with a nautical roll of the body, as though I were so accustomed to the roll of the ocean that I couldn’t walk straight. I once went so far as to chew a piece of tobacco, Never again, sea or no sea! No more ’baccy for me. I thought I should never have any control over my own stomach again. Of course, the first thing was to speak to father. When I told him I didn’t want to go back to school, but wished to begin life at once on my own account, he looked both amazed and amused. When I insisted that I wanted to go to sea, and begged him to send me on board a ship, he looked very serious. He made the usual remarks about a sailor’s life, and argued with me, and tried to talk me out of the idea I had formed; but he failed. Then he put mother and my sisters on to me, and they did their best. They came nearer being successful than he did, but in the end they, too, failed. At last father went to Portsmouth to con- sult an old retired sea captain, who lived there, and was anold friend of father’s. When told about my determination to go to sea, Captain Quarters said: ‘*Tell him that if I had a dog, and the dog came to me and said he was going to sea, I’d drown him to save him from a life of such misery.’’ There was no getting over the fact that this was discouraging. . When father tri- umphantly poiited out that old Quarters knew what he was talking about, I wavered. But in the result, I stuck to my point, though I wavered once more when father tried on the bribing dodge. ‘ +—>___--——-_ HIS CHEERFUL VIEW. Two men who had been sitting together in the seat near the door of a car on one of the railways, became engaged in an animated controversy, and their loud voices attracted the attention of all the other passengers. Suddenly one of them rose and said: ‘(Ladies and gentlemen, I appeal to you to decide a disputed point. My friend here insists that not more than three persons out of five believe they have souls. I takea more cheerful view of humanity than that. Will all of you who believe you have souls raise your tight hands?’’ Every right band in the car went up. ‘‘Thank you,’’ he said, with a smile. ‘‘Keep them up just a moment. Now, will all of you who believe in a hereafter please raise your left hands also?’’ Every left hand in the car went up. ‘Thank you again,’’ he said. ‘‘Now, while all of you have your hands raised,’’ he con- tinued, drawing a pair of revolvers and leveling them, ‘‘my friend here will go down the aisle and relieve you of whatever valuables you “may happen to have. Lively now, Jim.”’ ——> +~<._—_____— THE BOY’S LESSON. A schoolmaster gave his boys the sen- tence: ‘Enough is as good as a feast.’’ Some time after he had occasion to thrash one of the boys. After the second stroke the boy walked to his place without being told to do so. The master got very angry, and asked the boy what he meant by it. The boy replied, very simply : ‘Please, sir, you told us this morning that ‘Enough is as good as a feast,’ and I have had quite enough.’’ The master smiled, and sent the boy to his place. Desertion | oe ene ey a ct gon ee ceg 3 ree eg int Ser A nage wipe siete ES ISSUED WEEKLY. rhs NEW YORK, MAY 26, 1895. Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE FREE.) 3months - - - - - 65c.| One Year - - - - - $2.50 4months - - - - - 85c,|2copies,one year- - 4.00 6months - - - -. - $1.25! Lcopy. two yea ~ -. 4.00 Goop Nuws AnD N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50 How 'ro Send Monry.—By post-oflice or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our *. At your own risk, if sent by postal note, currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. tENEWALS.— The number indicated on your address label denotes when your subscription expires. All subscriptions will be stopped promptly at expiration of time paid for. Recriprs.—leceipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not cor rect you have not been properly credited, and should let us Know at once. To CLuB Ratsers.—Upon request we will send sam- ple copies to aia you in obtaining subscribers. 4GENTS.—Our responsibility for remittances applies oily to such as are sent to us direct, and we will not gnarantee the reliability of any subscription agency cr postinaster. All letters should be addressed to STREET & S\LITEH’S GOOD NEWS, 27 & 29 RoseStreet, N.Y. Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not haye them please send direct to this oflice and we will supply them by mail on receipt of price. Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line. Contents of this Number. SERIAL STORIES. “The Copper Disk,” by Enrique H. Lewis. “Jungles and Traitors,” by William Mur- ray Graydon. “The Boy Cattle King,’ by Harry Danger- field. “A Footlight Favorite,” by Manager Henry Abbot. “Jack Ferdham, Second Mate,” by Clarence Converse. “Little Snap,,” by Victor St. Clair. “Fresh Frank,” by **Joe.”? SHORT STORIES. ‘A Ludicrous Adventure,” Clarke. “Going to Sea,” by Robert Overton. “The Czar’s Wolf-Hounds.”’ “The Accident at the Foundry.” “A Ohampion at Foot-Ball,” by L. D. Ab- bott. “A Terrible Fright,” by A. J. Daniels. REGULAR DEPARTMENTS. “Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur Sewall, ‘*How to Do Things,” by David Parks. “Mail Bag,” “xchange Department,’ “Club Notices,” etc. by Henry NEXT WEEK. a The Great Napoleon Story, LOYAL TO NAPOLEON: OR, THE YOUNG SPY OF FOUCHE. BY ALFRED ARMITAGE, Author of “With Crusader and Saracen” and “In the Days of the Gladiators.” Rh tre NA ey es ads A first-rate Circus Story. Look out for it, boys! —_——__>_ +> ___ WANTED HIS WATCH. Absent-minded Business Man (to office boy)—‘‘William, go up to my house and tell Mrs. Briggs I have forgotten my watch. Bring it back with you.”’ He pulls out his watch and continues: “‘Now, William, it is nine o’clock; you should be back at ten.’’ ——_ 2 0 Philanthropic Old Gent—‘‘Here, my little man, here’s a nickel for you. His Little Man—‘‘Toss yer double or quits—whether yer makes it ten cents or keeps it.’’ ,| THE CZAR’S WOLF-HOUNDS. | 4 AR 4 cf a OLVES in Russia are numerous, ww ess ay ies WAY. bold, and, during severe winters, Oe PR Gry = AN exceedingly destructive of stock. W ITH af HE ‘B OYS tikes ae bender att ealectn Aue é £ hep i4-lie ator¢ oO se 5 } ley, é 5 > | Most of ‘them stand about thirty-three | physical examination, going to a preparatory inches high, with rough, shaggy coats of | «> advise me, to the best of your ability, through your ‘Short Talks’ with boys? Ain 17 years BRAINS. old; an orphan. Would like to know what ——— chance I can get of getting a position at some ‘*My boy,’’ said the sage, ‘‘alwavs re-|seaor river port, todo light work of any de- member that brains will tell.’’ f scription aboard of a vessel; anything, in “J differ with you,’? said the boy. order to get a start at that business. Is the dé hone os cabin-boy a thing of the past, or would it be Brains won’t tell. If brains told, all the possible for me to obtain such a position? I Ce bra a ee the secret, and brains | cannot do heavy work.” wouldn’t be worth a rap. For abo ho 4 hvsical j a ; Sa y who is physically unable to do este glow boy showed himself wise1 hard work, a life on board of an ocean, going vessel on a river steamboat is abso- rit we west Te lutely out of the question. The cabin-boy When a Chinese lady comes to a muddy |of a sailing craft is called upon to do all place-in the road she gets over it by em-|kinds of menial labor, and his tasks are ploying.a human stepping-stone. She beck-| never finished. He is the personal body- ons a boy, to whom she gives a small coin, | servant of the captain and mates, and as a and in return he drops on his hands and| rule, receives ‘‘more kicks than ha’ pence’’ knees in the mud for her to step over. ‘for his reward. His sleeping quarters are of the worst kind, and for food he generally receives the ‘‘leavings.”’ In past years it was customary for seamen to begin their apprenticeship as cabin boys, and .many a sturdy old sea-captain still living remembers with wry face the wretched days spent as ‘‘you boy’’ on the after decks of a clipper ship. Nowadays, apprentices are taken on board vessels of all nations. They live forward, study seamanship at first hand, and grad- ually work their way to better positions, passing in turn through the billets of ordi- nary seamen, able seamen, boatswain, 128 pounds; height, 6 feet 5 inches. I am at| second mate, first mate and finally skipper. The poor cabin-boy remains where he commenced, or possibly graduates as cook or steward. River steamers and also ocean-going steamships employ a corps of boys and men eircumstances, aithough he is willing I should | called ‘‘saloon boys’? or ‘‘berth makers.’’ As the name implies, they attend to the $12 per month; or go to school and my father | state-rooms, wait at table, and do various |tasks of a like nature. The work is not laborious, but it is by no means pleasant. The majority of river craft employ negroes We advise you by all means to keep on} only. You would find the life very different from the rosy career you probably antici- pate. Better learn some good easy trade, or turn your thoughts to a profession. SpecraL Noticre.—Many communications, improperly addressed to this department, are answered in the ‘‘ Mail Bag,’ a Going to School in Turkey. the domestic life of a people is the greater is the publicity given to all ceremonies connected with family events. This is particularly noticeable in Turkey, where all the neighborhood is called upon to witness the observances, both re- ligious and secular, with which such inci- dents of family life as birth, marriage, and death, are attended. At some of the mosque schools each child receives two full suits of clothes every year, one for summer, and one for winter. In the secondary schools, which are under. the Government, the pupils are not only lodged, fed and taught, but receive also a pension in money. With these tempting prospects before him, little Achmet or Selim, when his fond parents have decided that he is old enough to begin his education, is not, like many of our own urchins, seen ‘‘creeping like a snail unwillingly to school.’’ Dressed in his holiday suit, and bedecked with all the jewels and personal ornaments which his parents possess, or are able to borrow for the occasion, on his head a velvet fez, almost covered with strings of sequina, gold pendants and pearl tassels, he is mounted on a_ superbly-comparisoned horse, and led in pompous _ procession through the streets in the neighborhood of the school. Before him his future instructors walk backward, slowly and gravely, as if to pro- long the ceremony. Behind him, on a cushion, is carried the Koran—to know which holy book by heart entitles a youth or maiden to the honorable title of Hafiz— the little folding book-stand, incrusted with mother of-pearl, for holding the sacred vol- ume, and his chanta, or writing-case, em- broidered with stars and crescents in gold thread. All his future schoolfellows follow, two by two, chanting verses, attributed to. the prophet, inciting to the love of learning, to brotherly kindness, industry and tolerance, and concluding with good wishes for their new companion, praises of his parents and teachers, and finally glorification of the sultan. The masters beat time with a long wand, with which they also give the signal at the end of each verse for the solemn refrain of Amin from the chorus, in which the specta- tors join. Ov returning to the paternal roof a dis- tribution of small coins is made to all thé beggars and other poor people collected round the gateway; for, in the East, th® poor always come in for their share of th® rejoicings of their brethren more favored by fortune. C5 EN ie is remarkable that the more secluded a Om WHY HE WAS SILENT. A physician describes a remarkable casé of a patient’s confidence in his medical adviser; When I was a student in the hospital I ba a patient, an Irishman, with a broken leg; When the plaster bandage was removed, 42 t a lighter one put in its place, I noticed thé one of the pins went in with great difficulty: and I could not understand it. i A week afterward, on removing this Pp! I found it had stuck hard and fast, and was forced to remove it with the forcePy What was my astonishment in making o examination to find thatthe pin had beer ron through the skin twice instead through the cloth. pat ‘‘Why, Pat,’’ said, ‘‘I didn’t you know pin was sticking in you?’’ tl ‘“To be sure I did,’’ replied Pat. ‘Bett thought you knowed your business, s0 I me tongue.’’ ' s a Sone . — a A aa aT, ey F4 n ” sd 16 1 ly in e- id th th »1- n- id by — i eaenenEEENE aa SS GooDpD [This Story Wil) Not be JUNGLES AN Published in Book-Form, | D TRAITORS: OR, THE WILD ANIMAL TRAPPERS OF INDIA. BY WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON, Author of “The While King of A frica, |“ JUNGLES AND TRAITORS” “The Camp in the Snow,” was commenced in No. 261. “Fyrom Lake to Wilderness,” ete. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. ] CHAPTER X. AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY, MHE shrill cries of the two Hindoos tHe rang fora brief instant in Marco’s + } ears. Then, from behind, he was — struck like a catapult by the tough snout of the rhinoceros. Luckily, the sharp horn did not touch him. He rose dizzily from the clogging earth, described a semicircle, and He was stunned and landed on hands | and knees a few feet clear of the pit’s edge. | | broad. The dusky glow that precedes the | twilight was just fading from the opposite bank. Still goaded by fear, the quadruped scarcely slackened its speed. It splashed and | crunched across the stream, now belly deep, now submerged so far that Marco’s hands and feet were under water! In mid-channel was a bit of an island—a mere mud-bank—that gave existence: to an eddy off its lower end. Here the opposing currents had scooped out the bottom. bruised, but otherwise uninjured. He staggered to his feet, and looked back. Just then the rhi- hnoceros, by a tremen- dous effort, surmounted the crumbling side of the pit. Marco did not: have his full wits about him. He was still too dazed to take advantage of the Slim chance of that now offered. Instead of doubling to tight or left, he dashed Straight forward, with the vicious brute in hot pursuit. He felt its warm, steaming breath; he heard its puffing Snorts, and the clumsy trample of its hoofs, Like a flash he saw the limb of a tree droop- ing over the path just ahead: This was his last chance, and in despera tion he leaped high and grabbed at it. He made & slight miscalculation, and secured a weak hold With his finger-tips. For a fraction of a Second he swung in air. Then he was suddenly lifted upward, and Wrenched by an irresist- ible force from his frail Support. At first ho was dazed and half-blinded. The Sated atmosphere flew by him. There was a Warm, hard substance Under him, and when he threw his hands out in fright at the swaying Motion, they clutched Something rough and Wrinkled. He heard Vaguely a husky shout ar in the rear. . All at once he real- Zed thé truth. The rhi- Noceros had swept him Off the limb, and now, Perched on the animal’s ack, he was whirling through the jungle. It Was, indeed, a unique Situation, and one that ©ontained a grave ele- Ment of peril. Still, it Was better than being at ihe mercy of tha brute’s escape | iil Just as the rhinoceros came to the verge | NEw Ss. 4517 and dripping wet, on sand. Vaguely he heard confused sounds in the distance—in what direction he could not tell. | him? Patter! patter ! | From the | twilight, cantered, by twos and threes, a squad of English cavalry. The thud of hoofs and jingle of accouter- ments was all around Marco before he knew what it meant. Then he sprang Jingle! jingle! the narrow strip of | torch-light | of the | Did some new and terrible danger threaten | | bility the better. flashing on horses and riders, gleaming into the depths of the jungle. He heard and understood the conversation troopers. He listened intently, and relaxed his attitude so as to feign insensi- ror a moment his brain | was very busy. black jungle into the dusk of | | rest | want me, too. to his feet with a shrill | cry, and went down as quickly under the | hoofs of the foremost horse. ‘‘Halt!’?’ rang out Captain voice. ‘Back, men, back.’’ The officer dropped quickly from the sad dle, and took Marco in his arms. Others gathered around, amazed and curious. ‘*An English lad!’’ exclaimed one. | ‘‘And soaking wet and wunconscious,”’ added another. ‘‘There is some here.’’ Clemson’s ‘ +—>___—_-— WHAT SPOT? Irate Parent (who has been trying to satisfy John’s curiosity ede ae subject under the sun)—‘‘Now, Johnnie, if you ask me another question 1’ll whip you on the spot!’’ Johnnie (whose undying curiosity over- comes even the dread of punishment)— ‘‘Wh-wh-what spot, papa?’’ have progressed in physics and literature. The latter is the study of a life-time. 17. Your plan of teaching school and reading law at the same time is an excel- lent one. : A. D. C., Medford, Mass.—To paint glass slides for magic lanterns, draw on a paper the size of the glass the subject you mean to paint. Fasten this at each end of the glass with paste, or any cement, to prevent it from slipping. Then with some very black paint, mixed with varnish, draw with a fine camel’s hair pencil very lightly the outlines sketched on the paper | which are reflected on the glass. Some persons affirm that these outlines can be traced with Japan writing- ink and a pen with a fine nib; but this, even ifit suc- ceeds in making a delicate outline, is likely to be effaced by damp or wet. It would add to the natural resemblance if the outlines were drawn with a strong tint of each of the natural colors of the object; but in this respect the artist must please his fancy. When the outlines are dry, color and shade your figures ; but observe to temper your colors with strong white var- nish. The best colors are transparent ones. The fol- lowing are in most repute: Lake or carmine, Prus- sian blue, calcined verdigris, gamboge, etc. L. D. M., Washington, D. C.—To make an indelible ink: Take 1% drachms of nitrate of silver, 1 ounce of distilled water, 44 ounce of strong mucilage of gum-arabic, &% of a drachm of liquid ammonia. Mix the above in a clean glass bottle, cork tightly, and keep in a dark place till dissolved, and ever afterward. When you desire to use, shake the bottle, then dip a clean quill pen in the ink, and write or draw what you require on the article ; immediately hold it close to the fire (without scorching) and it will become a deep black. J. G., Portland, Oregon.—l. The authors named have written only short stories for Goop News. 2. Some of the stories in volume 7 are ‘‘From Lake to Wilderness,” “‘The King of the Island,’ “‘The Young Stone-Cutter,”, “Ensign Merrill,” “Glim Peters,” and “Camera Bob.” 3. There are some serious objections to the plan, but your selection of your favorite authors shows much discernment on your part. 4. Only a very few. Constant Reader, Union City, Tenn.—1. Volume 1 is out of print, and we have only a few of volume 2 left. You could probably dispose of them through the Ex- change Department. 2. The vessels of Uncle Sam’s navy stationed in Europe are the Chicago and the San Francisco. 3 Attached to the Pacific Station are Philadelphia, Monterey, Bennington, Adams, Alert, Mohican, and Ranger. E L. C. U., Camden, Me.—To trap rabbits, take brass wire and make a noose large enough for them to put their heads through ; then trim a small tree near their path, fasten the wire to the top, bend over and fasten by a notch to a peg driven in the ground ;. then make a fence of fine brush a little across their path, leaving a hole to hang the wire in A. M. R., Evanston, Ill.—1. The pay of a first lieu- tenant in the United States Army, for the first five years of service is $1,500a-year. 2. It is anything but easy to rise from the ranks. 3. Illinois isin the ‘“De- partment of the Missouri.’’ 4. There are recruiting Offices in Chicago. The Boy Cattle King, Chicago, Ill.—l. We know nothing of the business standing of the concerns you mention. 2. Not at present. 3. Heis areal person, but the name is assumed. 4. Your handwriting is good. C.S. B., Jr., Poughkeepsie, N. Y.—1. We send the volumes post-paid. 2. You can obtain volumes 7 and 8 for 85 cents apiece by writing to this office. 3. Write to Porter & Coates, Philadelphia, for catalogue. Cackey, Kansas City, Mo.—We are sorry, but we have all the material of the sort that we can possibly use. When writing for publication, always write on one side of the sheet only. E.S., Lincoln, Neb.—1. The copper cent of 1823 is worth 12 cents. There is no premium on the other coins mentioned. 2. Apply to some coin or stamp- dealer. . L. J. T., Paterson, N, J—The total number of battles fought during the war between the North and South is said to be 252, of which 17 were naval engagements, T. G, F., Little Rock; Ark.—1l. There isno premium on a half-dollar of 1827. 2. England has nearly 600 war vessels, and Spain about 325. E. 8., Philadelphia, Pa.—Volume one is entirely out of print. You can obtain the other volumes at this office for eighty-five cents apiece. N. J. C., Cincinnati, Ohio.—Lieutenant Lounsberry has written several West Point stories forGoonp NEWS. “Cadet Carey’ was the first one. Nemo, Boston, Mass.—The first steamship to cross the Atlantic was the Savannah, in 1819. The passage took twenty-five days. W. H., Omaha, Neb.—We think you must be_mis- taken about your violin being a Stradivarius. If so, it is almost priceless. Harl, Concord, Mass.— Alfred Armitage’s stories are true to history, and absolutely correct pictures of the times depicted. ' A. P. G., Meriden, Conn.—“Cans’t thou not minis- ter to a mind diseased,” you will find in the fifth act of ‘“Macbeth.” I. Me., Minneapolis, Minn.—1. Not at present. 2. Nick Carter. 3. New ‘York. 4. No, that would not be possible. F. W., Denver, Col.—We have in contemplation the two stories you desire. a (Several communications left over to be answered next week, } < Se CATSE 3 rN WO fA) EY 5 PSE BPA SOS SN ; , CODIGSRRAAS B59 HOF (ee OR; < Sf oo Es «“ Sy FUN ALIVE ON OLIVE STREET. By “TOH,” Author of “Jolly Jerry.’’ CHAPTER IIT. FRANK FINDS WORK. Frank ventured forth. There was nothing left to tell the tale, save the splinters of the former signs lying here and there. The street was unusually quiet, and not a face was to be seen at any of the shop doors. Perhaps the weight of disgrace rested heavily upon every head, and kept them in hiding. Frank had scraped acquaintance with most of the shopkeepers during the two weeks he had been living on the block. He dropped into the shop of Sommer- garten, the butcher. The Teuton had a sad look upon his face, and was still muttering to himself as he went about his work. Frank entered in his quiet, respectful manner, and said nothing until he was ob- served, when Sommergarten asked him, with accustomed business | politeness, what he would have. ‘“‘T don’t want anything, sir,’’ said Frank; “‘T merely stopped in. Wasn’t it awful, Mr. Sommergarten?’’ ‘““You vas a goot poy, my lad, und I likes to have you shtop in,’’ responded the butcher. ‘‘Yaw, id vas awful, you are yust righdt id vas. Any mans vat could done a trick like dot, vas too goot to peen hanged, dot’s vat I say apout id.’? ‘‘Yes, that’s what I say, too,’’ agreed Frank. ‘‘But, Mr. Sommergarten, you are mistaken when you say lam a good boy. There’s not much good in me, and I like to be honest, and tell you so. You don’t know of anybody wants to hire a bad boy, do you??’ ‘You a pad poy! Py cripps! I vish ve had some more pad poys yust like you, dot’s all. I hafe had mine eye on you since you live here, my lad.’’ ‘*Ts that so?’’ ‘*Yaw, dot is yust so. You vas meek unt shentle, unt you don’dt shvear unt shmoke like some of der poys.”’ ‘Well, you are right there, Mr. Sommer- garten; I don’t smoke nor swear, but I am no angel all the same. .My own folks say so, and I guess they ought to know.”’ ‘‘Vell, vell, id vas all righdt, I guess. But, you vas looking vor a chob?’? ‘“Yes; Ihave to work when I can get work,’’ ‘‘How would you like to vork for me?”’ ‘*FWirst-rate.’’ ‘‘Vell, Ineed a poy, unt f guess you are yust apoudt der kindt of a poy I need. Vhen can you come?”’ ‘*]?’m here now.’’ ‘*T means to vork.’’ ‘| Te r W074 aii 4 Nay STE Le ay — = 7p 2, 4 —__ | ys useful. It teaches Coaching, Reach, Finish, Feather, Recovery, Grasp, Use of the Legs, Sliding Seats, Sculling, etc. The book is illus- trated, and will be sent, postpaid, to any address on receipt of 10 cents. Address, MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose St., New York. CARD PRINTER FREE Sets any name in one minute; prints 500.cards an hour. YOU can make money with it. A fontot pretty type, also Indelible Ink, Type Holder, Pads and Tweezers. Best Linen Marker : worth $1.00. Sample mailed FREE for 10c. stamps for postage on outfit and large catalogue of1000 Bargains. R.H. Ingersoll & Bro, 65 Cortlandt St. N.Y, Cit Mention Good News. ; Amateur’s Manual of Photography, S. & S. MANUAL LIBRARY, No. 6. PRICE, 10 CENTS. A hand-book of practical instructionsin the art of dry-plate photography. Itisa complete guide to this fascinating art: Fully illustrated. Tells from how a camera is made to the finish of a first-class picture Photography is a clean, light. and pleasant occupation, suitable for any young lady or gentleman, and within the reach of all. For sale by all Newsdealers, or will be sent, postpaid upon receipt of price, ten cents, by the publishers. MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose Street, N.Y. PIER ag ig Reon FMM apaT coll NOS AG Ea Se ee Good News Binder Price 50 Cents. Answers the purpose of a bound volume. Holding fifty-two copies comfortably. It is, without doubt, the finest binder ever offered even for double the price we ask, and is indispens- able to those who are keeping their papers, as it notonly preserves GOOD NEws for future reference, and from being lost, but keeps them clean, and in good order. Itis both useful and ornamental. It has a durable black embossed cover with flexible back, and a gold stamp title on the outside cover, It opens flatas any book, and each week’s paper can be inserted as soon as received. Full directions for inserting the paper accompany each binder. We will send the GooD NEws binder, and a pack- supply a long felt want. The games introduced, F while well known, are elaborated, and many new he | features introduced, which makes them more inter- age of binder pins, postpaid, to any address on re- ceiptof 50 cents. Mention Good News. ‘‘ All right, uncle, you are the doctor.’’ “Vat! Vat’s dot?”’ of TEN CENTS, Address MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose Street, New York. postage prepaid. The numbers we have selected are No. 223 to No. 232, inclusive (no others). Address Subscription Department, Goop NEws, 29 Rose st., N. Y. PUZZLE PURSE. A first-class morocco purse with nickelframe Jim and clasp. Can’t be opened without the secret; worth 25c. as a purse and $5.00 as a “brain cracker.’? As sample of our 1000 Bargains we mail it postpaid with large Catalogue for 10¢. INGERSOLL & BRO. GS CORTLANDT ST. WN Y. GIT Mention Good News. Y, @ . QUT-DOOR SPORTS. : S. & S. Manual Library No. 7. Price, 10 Cents. t A book of instruction for playing many of the ; most popular out-of-door games. A book that will y esting and less likely to become stale. Illustrates | games with and without toys,for the city or country. For sale by all newsdealers, or will be sent, post- | paid, upon receipt of price, 10c., by the publishers, MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose Street,N.Y. PUZZLE PENKNIFE,10c. & Best steel i Blade cone a oe = cealedi ke * Sc, asa knife and $5.00 ag Zn R Ea: ens. Worth 2: elhandle, Press the button and it op apuzzle. Asample of our 1000 Bargains, mailed postpaid with Cat. for 10¢, ROBT. H, INGERSOLL & BRO, 65 CORTLANDT ST, N. Y, CITY, Mention Good News. This cut is the exact size and style of .the a GOOD NEWS Club Badge. | The badge is made of a , high grade of German |} Silver; artistic in design and something every j reader will be proud to wear. Any reader send- ing us 10 centsin stamps or silver will receive a \ badge. At Electrotypes for print- ing the badge on letter heads, cards, etc., will be : sent post-paid on receipt Pa of twenty-five cents. : Ten cents is all that is required to secure this 1 handsome badge. Address GooD Nkrws Corre : sponding Club, 29 Rose street, New York. The Young Gymnast. ‘ ) al s : S. &S. Manual Library No.9. Price 10c. A perfect instructor for the amateur and professional gymnasium, and of incalculable value to any one who wishes to become a gymnast. Profusely illustrated. Explains the mode of training, treatment of accidents, ee pieoboa exercises of the arms, |umb-bells, Indian clubs, trapeze, horizontal bar, an! all sorts of tricks and feats of gymnastics. For sale by all newsdealers, or sent post paid, upon receipt of price, 10 cents, by the publishers, 4 MANUAL LIBRARY, 29 Rose Street, New York. i BOUND VOLUMES OF GOOD F NEWS. We have issued volumes two, three, four, five and six, bound in an attrac- tive heavy paper cover. ‘Cwenty-six numbers constitute a volume. *The papers are cut and trimmed aud bound with as much care as an expensive cloth binding, and the prices are Vols. 2 and 3, $1 Each. Vols. 4, 5 and 6, 85e. Each. These volumes contain serial stories by Edward 8, Ellis, Horatio Alger, Jas, Otis, Edward Stratemeyer, Harry Castlemon, Wm. Murray Graydon, Walter Morris, Oliver Optic, W. B. Lawson, Lieut. Lounsberry, And others equally well known, Address Subscription Department GOOD NEWS, 29 Rose street, New York. Volume One out of print. £3 O AT HOW TO MODEL, SAIL n AND BUILD A BOAT. Everything relating to boats is fully illustrated and explained in plain terms with an ayoid- o ance of technical words. Complete chap- ters on modeling a boat, ship building, rigging of ship,etc, Among the illus e o trations will be found: model for 0 deck of cutter, diagram of forms oe Ts of boat, form of stern, model a Mery MS of schooner, sheer plan of - DRS ship, half breadth plan, PN Ss body plan, the keel- f Hie 2/4 son, planking, cat- ? h head, knotsand splices, step- A Ql ping a mast, A ? ¢ etc. 4 (4 e = J , Loreencceto Water Line. $ { Len ; t v4 SO er ee ra i of, lnehee ‘ This valuable book, entitled Boys’ Own Book. of Boats, will be sent postpaid to any ad- 1 c Address MANUAL LIBRAR vk 4 dress on receipt of price, s 29 Rose St., New YOre Be sure to use **Mirs. Winslow 5 Soothing Syrup” for your child while Teething. 25 centsa bot” ONE CENT EACH Ore ey