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Kutered According to Aet of Congress, in the Year 1896, by Stre & Smith, in the Office of the ' rhetaddion of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Entered as Second-class Matter "a the New York, N.Y., Post-Office.

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Vol. 12. we Ree erase” > Row Won New York, January 25, 1896. are tae No. 299.

     

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‘*YOU, BRAVE, NOBLE BOY!’’ CRIED THE TEACHER, CLASPING NICK IN HER ARMS.

THE SON OF OLD NICK;

OR,

THE CHARCOAL BURNER OF THE NARROWS.

 

BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR,
Author of Slack- Wire Zip,” “Little Snap. the Post-Boy of the Kanawha,” ‘Little Hickory of the Moun-

tain Express,” *‘Zig-Zayg, the Boy Conjurer,” “The Young stone-Cutter,” etc.
CHAPTER I. | we get there, and I am as hungry as a

A DISCOVERY RESULTING IN A STARTLING

r.
MISHAP, The speakers were two pupils of Miss Ada

Spencer’s school at what was called the
TELL vou, Virg, it leads somewhere.’? | ‘‘ Narrows District,’’ situated at the western
NEES EE SoS a CAPM. ere eo he Bf “Then follow it if you want to, Vast | extremity of a country town in northern
NDI} AT HE WAS STILL SEVERAL FEET ABOVE THE SHELF, UNCLASPED Sterns. J am going back to the picnic. | New England. The occasion was a half-day’s
HIS FEET A_/D HUNG SUSPENDED IN MID-AIR. => If it isn’t lunch time, it will be before! outing or picnic of Miss Spencer and her

 
4770

°°

250 Y COTS EG

GroOoOD

CAI ON.

é

TEIIRTY BICYCLES GIivEen AWAY!

—_——2o———

To the thirty readers sending us the largest number
of these coupons, which will be printed in Goop NEws
every week beginning with No. 296 and ending with
No. 307, we will give a high grade bicycle, first-class in

every respect.

Save all the coupons you can get hold of, and send

 

Tea to us in a bunch after No. 307 is published. é

 

 

scholars in that rugged locality known in
local geography as Blake’s Hill.

This is a picturesque region, with a sur-
rounding scenery noted far and wide for its
beauty and variety of landscape. Looking
southward, the beholder gazes on a far-
reaching vision of hills, variegated with
patches of forests and green pastures, val-
lays teeming with the products of the hus-
bandmen’s watchful care, farm-houses here
and there lending an appearance of human
life to the scene. Upon the left, near at
hand, Old Brokenback mountain cuts off the
view, though around the, abrupt angle
formed by its left shoulder the gazer catches
a glimpse of the red monarch, Chief Paw-
tuckaway (great deer place, according to
Indian folk lore), looking like a stern-
browed sentinel on duty. To the right, in
the background, a long backbone of hills
forms a rugged frame for the beautiful
valley of Sunny River, which in turn makes
a fit setting for those crystal gems of nature,
Silver and Sunny Ponds. Let the beholder
of this pecs display of Nature’s wealth
now look northward, and he sees the handi-
work of man in the thriving little hamlet of
the Narrows, where converging from as
many points five roads meet, appearing in
the distance like silvery threads banding
hills and valleys.

Between the Narrows and the picnic

grounds, though no signs of human habita-

tions are in sight, dense volumes of black
smoke rise sluggishly above the tree-tops,
and then asif bent upon casting a blur on
the beautiful autumnal scene settle gloomily
back upon the earth.

This smoke cloud, which refuses to clear
away, marks the one desolating feature of
the fair countenance of Nature. Hemmed in
by forests and hills, save on the one side
where the slender neck of highland between
a wide territory of swamp on the one hand
and the backwater of Sunny Pond on the
other affords a pass-way to the place called
_ the Narrows, this isolated spot was known
as ‘‘the birches,’’ and its inhabitants, con-
sisting of a dozen families of evil repute,
were called ‘‘the Charcoal Burners of the
Narrows.”’

But we shall have enough of them anon,
so we will not let thei begrimed presence
mar the pleasure of this school outing as
Jong as it can be prevented.)

pupils, about forty in number,

having brought their luncheons in baskets,

were arranging for their outdoor feast in

the very best of spirits, their kind-hearted

teacher seeming everywhere present lending

her assistance toward making the occasion
as joyous as possible.

Partly to escape helping in these prelim-

_ inary arrangements, for either of them was
ever ready to walk a mile to avoid five min-
utes of work, and partly to satisfy their de-
sire tohunt for squirrels, Virgil Bennett
- and Vastly Sterns had left the crowd. and
penetrating deeper into the solitude of the
woods, climbed to the summit of the hill,

The growth here was sparse, owing to the
rocky surface of the earth, and the youthful

_ twain soon found themselves on the brink of
a cliff with a sheer descent of mdre than
forty feet.

Its surface composed of jagged lips and
spurs of rocks, with dark fissures and seams

and thin layers of poor earth, the perpen-
dicular wall of granite was partially cov-
ered with tufts of bushes and moss.

_ <A fringe of stunted growth marked the

_ edge of the chasm, so the boys had to make

ano ening before they could gaze into the

rae 8.
they had been prompted to make this ex-
amination from no stronger motive than
curiosity, but-Virgil Bennett’s first glance
brought a cry of wonder from him.
- The object catching his attention was a
rope dangling from the top of the cliff down
_ about half the distance to the bottom.
There were no bushes of any size at this
Ms ating and the line stopped at a shelf of bare
— rock.
‘‘Who do you suppose put it there, and
what is it for?’’ asked Vastly.

‘*1t looks so it had been there some time,’’
replied his companion, ‘‘Isn’t there an open-
ing in the rock just above that shelf??? f
‘Looks like it. If the bushes oaly grew
_ here as they do farther along I would climb

down and see.”’
_‘'*Well, you can’t climb down there, that
_is certain. But say, Vast, it may have been

put there by some old duffer who meant to
hang himself but lacked the courage, You
know Jobnny Shute——’’

‘*Nonsense! I tell you it
where.”’

After this bit of sage comment, which |
have repeated, the boys started to leave the
place, when four or five of their compan-
ions, who had followed them hither, ap-
peared upon the scene.

Among the new-comers was little Samniy
Dow, who was not over five years old and
small for his age.

At sight of him, Vastly Sterns exclaimed:

‘‘Hold on, Virg! Let’s lower Sammy down
to the shelf by the reps, and he can see if
there is a cave or not. We can do it as slick
as a whistle.’’

The novelty of the idea struck his com-
panion favorebly, and he entered into the
spirit of the proposition at once,

Too young to comprehend the real danger
his headstrong companions were asking him
to incur, Sammy Dow quickly agreed to
allow himself to be lowered to the rocky
shelf. Accordingly no time was lost in ad-
justing the rope about his body under the
arms, and the reckless twain, assisted by
two others, began to lower their smaller
schoolmate downward.

‘Look sharp, Sammy, and see if ‘there
isn’t a——’’

Little Sammy Dow was nearly down to
the shelf, when in the midst-of Vastly
Sterns’ speech a loud snap was heard, and
the rope parted midway, the doomed boy’s
shriek of horror ringing out sharply on the
clear afternoon air, as he was thus sud-
denly dropped into the depths.

‘‘The rope’s broke—Sammy’s_ killed!?’
cried Virgil Bennett, the first to speak of the
horrified group, and the remnant of the
rotten line fell from the grasp of the startled
boys,

At first not one of, them had the courage
to look over the brink to ascertain the fate
of their victim.

‘*Perhaps he wasn’t killed,’’ said Vastly,
as he parted the bushes with a trembling
hand and gazed into the chasm,

The next moment he exclaimed, joyously:

‘‘He didn’t fall to the. bottom, boys; ke
struck on the shelf. He lies there just as if
he was dead, though.”’

‘*‘What has happened, scholars?’’ asked a
voice, at this juncture, which caused every
one to turn abruptly, finding their teacher
and several schoolmates rapidly approach-
ing. ’

‘‘What was the meaning of that cry?’’
asked Miss Spencer. ‘‘Has any one been
hurt?’’

Then in broken language Virgil Bennett
told of the accident, Miss Spencer’s coun-
tenance growing pale as he continued.

When he had finished she approached the
brink of the chasm to carefully note the
situation of the unfortunate Sammy.

‘*1 do not believe he has been killed,’? she
said, with a breath of relief. ‘‘But he lies
there unconscious, and, oh, dear me! he is
lying on the very edge of the rock, so the
least move he makes will send him down to
certain death. What shall we do to save
bim??? ',

‘“*T will climb down to him—I think I can
do it,’’ said Bert Johnson, one of the largest
boys, and he was about to attempt the im-
possible feat, when Miss Spencer fortunately
recovered her presence of mind sufficient to
pull him back,

‘*No—no! you cannot do it—no one can,
and it would be madness to sacrifice another
life. We must havea rope and ladder as
soon as possible. Some of you run over to
Mr. Hill’s for help. Go as quickly as you
can for your lives,’’ é

Three of the largest boys started at once
upon their errand; but as it was two miles
to the nearest house there was little hope
that they could summon assistance in season
to save the life of the unconscious child,
who was lying so white and motionless on
the very brink of the rock-shelf.

leads some-

 

Frightened at what they had done, like the | ce

cowards they were, Virgil and Vastly fol-
| lowed those who had gone for help.

Miss Spencer began a close watch over the
imperiled boy, her fear increasing each mo-
ment. /

‘*Our only hope is that he will not recover

| consciousness before help gets here. But he
is sure to come to his senses soon—if he ever
does,’’? she added, in a low, husky voice.

NEW S.

 

‘‘The moment he moves he is sure to fall—
mercy! he is starting up—he is going over
the edge! What can I do?’’

CHAPTER II.
A VALIANT RESCUE BY AN UNPROMISING
HERO,

Soo ISS SPENCER recoiled from the
INA startling scene, unable to witness
J the fate of her pupil, while her

2S young companions huddled about
her in terror,

Fortunately the fright of the onlookers
was caused by the fluttering of little Sam-
my‘s jacket as it was lifted slightly by the
wind and not from any movement on his
part. But the color was coming back to his
cheeks, and in a moment he was sure to
rouse up unconscious of the peril the slight-
ak action on his part was certain to bring
im.

 

 

In the midst of this trying scene, his
coming unnoticed by the terrified group of
anxious ones, a new-comer appeared on the
brink of the precipice by the side of Miss
Spencer.

‘‘What’s the trouble?’’? he asked, simply.

Looking around with surprise the teacher
saw a boy smaller than the oldest of her
scholars.

In her excitement she did not notice his
unpromising appearance enough to give it a
second thought, though his tattered clothes,
with his face and hands and bare feet com-
pletely covered with coal dust gave hima
most unprepossessing look.

‘*] heard the cry down to the kill, mum,
and I thought something had happened to
somebody,’’ he said, as Miss Spencer hesi-
tated in her reply. ‘

‘*Sammy Dow has fallen over the cliff!

Qa?

‘‘He’s opening his eyes, teacher!’’ cried
one of the children,

The strange boy turned with the startled
woman to look over the chasm, comprehend-
ing in an instant the cause for alarm.

‘*He an’t going to lay there long,’’ he de-
clared, tersely, looking hurriedly around as
he spoke for some means of rescue.

Simultaneously with that glance his course
of action seemed clear, and with a rapidity
of movement that amazed the others he be-
gan to climb, hand over hand, a gray birch
standing near the edge of the abyss.

‘all and slender, as trees of that kind
grow, he had not ascended far before the
lithesome birch began to sway and bend be-
neath his weight. »

Keeping on the side toward which he
w ished to have it lean, the nimble climber
went higher and higher, until the strong
and supple tree bowed its top so it carried
him out over the yawning chasm, where if
he loosened his hold he must fall to certain
death upon the rocks below. ;

Still the undaunted boy, descending now
rather than going higher, crawled toward
the tapering crest of the birch, which con-
tinued to lower him into the depths.

Breathless and speechless, the spectators
watched him until he had gained the top-
most branches, and finding the tree no
longer moving downward, he paused to
survey his situation,

Finding that he was still several feet
above the shelf, he then unclasped his feet
and hung suspended in mid-air from the tip-
Atop stem of the birch. ; :

Somewhat to one side and several feet
above the shelf he must reach, he seemed
helpless to help him he had risked his life to
save,

“It is beyond his reach!’’ cried Miss
Spencer, wringing her hands in agony,
i me will both be killed! What shall we
do

But as she spoke the rescuer, finding he
must quickly abandon his precarious hold,
began to swing himself to and fro b
striking his feet against the rocky wall,
making the pendulum-like movements longer
each time, until finally he sprang lightly
down upon the shelf inside of little Sammy
Dow’s quivering figure.

Catching upon a crevice in the rock in
order to, maintain his own equilibrium, he
seized with the other hand upon Sammy
barely in season to save him from his
threatened fall.

A ery of relief came from the spectators
overhead, almost instantly followed by a
scream of terror from the frightened vic-
tim, who the moment he recovered his
senses, struggled to break from the hold of
his rescuer.

Trying to quiet his charge in vain, the
latter had no slight task on hand in main-
‘taining his grasp upon the terrified child
and his own position on the narrow ledge.

After a few minutes, however, Sammy,
finding he was in friendly hands, ceased his
struggles.

“Tf you can remain there a few minutes
help will be here,’’ called down Miss Spen-

rs ‘
‘‘All right, mum,’’ was the cheery re-
sponse, fi
Though the interval of waiting seemed
long, it was really but a short time before a
couple of men came, bringing with them a
long, stout rope, one end of which was soon
dropped to them on the rocky shelf, and
little Sammy was safe in the arms of the
teacher in a few minutes. >

 

‘This is the happiest moment of my life!’?
exclaimed Miss Spencer. ‘‘If vou had been
killed, [should never have forgiven myself.”’

The men hesitated as they realized the
task they must have in pulling up the larger
boy, but he quickly helped them out of their
difficulty.

‘*Fasten the end to the foot of the birch,’’
he said, and no sooner had it been done than
he ascended hand over hand.

‘*You brave, noble boy!’’ cried the
teacher, rushing to meet him, and regardless
of his grimy appearance, clasping him in
her arms.

“I’m afraid you wili smooch your fine
clothes,’’ said the strange youth, breaking
from her hold as soon as he could.

‘*Clothes are nothing beside what you
have done to-day, You are a true hero.
What is your name?’’

‘‘Why, teacher,’’ broke in Bryant Hill,
her oldest pupil, ‘‘don’t you know that he
is the son of Old Nick—one of the Bleaks of
the Birches? His father is in State prison,
and no one thinks of associating with any
of the crowd of old Nick ‘Bleak.’’

Miss Spencer tried to stop the speaker,
saying, as soon as he had stopped:

I don’t care who his folks are, he has
proved himself a hero. What may i call
your name, my hero???’

‘‘Nick Bleak, mum, though everybody
calls me the son of Old Nick. But 1 must
go. You see I left the kill mighty suddint,
and ’tan’t best to leave ’em long when they ©
get to this p’int.’’ ;

‘*¥.ou must come down and eat lunch with
us. The tables are all spread, and I couldn’t
think of letting you go without it.’’

‘‘T must, mum; hope you’ll excuse me.”

‘*Well, if you think you must I shall have
to let you go. Is it so very far to your
work???

‘*No, mum.,’?

‘*Then you will come back?
for you.’’
All of the school had by this time gathered

about the speakers, one after another eX-
changing significant comments and nodding
toward the unfavorable appearing boy, who
showed by his looks and manner that the ~
situation was anything but pleasant to him.

He had lost his frayed straw hat in his
descent over the precipice, and his dishevele
hair streamed about his bead in worse dis-
array than ever, while he moved uneasily
before the kindly gaze of Miss Spencer.

Realizing bis Ngsamhtere she said: x

‘You can go to your/work, Nicholas, if
you think best; but you must promise t?
come back. Will you, to please me?’’

‘‘Yes, mum,’’ and without stopping to say
more, he bounded away into the under-
growth like a frightened deer. satin

‘‘You won’t see anything more of, bim,
Miss Ada,’’ said Mr. Hill, with a smile.
‘‘Hark!, I can hear him running half @
mile away.’’ ;

‘‘T should think you would be glad he}
gone, teacher,’’ said Annie Blake, ‘‘Ob,
my! he has ruined your dress. To think on

We will wait —

of those charcoal burners should have dare@

to come near you!’’ I
‘‘What do you mean, Annie? It was
who went to him, and I could have &1
him with all the dirt on his face, I was 5°
happy. If it hadn’t been for him, Sammy
would have been killed, and I should oe
always blamed myself for taking him here
to-day.’’ if
‘‘But the Bleaks and Blares are real mee
people, Miss Spencer. Everybody is afral
of them and dislikes them.’’ 3
‘‘Whatever his people are, he bas dope
an act to-day that will make me always ie a
member him. He doesn’t seem like an 0%)
boy. At any rate he is coming back pena MA
lunch with us, and I want you all to #
him well.’’ , ae
Miss Spencer was generally liked, arst
though this was the beginning of her vO
schoo] at the Narrows, she had already W& =)
the friendship of her pupils. nt ee
Thus nothing more was said openly age eit 2
Nick Bleak, while the party followed # f
mistress back to their lunching grounds | 4¢
This was one of the prettiest spots the.
could be found in mid-forest, and onde the 30
spreading branches of two giant 0 a
tables had been placed, the tempting ree
on them tastefully arranged with avant
vines twined around and about the differe
dishes and the borders of the boards.
At the moment that our schoo
came in sight of the place a loud cras® |
in their ears, followed by the collaps¢ © 300
of the ae a the ane of Page pe :
running away through the woods. — of
“Our Samak is ruined!"’ cried a chorus e
voices, while above the childish CN :
the louder tone of Virgil Bennett, s@¥
‘‘It’s that Nick Bleak, teacher:
chase him down?’’

a

CHAPTER III.
EVERYTHING AGAINST HIM.

e of

ISS SPENCER caught a grpearing
NZ a youthful figure fast disarray on! a8

5¥é] into the depths of the forest, called
—rexs> but her attention was qui es bY
to the scene of the wrecked lunch ®™ yj i¢
the movements of a huge, yellow, Battered
was greedily devouring the viands | 3
about the place.

‘*Get out!’’ she screamed.

RA

46 Ob, Mr.

 

 

yiands - 1

shall T -
 
   

 

   
 

drive away that dreadful creature before he
destroys everything.’’
, Mr. Hill, as well as the others, had seen
4 the thieving animal, and catching up a-club, |
_ he hurled it with a precision and force that |
_ sent the brute off into the woods with a|
howl,
It was a gaunt, ill-favored dog, which |
_ looked as if it was nearly starved to death. |
“Tt belongs to that dreadful Nick Bleak, |
and it has spoiled our dinner. Look here,
| teacher, and see where he has bitten into
{|  =™y mummer’s pie that she made for me|
4 ~—syesterday,’’ cried Alice Harvey, beginning

 

=> fo cry.
_- , ‘Perhaps we can save enough for our}
_ lunch,’ said Miss Spencer, hopefully, |

  
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
  

though she felt very much like giving away |
to her feelings.
nder her directions the children, assisted
by the older ones, who by this time had
been called hither by the alarm that had
en made over the adventure of Sammy |
OW, soon rearranged the tables, sorting out
@ food that showed the least vestiges of
the depredation which had been’ made,
“Why, I believe it looks better than it did
before,”’ declared the teacher, ‘‘and as we
Shall not be likely to leave them again with-
Out some one to watch over them, we won’t
*Y Our good time be marred by thoughts of
What. has been done. Even little Sammy
ere is forgetting his trouble and beginning
iy oof as cheerful as any of us. See, the
—4umpon his head, where he struck on the.
‘Tock when he fell, is growing beautifully
less. What a narrow escape that was!’?
‘We came pretty near getting him,
teacher,”? cried Virgil Bennett, suddenly re
-4bpearing upon the scene, Vastly Sterns and
n% 9 or three others following closely upon
Als heels.
Ae To tell the truth, he and Vastly were
5 Quite anxious to do something to divert at-
fention from the cause of Sammy Dow’s

. thy Never mind, Virgil. Of course you don’t
ink it was Nick Bleak that upset the
_ tables.” :
‘ “Io ‘We know it was, teacher, , And that yel-
ont is his Robin, the very worst dog in

ie

one tere is one thing certain,’’ remarked

lng: ‘the oldest girls, ‘‘he won’t dare to
W himself now, so our picnic won’t be

eeued by his presence.’

8 ot knowing what reply to make, Miss

enc remained silent, and under the ex-

hae out and enthusiasm of the occasion,

win, preparations for the lunch went on

ae @ ene further reference to the young

ae age " Coal burner, until as the party began to

~ fell fated at the tables the sound of footsteps

San Ni the scene, and to the amazement of |

R » Nick Bleak and his dog paused near

_ “oy pencer,

but hope I haven't kept you waiting, mum,

Wes j Y@come as soon asI could. The kill
‘In a bad way when I got back.’’

© was pleased to notice that he had

     
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
  

  

 

  

  

   

 

} briewhat improved his personal appearance
. site rs hinE his clothes, evidently with a
left wt as there were marks of the same
[Se tially re the coal dust had been but par-
Ms nd, removed, and he had gvashed his face
) ly tie But this last act could be scarce-
cS ob “a an improvemert, as he had failed
; ‘ feat oe all trace’ of the aa so his
| ; ere corrugated wi : ines
ese grime and rides rugated with dark lines of
pte Ks of displeasure had suddenly ap-
LS Y of oe the countenances of the major-
. dissati ed pupils, while murmured words of
Oi Tres action were heard on every hand.
an turn. 28 hot to notice all this, Miss Spencer
; : ing: © the young charcoal burner, say-
es Rae
\ faker ou are just in season, Nicholas. Here,
. uy qecat on this side.’’
; g me, Pe want him sitting by the side of
enoy i er,’? whispered Annie Blake, loud

oy fo be heard around the table,

Watson move down by the side of Cora
“can sit} f you wish to, and Vastly Sterns
: Thee It will make it better——”?

 

 

t ings, ot that miserable dog! He is jump-
‘D

wg had not pobin called out Nick, who

is the animal ed to see the frantic actions of

+ “Why can’t you keep still,

  

  

at ® him something to eat; he jis
iy a Said Miss Spencer, tossing the
oo ing Robin Piece of meat, which the famish-
12. Ban to o wtied away to a distance and
ts ily devour.

mi fak had overheard enough to
a Pa et something had taken place
30 1 1S coming which had caused
re : Hd Robin get to your dinner, mum?’?

‘Not real) f little account, Nicholas, He was
‘ blame.”?

aay. mum, and I’m sure Robin
0 to do anything wrong.”

Were here with him,’? spoke up
an prove it by three or four of

Ook

oat no one understood appeared

burner. 3, pinched features of the char-
_ ? Who finally said, in a low, firm

  

Coa]
tong

    

uu to the coal kill after I
ae at the bj rock,’?

 

er mi :
“copped Miss Spencer hastened |
» Ong rn is spoiling, so take hold

 

el

It was a hungry crowd, and busy with
satisfying their appetites, the children soon
forgot the presence of Nick Bleak, if
Vastly Sterns is excepted,

The latter improved every opportunity he
could get to prod his seat-mate with a pin,
capping the climax of his persecutions by
pushing the supports of the bench from |
under if and thus precipitating all on it}
upon the ground in a promiscuous heap.

‘*He did it!’’ declared Vastly, jerking his |
thumb in the direction of Nick Bleak.

The thin lips of the latter twitched, his |
hands clinched, and for a moment it seemed |
as if he would throw himself upon the ac- |
cuser; but looking up at Miss Spencer, and |
seeing the discouraging expression on her |
countenance, he quickly changed his atti-
tude, at once lending his assistance toward
repairing the seat, saying simply:

‘‘Everything is against me, mum.”’

Despite these little unpleasant features,
the lunch was voted a grand success, and
when Nick Bleak declared, at its close, that
he must return to his work, Miss Spencer
thanked him for the pleasure of his company
and invited him to call at her boarding-
place, all of which he received with a pain-
ful bashfulness that showed be was bewil-
dered by this unexpected kindness,

‘‘My? faith, Miss Ada,’’ said Mr. Gill,
with a laugh, ‘‘I really believe you are

smitten by the young scamp.”’

‘*All heroes do not carry their trade-
marks on their faces, Mr. Hill. Something |
tells me that boy has the right qualities in
him to make a true man.”’

‘*If he does make an honest man, Miss
Ada, it will be a miracle. He is made up of |
the very worst elements in humanity.”’’

‘‘We are not all good at our best, Mr.
Hill, nor all bad at our worst.’’

At a loss to know how to reply, Mr, Hill
turned to some of the boys to say:

‘*Wevforgot to take that rope along with
us in our excitement. Won’t some of you
run up to the cliff and get it?’

‘‘Virg and I will get it,’’ cried Vastly
Sterns, starting at once on the errand, with
his friend accompanying him,

‘*T want to see what is at the foot of that
rope,’’ said Vastly, as they reached the
summit. ‘‘I’ll bet there is something there
worth looking for,’?

As he considered himself the leader of the
undertaking, Vastly insisted upon being the
one to descend to the rocky shelf, and with-
out delay he began his hazardous descent.

By holding smartly on the swaying line
and bracing his feet against the rough side
of the cliff, he managed to descend in safety,
until he was nearly to the end of the rope,

Glancing downward then, he saw a dark
opening into the wall, which was evidently
the entrance to a cavern, and he shouted to
his companion:

‘‘There is a hole in the ledge as I told
you. And that rope did lead some——’’

In the midst of his speech he suddenly dis-
covered the figure of Nick Bleak crouching
at the mouth of the cave, and he added, in
a tone of terror:

‘*Pull me up—quick, Virg! The son of
Ola Nick is here, and he’s got a knife and
means to cut the rope!’’

(TO.BE CONTINUED.)

> oe
/ THE DULL BOY SCORED.
‘‘Now, my sharp lads!’’ exclaimed the
schoolmaster, ‘‘answer me this little riddle
and there’s a holiday for the one who does
it. Supposing a gentle little donkey was tied
to a tree with a rope eight yards long, and
a truss of bay was inviting his appetite at a
distance of nine yards, how alge he get at
it without breaking or gnawing the rope?’’
The hay, the donkey, and the difficulty
were mentally seen, but not the answer to
the ancient conundrum.
‘*All give it up?’’ asked the master.
‘*Yes, sir,’? was answered in a chorus of
disappointment.
Then the schoolmaster,
claimed :
‘So did the other little donkey, my lads.’
‘*Please, sir, the other day you said I was
a dull boy, but may 1 answer?’’ asked a
very little fellow, with a sly look.
‘Certainly, Arthur; but you must be
quick,’’ decided the man of knowledge.
‘*Well, then, sir,’’ the juvenile declared,
‘‘when he’d gone eight yards he’d be sure
to reach the hay by keeping on four feet,
and he’d have a foot over as well as_ his
nose.’
Then the master bent over his desk with-
out a leg to stand on,
~>- 0

HIS LITTLE JOKE.

naturally, ex-

 

 

‘Speaking of narrow escapes,’’ observed
Mr. Chugwater, reaching for his second cup
of coffee, ‘‘did I tell you that I was in a
train the other day that came within three
feet of being run into by another train going
at full speed?’’

‘*For merey’s sake, no!’ exclaimed Mrs.
OR ‘Show did it happen?’’

“The train that came so.near running into
ours,’’ he rejoined, buttering a biscuit, ‘‘ was
onthe other track, and’ going the other
way..’’

GOOD NEWS.

|THE WIZARD

 

It was several minutes before Mrs. Chug-
water broke loose, but when
made up for lost time.

she did she!

 

4771

 

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

OVERHEAD STEVE:

 

OF THE WIRES.

BY EMERSON BELL,
Author of “In the Heart of the Earth,” “The
Electric Air and Water Wizard,”
** Beneath the Waves,” ete,
(“OVERHEAD STEVH’’ was commenced in No, 289.
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER XXXVI.

AN UNDERGROUND ADVENTURE.
CRY of horror arose from those
> standing about the sewer trench as
they saw the bank give way and
Overhead Steve buried out of sight.

‘*He will be killed !”’

‘*He is buried alive!’’

‘*Dig him out, boys!’’

‘*¥You can’t do it! He’ll be smothered be-
fore you can reach him!’

  

The crowd grew frantic, and the old tar |

|
}
j

:
}

 

When he at length felt able to move he
arose and inspected the situation. At one
end of the pier he found a iadder leading to
the planking above. He crawled up this,
and soon found himself on the street,

He was several blocks from the spot where
the cave-in had occurred, and it took him
a quarter of an hour to find the locality
again. When he reached it he found that
the crowd had dug down to the sewer-way,
and then curiously enough abandoned the
spot.

To a boy standing by, Steve left word to
tell the workers that he was safe. He would
have rewarded them, but did not know
where they had gone, and, as we know, he
had no time to spare.

His clothing was wet, but as it was a very
warm night he did not mind this.

‘*T wish I could run across that Bob Box-
ley again,’’ he thought. ‘‘It’s a wonder he
didn’t stay here.”’

He hunted around for fully an hour, and
then returned to his hotel and had his gar-
ments dried.

After this, late as it was, he determined
to go on another hunt for the Victory Hotel,
convinced that every minute was precious.

He had passed along several blocks, when
at the entrance to a saloon he ran full-tilt
into Boxley again. The tar could scarcely

who had been with Overhead Steve did not | believe his eyes.

know what to do.
Shovels were procured, and several leaped

into the trench and began to dig with might |
| Steve, as he caught the sailor by the arm.

and main.

But a great mass of dirt had fallen, and
it was plain to see that tit would take an
hour or more to reach the level of the sewer-
way.

Could the entombed youth keep alive that
length of time?

The crowd thought it doubtful, but con-
tinued to dig, hurling the dirt in all direc-
tions.

In the meanwhile, how was Overhead
Steve faring?

When the first shock came he was thrown
flat. Ere he could arise the mass of earth
had completely covered him, and he was in
absolute darkness.

The sensation was an awful one,- and he
gave himself up for lost, It seemed to him
as if there were tons and tons on top of
him.

For several seconds he lay perfectly still,
then with a hand that was close to his face,
he shoved the dirt away, that be might have
some chance to breathe.

He had fallen close beside the wires, and
his foot rested in the hollow at the end of
the sewer-way, a spot that had not been
filled on account of the brickwork.

It was dreadful to think he was buried
alive, and as soon as he had recovered from
the first shock, he set about for some means
of saving himself from his strange imprison-
ment.

He did not know they were digging down
to save him, but imagined that to wait for
rescue would be foolhardy.

He could not dig his own way out, he
fully understood this. But he remembered
the sewer-way. Might he not craw] into this
and get out at some opening farther on?

He resolved to try the plan, and wormed
along through the dirt’ until he had slipped
past the brickwork opening. Then he found
himself in a tunnel, the opening shaped like
a horse-shoe, and probably five feet high in
the centre.

The opening had not yet been connected
with the old sewer, so it was perfectly dry,
although filled with horrible odors.

Overhead Steve had no matches, so he
could not make a light by which to guide
himself. He moved along in absolute dark-
ness, his hands before him to keep himself
from running into new danger.

He had traversed the sewer-way a distance
of two hundred feet when, without warning,
he dropped into a large round basin, at the
bottom of which flowed a great quantity of
sea water. | _

The current of this stream carried him
under, and in a second he was bobbing along
in the water like a cork ia a Tee

He held his breath, wondering how long
this would last, He put out his hand, and
encountered. a slimy brick wall, which
afforded not the slightest hold.

Ten—fifteen—twenty seconds passed. His
head grew faint, and a roaring sounded in
his ears. He could hold his breath no longer.

But now the water grew lighter iv color,
and this gave him a desperate hope. Five
seconds more—all he could possibly stand—
and up he shot into the air under a long iron
pier. i

As he came up he gave a gasp and clutched
at several braces close at hand. A last effort
landed him on a little platform just above
the waters of the bay and then he dropped
down and his senses left him. easy

When he recovered consciousness he knew
nothing at first but that his head was aching
as if it were ready to split open. All was
dark around him. He sat up and tried to
recollect what had happened.

Several minutes passed, and then, like a
flash, it all came back to him. He had been
close to death, but he was now safe, and for
this he was exceedingly thankful.

For a long while he remained on the little
hapa regaining his strength and giving

is head a chance to come around to its nor-
mal condition,

y

.

 

 

‘‘Wot, alive!’’ he cried, as he started
back. ‘‘It must be yer ghost!’’
‘*No ghost about me,’’ laughed Overhead

‘*Well! well!
ye escape?’’

In as few words as possible Steve told
him. Bob Boxley listened with interest.

‘‘Yer came putty close to death, mess-
mate,’’ said the tar. ‘‘Wot’s yer lay now?”’

‘*As before, I want to find the Victory
Hotel.’

‘*To arrest them fellers yer spoke on?’’

$¢'VWas,??

‘* All right; I’m with ye!’’

And side by side the pair started off.

The walk to the Victory Hotel occupied
but a few minutes, They found the saloon
down stairs locked up. On the second floor
several lights were burning, and a side door
leading to the hajl-way stood open.

“Tl go up and take a look around,’’ said
Steve. ‘‘ Will you wait for me here?’’

‘*If ye want me to.”’

‘*Be ready to summon the police.’’

Ma will,??

Bob Boxley lighted his pipe, and leaned
up against the side of the building.

Overhead Steve looked into the hall-way,
and, seeing that the coast was clear, mounted
to the floor above. From a front room came
the murmur of voices, and in that direction
he took his way.

He was within a few feet of the front end
of the hall when a door in the rear opened
and two men came out. They were Albert
E. 8. Smeed and Cimber!

’m glad to see ye! How did

 

CHAPTER XXXVII.
A TRIP IN A TRUNK.

VERHEAD STEVE’S first impulse
> on seeing the two robbers was to
stand on the defense: his second to
“AS” hide. He acted on the latter, and
ere the two men saw him he opened the door
of a side room and slipped into the apart-
ment.

All was dark theffe, and he had to feel his
way across the room to a corner, where sev-
eral trunks and some clothing were half-
hidden by a heavy curtain stretched on a
wire, this contrivance being used in lieu of
a closet.

As Steve reached the trunks he heard
Smeed and Cimber pause in front of the
door he had just closed.

‘*T thought I saw somebody go in,’’ he
heard Cimber say.

‘‘So did I,’’ replied Smeed. ‘‘But both of
us may be mistaken.’’

‘*We’ll go in and see. Nothing like mak-
ing sure. I reckon there are sneak thieves
here as well as elsewhere.’’

‘‘Sure.’?

The two men opened the door and came
i

   

n.
While they were conyersing Overhead
Steve was not idle.

One of the trunks near him was open.

It contained a few articles of clothing |
only. '

As quick asa flash. Steye took up the
clothing, sprang into the trunk and covered
himself up..

Matters were barely arranged when
Smeed and Cimber came in, and the former
struck a match and lighted the gas.

The two looked around the apartment,
even gazing into the trunk.

‘*No one here,’’ remarked Cimber.

‘Nothing gone, so far as I can see,’’ re-
joined Smeed, and then both threw them-
selves into chairs. m

‘*Well, then it is settled we start for Ban-
gor to-morrow?’’ said Cimber, after a brief
pause.

‘*Yes; the boat leaves at nine o’clock.”’

‘*Poor Lutz will have to suffer, Smeed.’’ [

‘*T don’t care. I never liked him.’”?

‘‘Nor I, for that matter.. Where is the
schooner?’’

“Down at the Anchor wharf.’’

  

   

 
   

   
   
    
   
           
         
          
     
     
     
          
       
    
       
      
      
      
   
    
     
        
        
       
       
    
    
      
          
       
        
            
       
       
   
     
    
 
         
    
      
    
     
 

 

         
    
     
      
   
 
 

 
 

4772

CTOOED

 

 

‘*You’ll certainly take those models with
you?”?’ ;

‘‘Certainly. They are ovér there in the
corner.’

‘*Tt’s bad policy to leave them around in
that fashion,’’ observed Cimber, as he
arose. ‘‘Let me put them in the trunk.’’

‘‘Go ahead, but be careful how you handle
them.’’

‘<T’ll pack them in some of the clothing.’’

When Overhead Steve heard these words
he shivered. Discovery seemed inevitable.

Cimber came over to the trunk, and, lift-
ing up a package done up in brown paper,
dropped it on top of the hidden youth. Then
he took some clothing from the hooks on the
wall and stuffed them around. the sides of
the bundle ana on top.

‘Ill lock it up, too,’’ Steve heard him
say, and then the stuff on him was pressed
down and the trunk lid closed.

At first Steve thought he would be in dan-
ger of smothering, but luckily his face was
turned to one side of the trunk which con-
tained a small slit, and this supplied him
with fresh air. But the slit’was too small to
allow of anything being seen or heard from
the outside. He caught a faint murmur,
which soon after died away, and then all
became silent.

Several hours passed. Steve had fallen in
a sort of doze when of a sudden he was
raised up and literally stood on his head.
This did not last long, for again he was
raised up and carried about.

A cold breath of air told him that he was
outside, probably in a wagon. Then came a
jouncing which lasted nearly half an hour,
and he was thrown down with force enough
to make every bone in his body ache.

Silence followed for several hours more;
then the trunk was opened, and the bundle
on top of Steve taken out.

‘“We’ll examine them in the cabin,’’ the
youth heard Smeed say, and the robber and
Cimber walked away.

Finding himself alone, Overhead Steve
emerged cautiously from his hiding-place,
and gazed about him. He was in the hold
of a vessel which was riding at anchor.

Cautiously he left the spot where the trunk
had been dumped, and moved around until
he found himself directly under the hatch
hole.

He looked up to see nothing but the top of
a tall mast and beyond this the blue sky.
No persons were in the vicinity of the open-
ing.

i leap, and he had caught hold above,
and was drawing himself up. It was early
morning. He remembered what he had
heard, that the vessel would leave her mdor-
ing at nine o’clock. There was no time to
be lost, if anything was to be done.

He gazed about the deck. A solitary sailor
was in sight, gazing out on the bay. The
pier was close at hand.

The vessel was the same one from which
he had previously escaped. He wondered if
the kind-hearted negro was still on. board.
But now was no time to find out.

He leaped out on the deck, and ran lightly
toward the pier. He had just passed over the
vessel’s side when the sailor saw him and
gave a loud alarm.

‘‘What’s up?’’? cried the captain of the
boat, as he ran out on deck, followed by
Smeed and Cimber.

‘That boy we had a prisoner afore! There
he goes!?’

‘* Impossible }”’ &

‘*T say it’s him!’’ insisted the sailor.

‘¢After him, then!’’ yelled Captain Grady,
and ran for the pier with al] possible speed.

But, of course, he could not catch Steve,
who could outrun him two to one.

The chase ended at the first block, and,
much disturbed, the captain came back.

He talked the matter over with the sailor,
and also with Smeed and Cimber.

‘‘The only safe plan is to leave here at
once!’’ exclaimed Smeed, nervously. ‘‘That
boy is the evil one’s own, and we can’t
afford to take chances on him,”’

‘*Thats’ so,’’ put in Cimber. ‘‘If wé remain
here he’ll have the police down on us in
quarter of an hour.’’

‘*But the rest of my crew——’’ began the
captain. ‘‘The negro and Dick Blair are off
on shore.’’

**We’ll help you work the ship,’’ said
Cimber. ‘tI spent six months along the

coast.”’

' ‘Allright, then. Cast off, Halpin, and
he lively !”’

“Ay, BY, sir”? j

The other sailors were called, and in less
than three minutes the schooner was stand-
ing out of the bay. PF

A stiff breeze was blowing, andevery inch
of canvas was put out in order to get away.

In the meantime Overhead Steve ran on
until he found a policeman.

To this officer he told his story, and help
was summoned as speedily as possible.

But when the pier was reached the schoon-
er was already out of sight.

A steam tug was procured, and the en-
tire morning was spent in cruising around
in search of the other vessel.

It was a useless search, and at noon Over-
head Steve returned to Boston.

But the youth did not give up. He re-
turned to his hotel, took a good. brushing
up, and had breakfast, and then hurried
down to the depot to take the first train for
pangor.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIITI.

A RUNAWAY TROLLEY CAR,

  
 

UOPAHE journey to Bangor was an une-
; ~ ventful one, and Overhead Steve was

L) so sleepy that he dozed nearly the
7” entire distance.

Once in Bangor, he found quarters at a
hotel near the river, and the next day set
out to hunt up the schooner, whose name
had been changed from what it formerly
was to the Starlight.

As soon as the schooner was found he in-
tended to inform the police and have all on
board, with the possible exception of the
negro (Steve, as we know, was not aware
the colored man had been left behind) ar-
rested. But the day passed by, and also the
next, and nothing was seen or heard of the
Starlight.

Then on the third day Overhead Steve
determined to take a ride along the river
shore to the several towns farther down,
thinking the Starlight might have dropped
anchor before reaching Bangor.

For this purpose he boarded a new trolley
line, and was soon whirling over the smooth
road at the rate of ten miles an hour.

The car was comfortably filled with peo-
ple, and Steve sat in front, watching the
motorman regulating the speed as_ they
went up hill and down.

Presently he noticed that the man had his
hands full with the brake, which was very
stiff, and which at times scarcely acted.

He grew more and more interested, es-
pecially as they were going down a long
bill.

Looking ahead, Steve saw standing on the
track a heavy truck filled with blocks of
stone.

It was a long distance away, but the trol-
ley was skipping over the rails faster and
faster.

The motorman rang his gong loudly for
the driver of the truck to get off the track.

Slowly the truck moved away, but before
it was entirely off the track the trolley car
hit it. There was a crash, and then around
and around spun the brake, while the car
went on faster than ever.

‘*Stop! stop!’’ cried a score of voices at
once.

‘*Yes! yes! Let me get off!’’

‘‘See, the whole side of the car is
smashed !”?

All the passengers sprang up in wild alarm,
for they expected every minute to see the
trolley car go over on its side.

‘*T can’t make the brake work!’’ gasped
the motorman.

He was scared enough to. jump off into
the road.

‘Then throw off the trolley !’’ cried Steve
and a dozen others.

The conductor started to do so.

He gave another wild cry of alarm.

The shock of the collision with the stone
truck had snapped the cord by which the
trolley pole is guided from the rear end of
the car. Curiously enough, the wheel still
remained in contact with the wire.

It was truly a thrilling moment.

Here were two score of people on a run-
away trolley car, and there was no telling
what they might run into at any moment.

The motorman became desperate, and
leaped into the road, rolling over and over
into the dirt.

‘*Jump for your lives!’?

‘*Tf we strike anything we’ll be smashed
to bits!’

The wildest kind of excitement ‘prevailed.

‘*Sit still!’’ yelled Overhead Steve, at the
top of his voice. ‘‘I will stop the car.’’

** How !”?

‘*T’ll throw the.trolley off !’’

No sooner had Steve spoken than he pre-
pared to climb out of one of the side win-
dows to the top of the car.

This was no easy matter, as the car was
going faster and faster, and threatening at
every curve to jump the track,

But Steve did not falter. He took a good
hold, and slowly drew himself up.

‘*There’s a plucky boy !”’ ;

‘*Hope he stops us before we run into any-
thing !”’

For the time being the crowd calmed
down, and watched the youth until he dis
appeared over the top of the window onto
the roof.

Then those in front turned their atten-
tion ahead.

They were going down a long hill.

At the bottom was a sharp turn, and
what lay beyond was hidden by the trees.

lf anything was in the way, and they did

not stop, more than one person wouldsurely

be killed,

On and on they went, trees and bushes
flying past, and all holding tight, their faces
a deadly white. Some prayed openly, while
others were speechless with terror.

Having reached the top of the car, Over-
head Steve found the most difficult part of
the job before him. The top was curved and
slippery, and afforded no foothold. The best
he could do was to lie flat and crawl back-
ward to the spot where the long pole con-
nected with the car top.

Foot by foot he moved on, fearful that an
extra jounce of the car might hnrl him to
the ground. But it did not come, and in a

+ few seconds he had caught hold of the trol-

ley pole and swung it clear of the wire.

 

NEWS.

 

 

Although they were going down hill the
speed of the car was lessened somewhat,
there being now no power to shove along
the wrecked portion, which dragged along
the ground. All hoped that the car would
stand still as soon as the foot of the hill was
reached.

But the momentum was too great for this.
The curve came in sight all too soon. There
followed a crash, and over went the car on
its side, hurling Overhead Steve from the
top as if from the end of a spring-board!

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
ee

 

fa 3

To Bo Tunes.

aieelhnl df idan

OW

EDITED BY DAVID PARKS.

 

————

SOME AMUSING TRICKS.
HERE are a number of tricks, some of
them well known, others new, proba-
. bly, to a good many readers which are
> rather amusing.

One of the best of these tricks is the fol-
lowing:

Take the opposite sides of two chip match-
boxes, and, with a pair of scissors, cut them
both at once, into an oblong shape. Lightly
split the ends of two matches, and jam the
chips into them, so as to make two minia-
ture fans, and suspend one fan by a fine
thread to a gas bracket, or some convenient
hook, so that it may swing freely, sticking a
pin through the loose end of the match to
make it hand level.

Allow the twisting of the thread to subside
so that the fan hangs quite still, and try to
fan it around by means of the other little
fan, You will find that, instead of this driv-
ing the suspended fan away, it will draw
it toward the fan in your hand. As showing
that this is not due to any twist or ‘‘tor-
sion’’ of the thread, one may alternately
fan from first one side and then the: other.
The effect is always the same. We cannot
easily repel the suspended fan; it always
moves toward us. The behavior of the sus-
pended fan reminds one of the way in which
light objects are attracted by anything that
is electrified.

This curious effect is probably due to a
kind of suction caused by the escape of the
air between the sides of the two fans as we
bring them swiftly together. If we makea
third fan exactly like the other two, except
in having a narrow slip of chip cut from a
match-bex glued upon it, so as to make a
kind of saucer, we shall find that this will
blow the suspended fan away from it easily
enough.

It is impossible to perform this little ex-
periment without noting the effect of tor-
sion or twisting of the thread. After turning
around once or twice the thread insists upon
untwisting itself. Some things resist twisting
more than others do, and some will twist of
themselves under certain conditions.

A piece of catgut, for instance, twists and
untwists slightly under the influence of
changes inthe air—changes, that is, from
comparative dryness to comparative mois-
ture.

This interesting fact was taken advantage
of in the little weather toys once pretty
common, representing a cottage with two
doors and the figures of an old man and
woman ona wire in them. The wire was
connected with a strand of catgut; as it
twisted one way the man (who wore a _ hat
and overcoat) would swing out of his door,
and as it twisted the other way, the woman,
bareheaded, would emerge from the other.
Damp air brought out the man, foretelling
rain, and dry air the woman, with the re-
verse prediction.

There is en amusing trick with a match-
box, which is thus performed: Take an
ordinary sliding match-box, and remove
from it four matches. Slip two of these be-
tween the slide and the box, on opposite
sides, heads inward, and wedge the third
match between the two. Strike the fourth
match, and light the transverse (or third)
match in the middle, when, as soon as it has
burned a little, it will spring briskly up out
of the embrace of the other two matches,
the spring being imparted to it by the pres-
sure of these, and the moment of action be-
ing determined by the time taken to burn
away the middle of the match. As soon as
the latter grows too weak to stand the pres-
sure from the ends up it goes, with a start-
ling effect.

Another four-match trick, is to slightly
split a wooden match at oneend, and having
cut a flat point on another match, jam them
together. It now will be easy to make a self-
sustaining tripod, and the puzzle is, this
being done, to pick up all three on the other
match, and without touching them with
the hand. The single match is first gently
caught by the match in the hand, and the
hand is then lowered, until the single match
can be passed under the angle formed by
the joined matches, which will then be
readily picked up.

There is more science in the following toy,
which can be bought in a modified form,
but which is perbaps most pleasing when one

makes it for one’s self. Take a small spool, |

and into one end of it, on opposite sides of

 

the central perforation, drive a couple of
short nails, or of stout pins, carefully filing
off their heads. By means of a long nail
passed through the centre of the spool, at-
tach the latter to the end of a piece of hard
wood, but do not drive the nail far enough
in to prevent the spool] turning freely upon it.
When this is done we have obviously some-
thing in the nature of a top; the spool will
readily be made to revolve by means of a
piece of string.

The spool, however, is not the thing we
want to spin. Its function is merely to im-
part motion to something else, which is a
piece of sheet tin (cut from the lid of a sar-
dine-box if not otherwise obtainable), and
pierced by two holes, carefully smoothed
off, of such a size and at such a distance as
to fit nicely on the two pins in the spool. A
slight twist must be given to the tin; just
how much twist we can only determine by
a few trials of the toy. Hold the hard-wood
handle, wind a piece of string on the spool,
put the tin on the pins, and spin the spool
by pulling the string. If the tin is properly
shaped and bent, it will fly up in the air to
a considerable height, and, performing 4
graceful curve, return to somewhere abou
where it started from.

The piece of tin acts somewhat like an
aeroplane. Its flight is the result of the re-
sistance offered by the air to the revolution
of the tin. °

As a practical note, in adjusting the toy
it must be kept in mind that there is aright
way around andja wrong way around t0
spin the piece of tin. If, therefore, it should’
obstinately refuse to fly when spun, it may
be that it has been placed on the points
wrong side up. When the right side is defi-
nitely ascertained, one may make a mark of
the tin in order to identify the proper p05!
tion. The twist is given it by holding one
end in a pair of pliers, and very slightly
twisting it from the other end.

An amusing trick is to offer any @ne @
needle, a coin, and a hammer, with the inv)
tation to drive the needle through the coi.
This feat is practically impossible without
knowing the trick, as the moment the needle
is struck by the hammer it will break. Bu
if we imbed the whole length of needle in 4
cork, stand the coin on a spoo), with o
cork over it, and strike the latter sharply
with the hammer, the needle will be drive?
clean through the coin, passing into
hollow afforded for its passage by the P@
foration through the spool. ny

J. R. C., Newark, N. J., wants to know
HOW TO MAKE A WATER TELESCOPE.

The water telescope may be made of ve
or tin, as you prefer. The tin is better, oe
the wood is easier made, although both pe
of simple construction. Suppose we dese!
the wooden one first. Take four strips of
wood, an inch thick, three feet long, and ‘ae
a width widening from twelve inches at as
top to twenty inches at the bottom. nee
a tube from these pieces, taking care to m4 t
the seams Water-tight with putty and gin
In the large end fix a sheet of glass, . j
mented firmly and made water-tight, “a0
leave the smalf end open. To make @ for
water telescope, get a tinsmith to make ane
you (or make it yourself, if you can) 4
nel-shaped tin-horn, about three feet ont
ten or twelve inches in diameter at the eae
end, and twenty inches in diameter we of
large end. In the large end fix a shee.
glass, and if you cannot use a round Oe
make the large end of the funnel squé er
That is all there is to make about the a a
telescope, except that the inside shoul at
stained black, and that it is advisable the
tach weights or sinkers to the outside 0° "n,
large end to make it easier to submers® wn
use this telescope, sink the large e? t your
in the water about two feet, and pu vill
head in the small end and look. Oryhich
be astonished at the plainness with | mals,
you will see all kinds of fish, water ant our
and plants, and at the depth to which yt
vision will penetrate. Of course you wy any
see very far through troubled mately ough
more than you could see the stars t not be
the clouds; and, besides, it would 1 side
very safe or pleasant to lean over in
of a boat with your head in a tube during
the prevalence of a choppy sea. rsion OF
ing a calm, delightful summer excl arties;
the water, on boating and picnic Protriv-
you can imagine how much such @ ie
ance would add to your pleasurm 4 from
nothing of the instruction derive of the
studying the habits of the creatures yi cost:
water at home; and all this at a 54) are
We may add that fishermen gone eb they
conversant with this instrument, YW" ioht,
call a ‘‘water-glass,’? but WHIC™ (ater
with more propriety, be called wapunt to
telescope.’? However, that would 3 aD who
the same thing to a seafaring, ™ ly. as a
always refers to a telescope *12 ‘F rument
‘“‘olass.?? Sponge-fishers use the st along
in their business, and ¢oul not
very well without it.

0

Miner—‘‘So you think of peter

Physician—‘' Yes, I thought of } fs
among you.’’ . there!

Minch ‘Look here, young mani ¢ unde!-
a good opening for a young ae
stands his business, but we 40” qoctoring *
practising or experimenting —

re,

nere?”’
ractising

what we want!’’

 

 

 

 

 

 
‘

i a

—

nall
the

ACO;

 

 

 

 

   
 
   
    
   
 

 

 

 

 

 

‘all

tinge 2) but
Sheri? OUT journey this night,’’? said the

CGrooDp

NEWS.

   

 

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

OUT WITH-ROBIN HOOD:

Mhe Mery Outlaws of Sherwooi Fre

BY ALFRED ARMITAGE,

Author of “With Crusader and Saracen,” “In the
Days of the Gladiators,” ‘Loyal to Napoleon,’
and ‘The Fighting Lads of Devon.’

—_ + -—

(*OuT Wire Ropin Hoop” was commenced in
No, 288. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.)

o——

CHAPTER XIX.

IN WHICH FRIAR TUCK ACCEPTS THE SHER-
IFF’S INVITATION.

       

HE friar might have spared himself
2 needless alarm, for the long scrutiny
of Sheriff Tyler was due merely to
amazement.

ya?

{

i
“Ts it indeed you, most reverend abbot?’’

he finally gasped. ‘‘And what brings you
vack so speedily? I trust no ill hath befallen
you—but no, I count the full number of
your lay-brothers and retainers.’’
_ ‘Ay, here we all are,’’ cried Friar Tuck,
M tones of well-feigned passion, ‘‘but none
the less ill has befallen us, Master Sheriff.
Y blood boils within my veins to think of
© indignities and vile treatment we have
Suffered. If there is a law in England,.1
Yow it shall punish the knaves who dared to
Molest those wearing the sacred garb of the
ehurch,”?
“What mean you, holy sir??? demanded
the sheriff.
“Know you that vile dog of an outlaw,
Robin Hood?’’ sputtered the friar.
«D0 I know him?’’ cried the sheriff.
t Ay, only too well! I would gladly give a
housand pounds to get my hands on him.’’
nd I will add another thousand, if you
Will but stretch his neck on a gibbet,’’ ex-
Claimed the friar. ‘‘What crime think you
1S evil rogue hath now committed? As we
Were riding through Sherwood Forest yes-
Tday morning, shortly after we had left
®re, he and his men set upon us from am-
aoe, and did treat us most brutally. It
the my treasure they sought, and when
ley found only rubbish in the saddle-bags,
ey dragged us away to their den in the
rest. There they kept us over night, and

put an hour or two past did they give us

pur freedom, forbidding us on pain of death
Proceed farther toward Derby. So there
4S naught to do but return to Nottingham,
x have put off my visit to the bishop till
Reere favorable time. And hark you,
cet Sheriff, a force must speedily be
and to drag these robbers from their lair
hang them. Tis a shameful blot on the

“ace and justice of Norman England that
ce I

ch things should be.”?
bron © it is, holy sir,’’ cried the sheriff.
. mise you a body of soldiers sball be sent
ao Robin Hood and his band.
ena you can lead the way to the re-
The friar shook his head.
said & were taken there blindfolded,’’ he
ake | and brought away in the same man-
ten, nd it was a goodly distance.”’
robb, ° matter, ’’ declared the sheriff, ‘‘the
rs’ den shall be found, and they shall
ance speedily on air. You see now,
&nd abbot, how wisely I advised you to
your treasure in my keeping. But how
you Robin Hood got word of it??’
friar ® had a spy in the town,’’ replied the
may } This outlaw is a cunning rogue, and
have . trusted to know all that goes on
ack lad enough of him and shall iourney
ton Abb haste to my peaceful home at Mer-
om th ®y. Sol pray you load my goods
Here ic pumPter-mules, and we shall be off.
Not q 8 the receipt, of which I was luckily
“qe oiled by the knaves.’?
but ‘surely you will

Yéever,
fave
hink

“

not con-

Make ” a8 he took the paper. ‘You must
Hoog 2 Proper complaint against Robin
Notti,en? I will bring hither the Earl of
Castle.© amand the new governor of the
i 9, as you know, is Prince John
0 tarry here a few days, and you
Stow N€ whole band of robbers landed in
“Gla il Jail for punishment——”’
Vitation ¥ would I accept your gracious in-
“but a, interrupted the false abbot,
Mouth hy © leaned forward and put his

Me an he sheriff’s ear—‘‘but between
of rts Master Tyler, there is no secret
Ness ® John’s greed and unscrupulous-

the eg it be wise to let him ‘know of
surely — Tam carrying homeward? And
Cover 6.39 prying eyes and ears might dis-

(op SOeriff laughed and winked one eye.
Abbot,’’ he whispered, ‘‘you
It would not be wise, since the
all times ready to levy a tax on
for the’ But you will at least tarry with
iseq night—you and your men—as you
that you © on your return. ’Tis true
ttarg a come unexpected, but that
- My pantry is stored, and ‘my
my good wife will be
if she have not the

 

 

 

chance to entertain the holy abbot of Mer-
ton Abbey at her board.’’

‘*It would be unseemly of me to disap-
point so fair a lady,’’ the friar gallantly
replied; ‘‘but the truth is, Master Sheriff,
that we have an engagement to dine and
tarry this night with the Baron Eustace of
Fitzurse Castle.’

‘“This night?’’? exclaimed the sheriff.
‘‘Why, how comes that, when you counted
on being with the bishop at Derby?’?’

Consternation was visible on the faces of
all the party, and Friar Tuck trembled in-
wardly. But he suddenly remembered the
instructions of Robin Hood, which he had
forgotten at the moment, and a ready ex-
cuse came to his lips,

‘*Master Sheriff,’’ he replied, ‘‘my mind
was not made up to go on to Derby when I
saw the Baron Fitzurse the day before I
reached Nottingham. So then I made him
the promise, thinking to return speedily,
and should he learn that I tarried in Not-
tingham instead of coming on to his castle,
he would be sorely angered; nor would he
keep his word to give me asum of gold for
the church.”’

‘*Ay, I see,’? answered the sheriff, who
was quite satisfied with the explanation.
‘*But this much you can safely do, reverend
abbot. Stay here but long enough to dine
with me, and then ride on to Fitzurse Castle
for the spending of the night. My table
shall be properly spread in a brief time.’

Friar Tuck hesitated, sorely perplexed in
mind. He might have excused himself from
even this much, but the thought of sitting
down to such a feast as the sheriff was re-
nowned to give tempted him greatly.

‘*Robin Hood bade me stay should I be
strongly urged,’’ he said to himself, ‘‘and
should I insist on pressing forward at once,
it might lead to grievous consequences.’’
Having thus soothed his conscience, he
added, aloud: ‘‘So be it, Master Sheriff. It
would ill become me to refuse the hospitality
of one of thy rank and honor. We will tarry
then to dine, and within an hour or two we
shall resume our journey to the castle of the
Baron Fitzurse. But ere we dismount I
would have the treasure loaded on the
sumpter-mules, so that there may be no de-
lay at starting.’

‘*It shall be done, holy sir,’’ replied the
sheriff, ‘‘and at once.’’

He turned to enter the house, but the
friar called him back.

‘Master Tyler,’’ he whispered in his ear,
‘‘you will see to it that Prince John is not
summoned???

‘‘He shall know nothing of this matter
till to-morrow,’’ replied the sheriff. ‘‘And
now tarry here but a moment.”’

During the sheriff’s brief absence the dis-
guised outlaws waited in the saddle outside
the door, and none of them were quite easy
at mind save Friar Tuck. He was satisfied
that he had obeyed his instructions to the
letter, and he looked forward longingly to
satisfy his hunger and thirst.

‘‘There is naught to be feared,’ he said
to himself. ‘‘Ha! ha! what a cunning dog
Iam! ’Tis rare sport to fill the shoes of
the Abbot Fleming, and 1 shall carry the
part through in such a manner as shall
greatly please Robin Hood. No more will
he make me a butt for his jests.’’

Cedric was perhaps the most deeply wor-
ried membef of the party, for be feared lest
he should be invited to enter the sheriffs
house, and thus run great peril of recogni-
tion in a place that had more of dread than
amusing recollections for him. It gave him
some little comfort to see that no curious
people had gathered, and to observe that
the frequenters of the near-by inns were all
grouped outside.

‘Ts it likely that we also will be invited
indoors to dine?’’ he asked of his com-
panion-at-arms.

‘*Tt looks that way, lad,’’ replied George
a Green, ‘‘but we may not yet be certain.
The friar should have insisted on pushing
on, and still Iam minded not to blame him,
We shall have a good meal, and there is
slight chance of discovery—eyen for you,
who had such a perilous time in the sheriff’s
house with our captain. For I trow thou
art well disguised.’’

Cedric plucked . heart at this.

‘“*Tf Robin Hood be about,’’ he said, ‘‘I
shall feel satisfied that all will go well.’’

‘“‘Trust him to be here, lad,’’ replied
George a Green. ‘‘He will surely turn up in
some strange time and way—hist! the sheriff
is back !??

Just then the door opened wide, and
Sheriff Tyler appeared, followed by Stukely
the butler. Next came six of the sheriff’s
stout men, laden with bags of gold-pieces,
sacks of jewels and vases, and articles of
heavy plate wrapped around with cloth.
Friar Tuck and his fellow-outlaws watched
with greedy eyes as this vast treasure was
laden on the sumpter-mules.

‘*Pray see for yourself that all is here,’’
said the sheriff. ‘‘I would not have you find
any lacking, reverend abbot.’’

So the friar dismounted, and made a show
of looking over the prize. Then he opened
one of the bags and took out five gold-pieces.

‘*These for your pains,’’? he said, handing
them to the sheriff. ‘‘You have zealously
fulfilled the trust.’’

‘¢But you did promise me ten pieces, holy

9

 

   

42773

 

‘“*Ay, so I did,’’ exclaimed the friar. ‘‘I
have a sad memory.’’ He produced the rest
of the money, muttering to himself, as he
did so: ‘‘A murrain on the greedy knave!”’

‘*Now we will enter the house,’’ said the
sheriff, ‘‘and the meal will shortly be
spread——’?

‘“*Myself and lay-brothers will gladly sit
down to table,’’ interrupted the friar, ‘‘but
the two men-at-arms will stay here to guard
the mules,’’

‘“*Nay, let them all enter,’’ remonstrated
the sheriff; ‘‘they are trusty fellows, and as
there is little ceremony in my house they
may sit at table with us, if so be you do not
object.’

‘‘Not I,’’ replied the friar; ‘‘but all these
valuables——’’

‘‘Make your mind easy, holy sir,’’ said
the sheriff. ‘‘My six men shall remain here

?

to guard the treasure, and I will answer for |

it with my head that you find not a groat
missing when you come to start.’’

Friar Tuck did not dare to dispute the |

point, so he assented with as good a grace
as he could muster. Cedric, George a Green,
and the five lay-brothers dismounted, and
after turning over their horses to the care
of the sheriff’s men, the whole party en-
tered the house.

CHAPTER XX.

IN WHICH FRIAR TUCK’S THIRST IS TOO
MUCH FOR HIM.

\ HE sheriff had evidently given orders

% to his household as soon as the abbot’s |

t party arrived, taking it for granted
<7 that he could induce them to dine
with him. The guests were shown into the
hall, and their host bade them be seated on
benches and chairs. Several servants were
in attendance here, and others could be
heard bustling about behind the closed doors
of the dining-room, from which apartment
came also a rattle of dishes and pewter-
ware that made Friar Tuck’s eyes beam
with anticipation.

Presently towels and basins of water were
brought, and at the sheriff’s invitation the
travelers proceeded to wash. George a Green
and Cedric made but a pretense of this
operation, since both hada stain on their
faces. The lad’s fear had entirely vanished,

on finding that his identity was not sus- |

pected, and that very little attention was
paid to him. Twice he stared the butler full
in the eyes, and after that he looked for-
ward to the prospect with actual enjoyment.

When an opportunity presented itself Friar |

Tuck waddled over to Cedric and whispered
in his ear:

‘*Lad, is it all true what you told us that
first day you came to the green wood—I
mean concerning the delicious meats and
drinks you and Robin Hood did behold in
the sheriff’s pantry?’’

‘*Surely, sir,’’ replied Cedric; ‘‘there was
such a store there as even excelled the feast
that Little John did give us.”’

‘*Verily, that is saying much,’’ whispered
the friar. ‘‘Iltis good for a hungry and
thirsty man to sit; down to a well-spread
board. Alas, I may drink but a little for my
stomach’s sake, though to my eating Robin
Hood did ‘happily set no limit.’’

He waddled off again, smacking his lips,
and just then the sheriff’s wife made a tri-
umphant and imposing entry into the hall.
Mistress Tyler was. a late and _ portly
woman, with a face like a_ boiled lobster,
and a voice of exceeding shrillness. But to
her own belief—she was a most fascinating
and attractive woman.

She had great respect for rank, and es-
pecially for the dignitaries of the church.
It so happened that she had dined with the
Abbot Fleming a few months before, on
which occasion she was convinced she had
made a strong impression on him. So now,
hoping to complete the conquest, she had
attired herself in her choicest finery. Her
gown was of costly stuff, and a number of
jewels glittered on her fat neck and arms.

The poor friar conceived an aversion to
the woman at first sight, and this made the
part that he had to play all the barder. But
he conducted himself with the utmost gal-
lantry, greeting his hostess in a proper
manner, and responding to the remarks
which she fondly believed to be witty and
captivating. Finally she made mention of
their previous meeting, and at once the
friar was at a loss for words.

But at this critical moment the dining-
room doors were happily thrown open, and
the sheriff invited his guests to enter. Three
men and two maid-servants were drawn up
at the sides of the room, and the latter were
so pretty and buxom-looking that the friar
glanced at them with ill-concealed admira-
tion—which luckily was not observed by the
sheriff’s wife.

As the party a in Stukely showed
them to their places. The sheriff took one
end of the table, and at the opposite end sat
the false abbot, with Mistress Tyler close at
his right. The lay-brothers and men-at-arms
were ranged on the two sides, and George a
Green found himself but one seat removed
from the friar.

For a time the latter did nothing but stare
greedily at the table, which fairly groaned

:under the weight of all kinds of delicious

sir,’’ replied the sheriff, as he pocketed the} flesh, fowl, and fish, as well as other dainty

five.

dishes on which the sheriff’s wife prided

herself. But when the silence became em-
barrassing, the friar suddenly remembered
his duty, and in a low voice he asked a
benison on the food.

The meal now proceeded gravely, the
servants passing the dishes from place to
place, and filling the drinking-horns with
sparkling ale. Various church matters were
discussed, and the friar took care for a time
to keep the conversation in that same
channel,

But when wines of rare vintage were
broached and brought in his eyes began to
sparkle. Never to his recollection had he
been so intensely thirsty, and though he
vowed to take but two small glasses for his
stomach’s sake, he was soon drinking with
his accustomed zest. In vdin did George a

 

Green and the lay-brothers cast meaning
glances at him. He was blind to all remon-
strances and warning.

| As the fumes of tbe wine mounted higher

and higher to the friar’s head, the more
loose and worldly became his conversation,
|and the more gallantry did he display. His
|fat cheeks grew flushed, and he laughed
| heartily when there seemed to the others
| little or no occasion for mirth.

| All this delighted the sheriff, while at the
same time it surprised him greatly.

‘*By my faith!’’ he cried, ‘‘but I am half
minded to turn monk myself! Never did I
think that an abbot could be such good com-

| pany, though surely there is no reason why
; such should not unbend like other men when
| they are not busied with church duties.”’

| ‘*Surely not, good Master Sheriff,’? cried
the friar. ‘‘Ha! ba! I rarely enjoy such an
| occasion as this. And as for good company—
| why, I can hold my own with the best of
| the merry men——’’

| He stopped suddenly, being still sober
enough to realize what a mistake he had
nearly made. To cover his confusion he
filled a goblet with white wine and held it
aloft.

‘‘This is my favorite vintage,’’. he cried.
‘‘T shall drain every drop to thee, fair
|lady,’’ turning to Mistress Tyler, ‘‘and
| were I other than a pious churchman, I
| would turn knight and champion thy cause
| against the world.’’
| Mistress Tyler simpered with pleasure,
| but the sheriff, being a jealous man, looked
| decidedly sour.

‘*Your taste hath changed of late,’’ said
| the lady, as the friar emptied his glass and
| proceeded to fillit again. ‘‘Here is a flagon
|of the wine which you liked so much when
|last you sat at this board. ’Tis the best
Spanish sack, and I had it put at thy
place.’

: ‘‘Fair madame,’’ said the friar, ‘‘I admit
that my taste is apt to vary, as does a
woman’s heart. Surely a man may have
the same privilege.”’

Mistress Tyler blushed like a piece of red
flannel.

‘*For shame, holy sir!’’ she said, archly,
|as she bent nearer. ‘‘Now indeed do I need
a champion for my sex! And to think that
you should have put this affront upon me!”’?

‘‘Pray believe me, madame, I meant no
affront,’’ cried the friar, in haste. ‘‘Well
am I assured that thy heart canst never
change toward the object of its affections.
Nay, I did but jest for politeness sake. That
I drank the white wine was because I failed
to perceive the red. Truly Spanish sack is
my favorite, and well do I remember its
flavor on that night when last I sat at thy
generous board. I am minded to try it
again, though I fear Ido set but a poor
example fora pious abbot. Yet man lives
but once, and even a bishop might be par-
doned did he drink a drop too much on such
an‘occasion as this.’

With this Friar Tuck filled a goblet with
sack, and putting it to his lips, he never
stopped till it was empty.

‘*Ah, what a truly delicious flavor!’’ he
exclaimed. ‘‘The taste brings back our last
meeting, fair madame. Never can I forget
it. Your words that night flowed like sweet
honey, and your eyes were like rare jewels
in their brilliancy. Ay, and long did I
dream of thy ruby lips, as soft as velvet
and as fragrant as——’’

‘<The devil take this knave in the garb of
a holy man!’’ cried the sheriff, springing
from his seat with a face as black asa
thunder cloud, and clapping a hand upon
his sword. ‘‘Know you all,’’? he added,
turning to his guests, ‘‘that I was absent on
business in London at the time of which the
abbot speaks. Pretty doings must have
taken place here! Pray explain, madame!
How comes it you have been so free with
kisses that belong to your lawful husband?
a my head, abbot, I will draw blood for
this.

There was a brief and terrible silence.
The sheriff glared at his wife, who seemed
ready to drop with confusion. The lay-
brothers trembled on their seats, and Cedric
and George a Green exchanged glances of
fear and consternation.

But Friar Tuck was equal to the danger
and the realization of what he had sai
partly sobered him. He put down his glass,
and rose up with flashing eyes and a gravely
angry face. ;

‘*Ror shame, Master Sheriff!’ he thun-
deed. ‘‘This is unwarranted discourtesy to
thy guests. Know you not the flowery lan-
guage with which the dignitaries of the
church are wont to pay compliments to

 

 

 

  
such fair ladies as they wish to honor pub-
licly? That only was my intention, and
when | dined here last the conduct of thy
ood wife was as far above reproach as the
impress of Julius Caesar. You insult both
her and me, sir. Now make due and proper

apology, or so sure asI stand here I will |

put thee beyond the pale of church and re-
ligion.’?

‘*Ay, and the varlet well deserves it,’’
shrieked Mistress Tyler, losing temper at
the indignity to which her husband had sub-
jected her. ‘‘Do you hear, man? Make haste
quickly, lest I baste you from the room with
a stick in the presence of thy guests.”’

The sheriff was by this time quite over-
awed, and willing to believe that he had
made a mistake. So he muttered a few ab-
ject words of ‘apology, and sank back into
his seat. The friar was fond of hearing him-
self speak, and he was about to makea
fitting reply when a commotion was heard
in the hall. Then Stukely opened the door,
and announced, in a loud voice:

‘‘Master, a holy palmer from Palestine
hath arrived, and doth beg the boon of a
meal.”’

‘*A holy palmer !’’ cried the sheriff. ‘‘God
forbid that he go by hungry! Hereisa
welcome place for him. Bring him in,
Stukely.’’

The travel-worn -pilgrim quickly followed
the butler into the dining-room. From what
could be seen of his face he was an aged and
bearded man with wrinkles, and his back
was slightly bent. He wore a broad hat, a
hood and mantle of black cloth, and a pair
of coarse sandals. In one hand he carried
an iron-tipped staff.

With the reserve of his class he merely
nodded his head in greeting as he surveyed
the company, and uttered a brief blessing.
Then he gravely sat down at the place that
was made for him.

CHAPTER XXI.
IN WHICH THERE ARE SEVERAL SURPRISES,

HE servants heaped the palmer’s
trencher with food, and filled for him
a brimming beaker of ale. For a
time the man’s presence put a slight
restraint upon the company, but after he
had eaten and drunk, his sober demeanor
relaxed, and he began to take a part in the
- conversation.
‘Sir, how goes the war in
Land?’’ asked the sheriff.

“To the glory of God,’’ replied the
‘palmer. ‘‘Ere long the banner of the Infi-
dels shall be trailed in the dust.’’

‘* And whither art thou bound now?”’

‘*To visit a brother in Yorkshire, Master
Sheriff. I have come this day from Derby.’’

‘*from Derby?’’ joined in Friar Tuck.
‘* And did you see naught of the evil robbers
who infest Sherwood Forest?’’

The palmer shook his head.

‘*My garb is,a protection wherever I go,’’

the Holy

‘‘Truly I am distressed that this happened.

Stukely, do you rid us of the beast.”’

With a bit of meat the butler decoyed the
dog from under the table, and then kicked
it howling from the room. Cedric and
George a Green exchanged glances of satis-
faction at this fortunate ending to what had
threatened discovery. The sheriff leaned to-
ward the latter and whispered:

‘‘Sir, I fear your reverend abbot hath
taken a drop too much, and surely his
tongue doth run on foolish things.”’

‘‘It is a sad weakness he has,’’ George a
Green whispered back, ‘‘and one that he
doth display at times. I would advise you
to let him have no more wine.’’

‘‘And I am of the same mind,’’ inter-
rupted the palmer, with a frown of dis-
pleasure. ‘‘Verily, I like not to see a
churchman in his cups. And for one of his
high rank ’tis a sin and a shame.’’

‘*Never would I have believed such things
of the Abbot Fleming!’’ muttered the scan-
dalized sheriff to himself, and straightway
he gave orders in private to his servants
that the friar should have no more to drink.
The palmer now turned the talk on the Cru-
sades, and for some time the company con-
versed in this strain.

Friar Tuck’s condition was such that he
did not observe the wine to have been taken
away from him. With his empty beaker
lurching from side to side in his grasp, he
leaned back in the chair, pretending to listen
with an air of interest to what was being
said, and occasionally smiling en Mistress
Tyler. That fair lady, however, had ceased
her coy wiles and ogles, and her respect for
ee Fleming had dwindled exceed-
ingly.

Peis one of the serving-maids leaned
over the two, and the tipsy friar, who
dearly loved a maiden, chucked her under
the chin, at the same time upsetting the
platter of meat that she carried onto his
own mantle.

‘Out of the room, you hussy!’’ shrieked
Mistress Tyler. ‘‘For shame, holy sir!’’ she
added. ‘‘You surely forget yourself !’’

‘*Where did you say you got her?’’ mum-
bled the friar. ‘‘Ay, she is a buxom wench,
but not to be compared with yourself,’’ and
with that he chucked Mistress Tyler under
her fat chin in the same manner.

With a screech of rage, she slapped the
friar full across the nose, nearly knocking
him from his seat. Up jumped _ the sheriff,
and ripped out a mighty oath.

**By my head, no more will I endure,’’ he
cried. ‘Throw this drunken knave out, neck
and crop, else surely I will——”’

The sheriff had no time to finish his
threat, for just then the door was thrown
suddenly open, and on the threshold of the
dining-room appeared the Baron Eustace
Fitzurse, looking terribly haughty and fierce
as he surveyed the assembled company.

‘*T have conie uninvited,’’ he gried, in his
blustering and arrogant voice, ‘‘but you
will pardon the intrusion, Master Sheriff. I
have heard that the Abbot Fleming and, his

GooD NEwsS.

A silence fell on the party, and the lay-
brothers and the men-at-arms made a half
motion to rise. Before any could speak foot-
steps were heard in the hall, the door opened
again, and in rushed Wat Flambard himself.
His head was bleeding from two wounds,
and his eyes snapped with passion.

‘*Blackbeard !’’ cried the baron. ‘‘Man, I
have just been seeking you.’’

‘*And I am here, master,’’ shouted Flam- |

bard, who was indeed the ruffianly steward
in a shaven disguise. ‘‘I have just escaped
with my life from Sherwood Forest—escaped
in time to denounce this cunning trick.
Know you that these guests of the sheriff
are all imposters? They are members of
Robin Hood’s band, and yonder holy abbot

is that recreant friar of the name of Tuck! |

Seize them! Let none get away——”’

Just then the palmer jumped to his feet
and threw off his mantle, revealing beneath
a suit of Lincoln green. He snatched a bugle
that hung at his side, and blew a single
blast that echoed far beyond the house.

“Up and at them, my merry men!’’ he
cried, swinging his iron-tipped staff. ‘‘Now
for the door, and outside we will find our
friends in waiting.’’

, (TO BE CONTINUED.)
a 8
[This Story Will Not Be Published in Book-Form. }

NEKA, KING OF FIRE:

Wy

A Mystery of the Variety Stage

BY MANAGER HENRY ABBOTT,
Author of ‘A Footlight Favorite.”
(“NEKA, KING OF FIR®,” was commenced in No.
295. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.)

CHAPTER XII.
NEKA’S BRAVE DEED.

v
7S NLY a few ae in the armory saw
> the youthful King of Fire make the
daring leap from the rear window of
4~ the theatre to the building in which
the excitement was going.on. The young
bahay in flames commanded the attention

of all.

Strange to say, none of her friends ran in
to her assistance. Hither they were too
scared or too afraid to make the first move
toward affecting a rescue.

The instant that Neka landed on the
armory floor he madea wild rush for the
woman’s form, now fairly enveloped in fire.

‘Look out, young man!”’

‘‘Mary Breston will be burned to death !’?

‘*The armory will be burned down!’?

‘tIsn’t this awful!’ |

Then of a sudden the crowd became silent

‘and her. face and neck remained entirely
uninjured.

Doctor Breston received Neka with a4
warm shake of the hand, and then turned to —
his daughter.

‘‘This is the brave young man who saved
your life, Mary,’’ he said.

The young woman eyed Neka eagerly,
then started and blushed. She recognized
him and remembered how she had ill-treated
him.

‘‘And it was you!’’ she exclaimed, ina
low voice. ‘‘You! What can you think of
me?’?’

And she began to cry.
‘‘Why, Mary!’’ ejaculated the doctor.
‘‘Have you met this brave young man be-
fore?’’ ,
‘‘He came to the fair night before last,
father, and I, knowing he was one‘ of the
actors belonging to that show which was
going to perform in opposition to US,
snubbed and cut him all I could.’? She -
turned to Neka. ‘‘Oh, I hope you will for-
give me. I was very rude.’’ C
‘*Certainly I'll forgive you,’’ responded
Neka, melting all in a moment. ‘‘I suppose —

you felt cut by our coming to town.’

we could to make your visit to the fair un-
pleasant.’ ;

‘‘That wasn’t right, Mary,’’ put in her —
father. ‘‘The theatrical company had a full —
right to come to town if they wished. Their —
business is a legitimate one.’’

‘*T know it, father, and I am very sorry.

‘‘Let us drop it,’’ interrupted Neka.
hope you are not much hurt,’’ he went OD; —
kindly. :

‘‘No, thanks to you, I escaped almost
totally.
would have been burned to death!’’

And the young woman shuddered.

‘* Yes, that is true,’’ said the doctor.
owe you a world of gratitude, Mr.——

‘*My name is Neka, sir.’’

‘*Ah, your stage name.’’

‘‘The only one I have.’’

‘*Tndeed !’’
but said no more on the point just then,
‘*Your fire tricks stood you in good stead.

There was a slight pause, and the doctor
looked at his daughter.

‘*T want to thank you from the bottom of
my heart,’’? said Mary Breston, earnestly:
| ‘You saved my life, and I will never forge’

it, never. I heard you were about to leave
Before you go won’t you accept this

4

”

 

| town,
jasaslight token in remembrance of
| brave service to me?’’

| She brought out a leather case and handed

it to Neka. The lid flew back, revealing?

| gold watch and chain within. .
| The watch was undoubtedly a costly 008
|and the boy’s face flushed with pleasure:
| But then he shook his-head slowly. oa

‘*T don’t deserve this,’’ he said.

‘*But you do—and a good deal more,” ae
said Mary Breston. ‘‘Do not refuse my 81);

It is but a poor return for your gallant act.

‘*Yes, you must take the watch and chain

‘‘T did, and we girls promised to doall —

But if it hadn’t been for you, + —

66 We ‘ mt

The doctor looked curious, —

ey i

2

your |

as the people saw Neka catch the young | by all means,’* added her father.
woman by the waist and throw her down on | __A little more talk followed, and
the floor. | Neka accepted the beautiful gift. B

arty are here, and I’ would speak with
im.??
‘*Yonder he sits, most noble baron,’’ re-

finally . a
ie ¥ a

he answered,
‘*Nay, but yonder abbot found it not so,’’

eried the sheriff, ‘‘for verily he and his
band did fall into the power of that knave
- Robin Hood.’’

‘And all the more shame to you and to
_England!’’ exclaimed Mistress Tyler. ‘‘To
think that this holy man should have suffered
such indignities!’

She turned on the abbota gianice that was
' meant to be full of compassion.

‘*Pair lady, thy sympathy is ample atone-
ment for my mishap,’’? mumbled the friar,
in a thick and husky voice, ‘‘and thy excel-
lent husband hath promised to take and
hang these wicked outlaws.’?

‘Promised, has he?’’ sniffed Mistress Tyler.
‘‘T know his promises, the lazy varlet. He
will do no more than he hath ever done—
and that is nothing at all. Since what he p-
pened here lately he trembles at the very
name of Robin Hood.”’’

‘‘Peace, madame!’’ the sheriff -eried,
angrily. ‘‘Now this is too much. Pray
bridle your tongue in the presence of guests.
Were Robin Hood but here I would show
_ you if I tremble at his name. And the
_ promise made to the abbot shall be kept—
speedily will I take and hang every outlaw
_ of the band.’’ :
 **Ay, that’s the proper talk,’’? exclaimed

the friar, whose wits were badly muddled
by a beaker of wine that he had just poured
down. ‘‘Did you say you would join the
band, Master Sheriff? Naught can compare
with the jolly life in the green wood. Here’s

_ to Robin Hood and his merry men! Long

at they flourish and——’’
The friar got no further, for just then
George a Green gave him a sound kick from
_under the table. With a howl of pain, he
jumped up from his seat, dancing about on
one i while he clasped the other in both
_ his hands. The lay-brothers rolled their eyes
_ with horror, and the sheriff and his wife
looked on with consternation and suspicion.
_ **Now that was a foul blow,’’ whimpered
the friar, ‘‘and well delivered on the shim
I shall be lame for a week.’
 ‘*Did it feel like a bite, reverend sir?’’
; ate the sheriff, as a sudden thought struck
him,

3 ‘tAy, it might have been that,”’ answered

he friar. ‘‘Is there a dog yonder?” ,
One of my hounds hath crept under the
table to wait for tit-bits,’’ said the sheriff.

h

 

plied the sheriff, whose wrath had now
cooled, ‘‘and I = you will grant me nar-
don for detaining him here when he was to
dine this night with you.”’

‘‘To dine with me?’’ exclaimed the baron,
ina tone of surprise. -‘‘Ay, I remember,
Yes, you are pardoned, Master Sheriff.’’ To
himself he added: ‘‘This is but a pretext
given by the abbot for some reason. He
must have a good motive, and so 1 will
screen him,’’ Ideas” Tees :

The baron now erEecens the friar, and
bending over him, he whispered in his ear,

The lay-brothers and the two men-at-arms

watched and waited anxiously, alarm and
consternation pictured on their faces,
palmer also leaned forward to listen in a
most attentive manner. sree.

‘Speak louder, my good fellow,’’ mum-
bled Friar Tuck, who plainly did not know

who was addressing him; ‘‘my hearing is

bad.’’
The baron uttered a growl of vexation.

‘Holy sir,’? he repeated, in an audible
whis er, ‘‘T ask you how my messenger

fared?’
‘‘What messenger?’’ muttered the friar.
‘‘Why, the man I[ sent alon

pays of course. Where is he?
ring him back with you?”’

‘*We are all here,’’ said the friar. ‘*Count

and make sure.’’

‘*But m
baron. ‘‘I donot see him at table.
have you done with him?’’

cleared a little.
side, and recognized his questioner.

‘*What man do you seek, my lord baron?’’
he muttered. ‘‘Tell me his name.’’

‘‘Wat Flambard,’° the baron cried, sharp-

ly. ‘*Where is he?’’
‘Oh, ay, you mean Wat Flambard,’’ re-

plied the friar, scratching his head in be-
‘“There he sits,’? and he

look at the dis-
purple

wilderment.
pointed to George a Green.

The baron took one keen
guised outlaw, and bis face turned
with rage. |

‘*What means this foolery?’’ he thundered.
“The fellow is
Flambard at all\’’

é

The

with your
id you not

man is not here,’’ exclaimed the
What

By this time it had dawned ou the friar
that something was wrong, and his brain
He turned his head to one

 

 

a stranger—’tis not Wat

‘‘Water—a rug—coat—anything!’’ called
out the boy. ‘‘Be quick, somebody !’’

As he spoke he took his bare hands and
dashed out the fire that was mounting to the

oung woman’s face. The preparation he

ad used for his tricks now stood him in
good stead, for he remained uninjured.

Soon a wet curtain was flung to him and

a coat followed. He threw these over the |

victim and rolled her over, Then two men

came to his assistance, and before the

crowd could fairly recover from its shock, |

the fire was out so far as it was confined to
the young woman. The stand that was
burning was then pulled down and also ex-
ae

he young’ woman was unconscious and
was carried to the parlor of the armory and
laid upon a couch. Soon her father, the
doctor; came, along with another physician.
They worked over her constantly for an
hour, when she was pronounced out of
danger and taken home in a coach.

In the meantime Neka returned to the
theatre, and so did that part of the audience
which had left at the first cry of fire. The
show had been sadly interrupted, but the
performers did their best, and the audience
went away at the conclusion well satisfied,

‘‘Are you hurt at all, my son?’’ asked
Longfellow Wadsworth, anxiously, as soon
as he got the chance to address the boy
privately.

‘*Not a bit,’? laughed Neka. ‘‘I was just
in trim to fight fire: If the accident had to
happen; it could not have chosen a better
time.”’

On the following morning, while Neka
and the others were at breakfast, a message
was handed to the boy. Te ras from Doctor
Robert Breston, and asked Neka to call at
his residence that morning ‘if possible, or,
at least; before leaving town.

Neka was on a stand about going. He had
not forgotten how Mary Breston had snubbed
him. He was inclined to leave the saved girl
and ber parent severely alone.

But Longfellow Wadsworth and Bindley
urged him to answer the message, and final-
ly he walked over to the doctor’s home,
ar a few blocks away.

ary Breston lay on a couch in the
sitting-room. Her burns were but slight,

i

‘time Mary Breston looked fatigued, 8?
ishaking her by the hand, Neka withdrew
from the room.
Doctor Breston followed him to the parlor.
He was becoming interested in th .
and modest boy, and could not forbear 10.
ask Neka a number of questions concermng
himself. Before they parted he knew 4 80
bit of the boy’s past history. :
‘‘A curious tale, truly,’’ he said. t
trust you have no further trouble with ber f
Bambo, and some day find out the whole’
truth of your parentage.’’ he
But even as Doctor Breston spoke thus a
never dreamed of the important part he W
to play in establishing Neka’s identity
on. oD
It may be said here that Mary Brest,
recovered from her injuries insid
weeks and was then as well as ever.
never forgot the brave Jad who saved Px
life and made her so ashamed of her UDB" —
conduct toward him. i

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SPECIALTY COMPANY GETS A R
_2,
{x

FE

they billed the town for a three-0!
stand. 9 ae
Our first venture at remaining more ©
one night,’’? remarked Neka; ‘‘!
how it will pan out.’’ (
“Tell better after the third 4
laughed Bindley. ‘‘if business 15 ory you
oe ee nights, it ought to #} ;
uite a lift. ds
; ‘*We must expect some sot-backs,””, PM an
the secant “We cannot expect re
to shine all the time.’’ Sik oh
‘*The trouble is, we are not strong ened “
yet to stand much of a set-back,”’ ™ ons are
eka, thoughtfully. ‘‘Our expenses Mae
over a hundred and twenty dollar 4
business would about wipe out our CaPip;,
‘Never mind, don’t worry,” S#° ~~

ley. . : sas
tHe was always cheerful, and his pe™P™
good-humor was contagious. =

IVAL-

went to Washingtonville. Long

Wadsworth had wired a

night.”

 

“sy a

42; *
ta

e brav® —

*

e of several
ber |

ROM Cambron, Neka and bis tries a

head and 8°
cured a small but cozy theatres ts"

wonder

the aq

 
~~

,

eine

Py

cen acoT?

NEWS.

A775

 

_ Neka wondered what had become of Daniel
Bambo, but heard nothing concerning the
proprietor of the Greatest Aggregation on
the Globe.

On the evening of the first night in Wash-

ingtonville a cold rain set in about six:

o’clock, and by seven it was pouring stead-
ily. The lamp in front of the little theatre
flickered dismally in the downpour, and the
pavement was all but deserted.

‘*No audience to-night,’’ said Longfellow
Wadsworth, as he walked up and down in-
side the entrance, anxiously. ‘‘ You couldn’t
hire country folks to come out in the wet.
ay, are more afraid of it than city peo-

**Here are an audience of two, anyway,’’
said Neka, as a pair of young men came in.

They shook the water from their um-
brellas, strode up to the door and presented
—free passes !

With downcast face}
worth let them in. The pair, all alone in
the body of the theatre, looked uncomfort-
able and did not dare to crack the peanuts

had brought along.

vey
Re ive minutes passed, and.a man drifted

_ in. He paid a quarter and joined the lonely
pair within, and: the three began a whis-

ilities of the show being postponed.

‘‘This is awful!’’ groaned the elocutionist.

‘‘Twenty minutes to eight,’’ replied Neka.
“Let us keep up our courage.’’

Ten minutes passed, and not another soul
came in. \ Longfellow Wadsworth heaved a
deep sigh and retired to the ticket office to
Seek consolation out of his pocket-flask.

But then matters began to brighten just a

- Wee bit. Three big boys came in, followed

i ete conversation concerning the proba-
4

by acouple of young men with their best

girls. They had hardly procured tickets

_ When a loud fish-horn sounded outside, and

a big covered stage drove up.

“This here crowd is from Goose Run,’’
®xplained one tall, lanky youth, who ap-
peared to be in charge. ‘‘We wuz bound ter

_ come, rain or no rain, an’t that so, Sally?’’

**Thet’s so, Joel,’’? was the reply, from a
comely young woman within the stage.

__ There were eighteen people in the stage,
And this made twenty-eight folks all told to
_ See the show. :

__As the stage stood at the door Neka was
Struck by a sudden idea. He ran in to talk

it over with Longfellow Wadsworth.

-.*‘P’ve a good mind to take that stage and
drum up an audience,’’ he said. ‘‘I think

_ We can get folks to come if we bring them

ay @ss the entertainment.

_ their power.

i

wa

“as
bet
% Sot Pianist was pounding out lively airs,

, un all over

the th

Faas
for

ere free,”’

_*‘*But the stage will cost money, my son,
and as it is now——’’

“Pll give the driver five cents for every
Person he brings to the theatre.’’

_ ‘*Well, go ahead and do as you please.’

_ This settled, Neka called on indley to
Come along. Then the driver of the big
turn-out was appealed to.

_*‘Five cents fer every person I fetch in,
eh??? he mused. ‘‘All right, I’ll go ye!”

A big fish-horn remained in the stage,
4nd this the two appropriated, and off they
_ Started with a flourish.

ey drove up and down half a dozen of
the principal streets of the town, and while

“eka blew on the horn, Bindley stood by

the rear step, shouting out that they were

80ing to the theatre, and the stage was free
any one that wanted to go along.

f ® idea caught the fancy of the town

olks, especially those who had thought to

rie In ten san

Stage was packed and on its way to the
theatre: . y

Two more trips were made. In the mean-

™e others came in on foot, and by twenty

a nutes past eight the audience numbered

“'ose to a hundred people.

ot an extra large crowd,’’ said 'Neka,
© counted them. ‘‘But it’s a guod deal
ter than only thirty or forty.”’

. those in the theatre were growing im-
teens so, without farther delay, Long-
; low Wadsworth went on the stage and
Sr’ one of his best humorous recitations.
Ye is put the people in good humor, and the
ner of the entertainment passed off
h great success. :

; s axe ough the audience was limited, Neka

the others gave the best exhibition in
i During the course of the show
whey came out in a quaint monologue, in
are he mentioned the fact that, should it
n the next evening, free stages would
the town to bring folks to the
menti.’ and he trusted the audience would
: Thien this to all of their friends. _
ate eect was well received, and it was
Mieke tT hing that it was made, for the next
Sht it rained as hard as ever. True to the
th 8 three stages were procured, each
a banner-outeide, and these brought to
Detw eatre over a hundred and fifty people
Yorn Seven and eight o’clock.
‘et even the free stages did not give them
tone audience, and when the receipts
tonville rst and second nights in Washing-

were counted up, they were still}

eoree twenty dollars behind.
cere we would catch it some time,”’
(cop the elocutionist, dismally.
Plied ®nty dollars is not such a loss,’ re-
ght eka. ‘Remember, we have another
ae count on,.??

to
ut tf looks as

if it would rain for a
> my son.’? : \ ;

é
ne 4 \

Longfellow Wads- |

 

‘*Oh, no, it will clear to-night, mark my
word.’?

Neka was right. By midnight the storm
shifted, and on the following morning the
sun arose as bright as ever.

On the day previous Bindley had brought
word in that a rival specialty company was
in the vicinity and intended to come to
Washingtonville either that night or the
next. At breakfast Neka heard that the
rivals were already located at a hall on the
next block.

Curious to learn something about them,
the boy strolled oif in the direction.

He soon reached the hall, and in front, on

the bill-board, saw a flaring poster that took |

him completely by surprise:

HENRY MAUL’S SPECIALTY CO.
The Finest in the World!
No Fake Show can compare to it!
See Henry Maul, King of Jugglers!
See the Wonderful Trick Pony, Stump!
See the Windoms, Joe and Jennie!
The Finest Child Mimics on the Stage!
Lowest Price! Best Show!

‘*Henry Maul!’’ read Neka. ‘‘It must be
Hank Maul who drove for Bambo! It is, for
there he mentions Stump, the trick pony.
Bambo’s circus must have been sold out,
and Maul took the pony for back salary. I
wonder who Joe and Jennie Windom can
be? I never heard of them. If that last line
isn’t cheeky, to say the least !"’

Neka was about to pass on when a shrill
ery of pain attracted his attention.

‘Stop! stop! ‘Don’t whip me any more!
Please don’t!’

It was a girlish voice which uttered the
ery. It came from the interior of the hall.

‘Shut up, you whelp!’’ was the reply, in
the well-known and rough voice of Hank
Maul, the ex-circus driver. ‘‘You’ll do as
I want you to, or I'l] break every bone! in
your skinny body !’’

CHAPTER XV.
THE COMPANY IS ENLARGED.

EKA knew what a _ hard-hearted
wretch Hank Maul was; consequent-
ly his blood fairly boiled with indig-

+ nation when he beard the words
given above.

‘*The scoundrel !’’ he murmured to him
self. ‘‘It sounds as if he was whipping a
defenseless girl!’’

Without further hesitation, the boy dashed
into the hall building. A narrow passage-
way led to a door opening upon the wing of
the stage, and to this he made his way. He
flung open the door. z

A sight met his gaze that caused his in-
dignation to increase, if such a thing was
possible. *

There in the centre of the otherwise
empty stage stood Hank Maul, and in his
savage clutch was a slim-built fil of not
more than twelve yeays of age. The girl was
thinly clad, and the ex-circus driver had
been beating her over the shoulders with a
short, black whip. .

‘*Now do it,’’ he said. ‘‘Do
you another taste of the lash.’’

‘‘T can’t! I'll break my neck!’’ pleaded
the girl,

With a frightful oath, Hank Maul raised
the whip to strike the poor creature over
the tend. "

But before the blow could descend Neka
sprang in, caught the whip away and hurled
it into a corner.

‘‘Let her alone, Hank Maul!’’ he cried,
with flashing eyes. ‘‘You are a big, over-
grown brute to strike a girl like that!’’

‘“Neka!’? The man stepped back in amaze-
ment, ‘‘What brought you here?’’ he de-
manded, fiercely.

‘*T heard the girl’s cries from the street.
You sha’n’t beat ber any more.’’

_**Won’t I??? sneered the man.
for you to say !’’

‘Tt is for me to say, Hank Maul.
her alone.’’

For the girl had attempted to retreat be-

hind Neka,. and Maul had caught her fierce-
ly by. the arm.
\ Git out of here; Neka, or I’ll-—-I’l!l wipe
up the floor with you!’’ howled the ex-
driver, fairly beside himself with rage.
‘‘Because you belong toa rival show you
can’t come here and boss me.”’

‘““The show business has nothing to do
‘vith this matter,’’ responded the boy, as
calmly as he could. ‘‘Leave the gir] alone.”’

At that moment.a light step was heard
outside, and a boy came in, He was about
a year older than the girl, and the pair
looked very much alike. As a matter of
fact, they were Jce and Jennie Wiadom,
the child mimics mentioned on the mam-
moth hand-bill outside. ' 4

“Oh, Joe!’ faltered the girl, breaking
from Maul and rushing to her brother.

‘‘What’s the trouble now, Jennie? Has he
been trying to beat you again???’ /

ae s :

‘*Tt’s not

Leave

‘‘See here, Mr. Maul, J won’t stand——’?’
began Joe Windom.

‘Shut up!’’ howled the manager of the
rival specialty company. :

‘*Are you the boy put down as Joe Win-
dom?’’ asked Neka.

oy, J

‘Ts this your sister?’’ |

‘*Yes, Who are you?’’

Go to No Other! |

it, or I'll give:

‘‘T am Neka, the Fire King.’’

‘*Oh 1?

‘*] heard your sister crying for help and
came in. Has this brute any claim on you?’’

‘*No.’

‘*T have!’’ yelled Maul, black with pas
sion. ‘‘You git out now, an’ quick!”’

‘*T won’t let you abuse these children,’’
said Neka. ‘‘If you beat that girl again, I'l
notify the authorities,”’

‘‘Oh, Joe, let us leave
pleaded Jennie Windom.
| hasn’t paid us a cent yet.’’
| ‘:] paid your board for
| growled Hank Maul, sullenly.

What Neka had said about informing the
authorities made him come down in_ his
demands.

‘‘That wasn’t much.’’

‘<It was enough.’’

‘*T know Hank Maul of old,’’ put in Neka.
‘‘He was a brute and stillis. If be has no
claim on you, 1 advise you to leave him
without delay.’’

“The trouble is, we don’t know where to
go,’’? whispered Joe Windom. ‘‘We haven’t}|
any money.’’ |

‘*T will help you all I can,’’ said Neka.
‘*Where did you come from?’’

‘«The Clara Peal Specialty Company that
went to pieces in Battleville. We were
stranded, and Maul asked us to join his new
company, which is nothing but a fake.’’

While Joe Windom was speaking Maul ran
to the corner and again secured his whip.

‘*1°1l]_ teach you to talk about me!’’ he
cried, and struck at Joe Windom.

Again Neka caught hold of the whip. A
fierce fight ensued, which ended when Joe
Windom sprang in. Between them the boys
knocked Maul! flat on his back.

‘Run for it, Jennie!’’ panted her brother.
And at once the girl took to her heels, and
then the boys were not slow in following,
leaving Hank Maul to pick himself up as |
best he might.

At the corner below the three came to-
gether, and Neka invited the Windoms over
to his own theatre. Here he introduced
them to Longfellow Wadsworth and Bindley.

From the brother and sister it was learned
that they were orphans with no one to de-
pend on but themselves. Their father had
been an actor and had died on the road, and
their mother had been dead since they were
very young. They had an uncle up in Bos-
ton, but he was poor and hard-hearted, and
had written to them that he could do noth-
ing to help them.

The pair had been taught to mimic a
dozen or more well-known characters, such
as a countryman, an old soldier, a dude,
and the like, and at Wadsworth’s suggestion
they went through their act. They had no
stage dresses, yet created a decidedly favor-
able impression.

‘‘What do you think of them?’ asked
Neka, as he called the elocutionist aside.
‘Could they be drilled into doing something |
worth putting on the bills???

“T think so,’’ replied Longfellow Wads-
worth. :

‘*T would like to take them in. Perhaps
the girl could assist me in some fire tricks.’’

‘‘T can play the banjo, too,’’? put in Joe
Windom. ‘‘Can’t you make a place for us in |
your organization?’’ '

Neka looked at Wadsworth, and then and
there it was decided to take the orphans in.

This afterward proved’a good move, for
not only did the mimic turn take well, but
Jennie helped Neka in several tricks, Joe
played a solo on the banjo, aud with five
members they were able to put a little one-
act farce on their bills as a wind-up every
night, and this was more than me Dar

“We're getting there gradually,’’ said
Bindley. ‘‘By the time we reach New York
we'll be a full-fledged company.’’

Bindley was very proud of one thing Neka
had done. This was to insert his name on
the hand-bills as stage manager.

But Bindley deserved it. He had said he
would work like a car-horse for success,
and he was keeping his word. He got up
innumerable advertising dodges, and each
one of them counted in the receipts.

It must not be supposed that Hank Maul
took peacefully to the scene which had
transpired at the hall be had hired. That
afternoon he called at the theatre and had a
long and warm discussion with Neka and
Wadsworth.

‘*7]] have you arrested !
damages!’’ he fumed.

“The best thing you can do is to keep
quiet,’’ remarked Longfellow Wadsworth.
‘Tf you say too much, we’ll get Jennie
Windom to make a complaint against you.’’

With the Windoms gone, Maul had only
himself and the trick pony left. He could
not give his show, and consequently sought
to leave Washingtonville withdut paying for
either hall or hotel accommodations.

But the town people were too sharp for
him. They stopped him and. attached the
pony and his trunk. Then he was compelled
to pay both the bills and the costs of the
attachments.

He left Washingtonville feeling very bitter
toward Neka and his friends.

‘*T’]] git square with ’em!’’ he growled to
himself, more than once. ‘‘I’li get square if
it costs me my life!”’ {

It will not be long before we learn of |

Mr. Maul,’’
‘*Remember, he

 

two days,’’

I’Jl sue you for

 

 

what attempts he made to ‘‘git square,’’ as
he termed it,

The Neka-Wadsworth Company now had
the field in Washingtonville entirely to
themselves, and as the night proved clear,
the final performance in that town wasa
big success. The local paper, the County
Clarion, gave them a fine notice, and this
helped fill every seat in the little theatre.

‘Victory after all, my son!’’ cried Long-
fellow Wadsworth, after the performance
was over. ‘‘Two wet nights and still twenty-
eight dollars ahead of the deal.”’

This was not a large amount, but it was
better than running behind, and they were
correspondingly thankful.

From Washingtonville the combination, as
Bindley always called it now, struck into
Connecticut and then over into New York
State. In the meantime Joe and Jennie
Windom were well drilled into their parts
and made their appearance. They madea
hit, and Neka and Wadsworth were more
pleased than ever for having taken them in
charge.

The first snow of the winter found them
at a town on the Hudson called Woolskill.
There had not been a show in the place for
three weeks, and the prospects were that
they would havea big house for the two
nights they intended to remain there.

Since the night it had rained and Long-
fellow Wadsworth had sought consolation
from his black flask Neka had done his_ best
to get the elocutionist to give up his drink-
ing habits. This had been hard work, but
he had partly succeeded, as Wadsworth had
not drank a drop for over two weeks.

‘*You can trust me, Neka,’’ he said. ‘‘I
won’t drink any more. Fact is; I never was
a very hard drinker. Only take an eye-
opener and a night-cap once in a while,
that’s all.’’

The company: had been making money
right along, and they now bad nearly four

| hundred dollars to their credit. This amount

bad been exchanged at various banks for —

ten and twenty-dollar bills, and Longfellow

Wadsworth carried the amount in a flat

package, sewed up in an inside pocket of his

vest.

On the afternoon of the day they arrived
in Woolskill all hands went to the theatre
which had been hired by the elocutionist.

‘‘T have a friend in business here,’’ he
said. ‘‘Tom Marcy, a furniture dealer. I
want to call on him. I’ll be on hand at six
o’clock.’’

Nothing was thought of this, as one or —
annie often went off in the same way.
But when six o’clock and half-past came,
and Longfellow Wadsworth did not show ©
up, Neka and Bindley became anxious.

‘*T’ll call at Marcy's furniture store and
see if he’s there,’’ said Neka. ;

The establishment in question was but a
few blocks away. Arriving there, Neka —
stated his errand. fs

‘‘Why, Mr. Wadsworth left about half- —
past five,’’ said the eens ‘*We talked ©
over old times, had a drink, and then he
said he would have to get back to the
theatre.”’

‘*Where did you leave him?’? *

‘¢ At the corner below, on the other side.’’

The corner mentioned was occupied by a
saloon. Neka walked in the direction, and
bis heart began to fail him. Was it possible
Longfellow Wadsworth had given way to his
appetite for strong liquor?

He looked into the saloon and found it
empty. This was some satisfaction. 4
‘*Lookin’ fer anybody, boss?’’ asked a
bootblack stationed near. és
‘“Yes,’’ replied Neka, and described the

elocutionist to the street urchin. |

‘‘T saw der gent, boss. He was with M
Marcy first.’’

‘‘That’s the man.
on???

, ‘* Yer bet I did.”’
‘*Where?’’ os 4
‘‘Down near der river, in front of Dan

Humbolt’s saloon. He was wid er couple 0’

slick-lookin’ coves, an’ he was as full as a

tick. It looked ter me like der slick-lookin

coves had it in fer him, fer da was leadin’
him down a side street.’’ F ;

Neka gave a groan. Longfellow Wads-
worth had gone and become intoxicated in —
spite of all warnings. What of the large
amount of money he carried? Was it still —
safe? f

Did you see him later

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—___~+- 0-2
DECEIVED BY THE NEWSPAPERS. |
When Theodore Hook went to the corona
tion, it is recorded that he set to work to
bamboozle a couple of old ladies from the —
country. When the bishops came in, he told
them that these were ‘‘the peeresses in their
own right,’? and when the lord chancellor
appeared, he said it was Cardinal Wolsey.
In this way be went too far, for one of

them observed: .
‘“‘We may -be simple, sir, but we know
that Cardinal Wolsey has been dead these
many years.”’ ee , ae
‘‘Ladies,’’? he said, ‘‘you have been de-
ceived by the newspapers; they will say
anything.’’ ; ‘3
patie 4
Mamma (raising the slipper) —‘‘ Willie
son—— 4
illie—‘‘Ob, spank away, mamma, but
don’t give me that old thing about it’
hurtin’ you worse’n it hurts me.’? aig

 
ISSUED WEEKLY.

NEW YORK, JANUARY 25, 1896.

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Contents of this Number.

Bap SERIAL STORIES.

_ “The Son of Old Nick,” by Vietor St. Clair.

_ “Gay Dashleigh’s Academy Days,” by Ar-

thur Sewall,

“Neka, King of Fire,” by Manager Henry

ey Abbott.

©Out With Robin Hood,” by Alfred Ar-

mitage. ;

“Don Kirk’s Mine,” by Harry Danger-
field.

“Overhead Steve,” by Emerson Bell.’

sf “ “Yankee Boys in Japan,” by Enrique H.

, Lewis.

“Dot Poy Hans,” by ‘*Peter.”

SHORT STORIES,
“Christmas at the Point.”

‘Harry Kean’s First Case,” by Victor St.
“Sports and Pastimes of Other Lands.”

REGULAR DEPARTMENTS.

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

‘How to Do Things,” by David Parks.

‘Our Stamp Album.”
“Mail Bag,” “Exchange Departiment,”
, “Olub Notices,” ete.

ATTENTION! —
Watch This Column Next Week!

aetiienel Gh mpi

| ANOTHER GREAT SURPRISE!
One of the Best Offers We Have Made Yet!

eae: pea ‘
Don’t fail to inform your friends of what

the “King of Boys’ Weeklies”
_ its readers !
The Jack of Diamonds.

——~-———

is doing for
, v

Don’t get impatient, boys, because the
successful guessers of the ending of the

{ ers that have been received, you would
not be surprised. We

Lach one of these letters is carefully read.
laid aside and then all these are again read

7

e had no idea it would be such a task,

“So, have a little patience. We assure you |

that the result will be announced just as
genie Wossibles 6 Fg Nee tes)

Pete

 

 

Care Oe

NEWS.

 

ALL WHO READ MAY WHEEL!

 

BICYCLES
GIVEN

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To GooD NEWS Readers.

A Grand Contest of Coupons!

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GREATEST OFFER IN THE HISTORY OF GOOD NEWS!

\
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If you wish to own an elegant pneumatic-| 3. The name and address must be mailed

tired, high-grade bicycle, read the following
offer ; .

To the thirty readers of the ‘‘King of
Boys’ Weeklies” sending in to this office the
greatest number of coupons clipped from
the ‘twelve issues of Goop Nrws, commenc-
ing with No. 296 and ending with No. 307,
will be given to each a high-grade, first-
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The Coupons will Be Found on

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2. Coupons must not be mailed at diff-
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the date of issue of No. 307.

‘ ‘

 

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Get them from your friends.

Buy extra copies.

A coupon is a coupon, and every one of
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:
en

REMEMBER!

This is no brain-puzzling contest. It
only requires a pair of shears and sundry
copies of Goop News,

The bicycles purchased by us specially
for this unparalleled offer are high grade
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Will you walk or wheel

during the coming year?

‘
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Bee

It rests with

Aa Ye Y 5

 

SHORT “EALKS
With {He Boys.

ARTHUR SEWALL.

—- ——

EDITED BY

G. M. S., Rising Sun, Del., writes: ‘I find
that all boys, who desire to learn a trade, write
to you and ask your opinion of the same.
would like to know which would you suggest
the better of the two trades, electrical engineer-
ing or printing. I have a desire tor both, but
know not which is the better. I understand
both fairly, and desire to learn both. Can T do
it? IT never had any experience at bell fitting
only what I have taken to experiment upon, and
by patience, I have learned the principle on
electrical bell and telephone lines. I have
made bells, made batteries when I have had the
necessary chemicals. I understand all about
the motor and dynamo (have made small
motor), and have aslight knowledge of Edison’s
phonograph. I have two uncles who are fore-

| men in large electrical concerns in Wilmington,

| and that’s where [ intended to learn my trade.

| [ have a great desire to learn printing, but some

| friends have advised me not to do so as ma-

| chines set type now. What do you think about
i+ OI?

ANNOUNCEMENT EXTRAORDINARY!

Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be |
If they do not |

30 BICYCLES 30

On ‘the whole, I should strongly advise
you to stick to the electrical business. There
is a much greater possible future for you as
an electrician than asa printer. Then you
have evidently a strong liking for electricity
or you would never have accomplished un-
aided what you have. Your uncles being
in the business would also be of great ad-
vantage to you. If possible, take a course
in a college, but if that is impracticable,
enter the works where your uncles are em-
ployed, and obtain at the same time all the
knowledge you can by a systematic course
of reading.
RALPH NELSON, Springtield, Ohio, writes:
“What advice can you give toa@ boy 14 years
old who would like traveling as a business,
either on land as a salesman or agent, or DY
water as a mariner ?”
Your request is decidedly vague, as almost

cial travelers.
have to enter the employ of some firm an

would be allowed to go ‘‘on the road,’’ and
certainly you would have to be many years —

realized.

A ‘‘drummer,’’ too, has to be possessed or
peculiar’ qualities to make a success. 10
must have push, good conversational powers,

edge of the world. That you like to travel
would not avail you anything, and, after 4

from place to place.

A sailor’s life is far worse.
hard and unremitting, the fare wretched, ©
and the wages poor. Before you had beet
at sea a week, you would heartily wish —
yourself at home again. ee

-Read R. H. Dana’s ‘‘Three Years Before
the Mast.’’ ]

Travel is an excellent thing to obtalD —
knowledge and to broaden one’s mind; but’

embrace some calling for which you have
no voeation. Bead

X. W. W., Lexington, Ky., writes: “Seeing you
answer questions, | wish you would kindly in-
form me the prospects for entering one, °*
Thomas A. Edison's schools, If there is such 4
school, where is it, and what are the full pat
ticulars? What is the best trade, a chemist Of
an electrician? I like both very well, but
hardly know which to choose. I know a ood
deal about electricity, which T learned row
books; but would like to practice it. Your
paper is, indeed, the ‘King of Boys’ Weeklies. —

There are no Thomas A. Edison school
that I know of. You might possibly be aDl@ —
to obtain a position in Mr. Jdison’s works —
in. New Jersey, if that is what you mean,
but there are other shops nearer home. |.

Still, if you intend to become an electt)-
cian, I strongly advise you to enter bani
institute of technology, if yous means will
permit you todo so. Here you can obtalt
a complete knowledge of electricity, an’
after you have finished your course, W ich
as a rule is three years, you stand an excel-
lent chance of securing immediate employ”
ment at a good salary. On the other han®
you may become an excellent mechanle “
Spending some time ina shop, while you
knowledge of electricity may be but slight
At an institute of technology, you not only
obtain theoretical instruction, but also h@ is
some practical training. The best ma? is
the long run is the one who supplements ®™
college learning with shop experience. | j¢

A college course is also. most valuable,
becom

not absolutely necessary, to
chemist.
Icould not advise you which of the !
trades to choose. That all ‘depends up?
boy’s tastes and aptitudes. _ aay

SprcraL Noricke.—Many communication?
improperly addressed to this departme™ ’
are answered in the ‘‘Mail Bag.”

——_+-o-e ——

 

you!

THERE are twenty-five women
country papers in Kansas,

every form of business has need of commer —
In any event, you would) ~

learn its business in every detail before you —

an equable temper, and a thorough knowl —
while, Iam sure you would become thor-
oughly tired of the constant moving about .

The work is _

do not let your desire to roam lead you tO —

older before you would see your ambition ay

 
 

too, »

GrooDpD

GAY DASHLEIGH’S ACADEMY DAYS:

Mm. Viclaxe TIMES AT HBB TIDE.

(GAY DASHLEIGH’S ACAI

»EM

CHAPTER

BY ARTHUR SEWALL,

Y Days’? wa
News

VII.

PROFESSOR GASSE MAKES HIS BOW.

. clustered at

 

ehed sheep.

afte
the corner of the
glanced back before
and saw Munson mak
Ing frantic efforts to
climb up from the fatal
Window,

Professor Progney’s
hat and spectacles had
fallen to the ground,
&nd the venerable head-
aster was clinging for

©ar life to Ferris’ coat-

“a As Gay watched
os Sager curiosity, a
pend of rending cloth
4me to his ears, and
oy his room-mate
Cramble up the fire-
escape three rungs at a
ime, ”

y

oe Uproar had served

7 *#'¥m the whole
penny and lights
and ¢] twinkling here
of here in the rooms
Suda 8 Junior teachers.
mare dy & couple of
alarn arums began the
and h On the parade,

leads appeared at
® Various windows of

. annex buildings.

UMpinge M !
ther ping Moses!
are Will be a grand

"Tow. And almost
© whol

© corps is in it,
the, Slipped beyond
ie : ig the house as
bitiasnte ®,- and found

Self in the midst of
of trembling
The one nearest
ved to be Sidney
All boyish eti
cast to the
the face of a

Him pro
~TOSs,

Winds in
Peo danger
‘ itllo, Dashleigh !”?
t isaee Cross. ‘“Isn’t
*‘eadful? Wy i
nee : ere is
Your friend?»
I saw of
4S scooting uy
Cape. He must
room by this

Im he Ww

€ fire-as
48 In our
time ”?

66 How

the

Gay slipped to the ground

GROAN of dismay from the cadets
foot of
followed Munson Ferris’
fall, then they scattered like fright-

the ladder
unfortunate

and darted

He

building.

reaching the corner, |down that

conimenced in

No.

297. Back numbers cap be obtained of all
Agents.)

poned. The gridiron won’t be evidence
to-night, will it?’’
| ‘*Not that one,’’ grinned Jack Dunhan, |
| who was just behind, ‘‘but old ‘Prog’ will |
have one heating for you, never you,
mind,’’

‘‘What makes me feel so badly is, that the
upper forms are not in it, too,’’ said Sidney,
|dolefully. ‘‘They’ll have the laugh on us
| now, and we won’t hear the last of it fora

in

ta shadowy figure disappearing around | good while.”’

school

‘*T thought every cadet in the school came
fire-escape,’’ said Gay, in sur

 

 

Li Ta

LA

I
| Hl

mn
NL

ina
LULU ETT
ll I Hh

 

| ly:
| repeated.’’

jin

NEW S.

fessor Progney himself, flanked by a sol-|
dierly built man in army blue.

A snicker ran down the line when the
recreant cadets appeared, but the levity was
speedily checked by the professor’s compan-
ion, Lieutenant Suniner.

‘*Silence in ranks!’’ he called out, sharp-
‘Cadet Captain Boyd, see that it is not

One by one the culprits took their places |
the ranks, but as they edged past the
group of officers the cadet adjutant wrote
down their names. Gay had not been as-
signed to any company, so he hesitated on
reaching the front of the battalion.

‘¢Step over here, Master Dashleigh,*’ com-
manded Professor Progney, ominously.
‘*Where is your room-mate?’’

‘*J do not know, sir.’’

‘*Send up to room fifty, and bring down
that new boy. I think I have of his
wearing apparel here.”’

The professor held up a jagged piece of
cloth as he spoke. Again thé snicker came
from the line of cadets; then as one boy the
whole assembled crops burst into uproarious

some

laughter.
Gay saw Lieutenant Sumner and_ the

4-7'7'7

‘*Where
latter.

‘‘Up—up stairs, sir,’’ stammered Munson.

‘*Is it torn?’’

‘*No—that is—I—yes, it’s torn,”’

‘*Well, here a piece to mend it with.
This is nice work for boys not twenty hours
in school. Where were you going when you
fell—er—fell upon my—er—neck from the
fire-escape?’?

Munson shivered, and glanced from’ the
professor to the dark line of cadets. He was
between the horns of a very painful dilem
ma. If he refused to answer the questions

is your coat?’’ thundered the

sir,

is

| Professor Progney would probably dismiss

him from the academy, and on the other
hand, if he revealed the plot of the lower
form boys, and repeated the contents of the
note, he could expect to be branded asa
tell-tale.

**Well?’’ queried the head-master, sternly.

A slight hiss came from the far end of the
ranks. It was a significant warning. Almost
beside himself Ferris threw out both hands
with a pleading gesture and begged:

‘*Please, sir, won’t you let me go this
time? I—I can’t answer your question. You
know how it is yourself, that is if—if you
were ever a boy at—at

 

 

 

4 school. Didn’t they haze
—no, I didn’t mean to
say that. Oh, sir, I
don’t know what*l did
mean. I—I don’t know
—know anything.’

He was almost in tears
by this time, but Pro-
fessor Progney was in-
exorable. He felt that
it was too good an op-
portunity to be lost.
Never before had such
a wholesale arrest of
wrongdoers been made.
It was a fitting time to
assert needed discipline,

‘*Where were you go-
ing, sir?’’ he demanded
again.

*‘T don’t know,’’ re-
plied Munson, desper-
ately.

“That may be true.
But you mentioned haz-
ing. Have you any
reason to believe such
a disgraceful practice
was. contemplated to-
night?”’

This was a pointed
question, and it sent
cold chills trotting up
and down the spinal
columns of more than
one cadet within hear-
ing. Pushed to the wall,
Munson obeyed the
drift of his cowardly
nature, and attempted
to shift the trouble to
some one else.

‘‘T don’t know any-
thing about it, sir,’’ he
stammered, ‘‘but I
think my room-mate
could tell you. Ask Gay
Dashleigh, sir.’’

A groan of contempt
came from the shadowy
ranks of the cadets, and
it was not checked by
the officers. Gay stood
in his place within a
few feet of the profes-
sor, but he clinched his
hands in wrath.

With all his sternness
and severity Professor
Progney was a lover of
fair play.

Munson’s answer dis-
gusted him, but it also
served to put an end to
the examination. Turn-
ing to the battalion, he

 

 

1

said, sharply:

‘*Tf is my firm con
viction that one of the
most important rules of

A VARIED COL-

to-night. Fortunately I caught you in time.
As a warning I order a company formed of
those cadets whose names the adjutant has

taken. It will be called the Company of

| Punishment, and will stand guard two hours

on and four off in front of this building for
six nights. The members will also remain
in bounds for fourteen days, and do extra
police duty for a like period.’’

He hesitated, then he turned upon Mun-
son Ferris and said, sternly :

‘*T hardly know what to do in your case.
I do not believe you have told the truth to-
night.

Lying is detested in this academy.
and I intend to punish you severely.

What

| shall I do with this culprit, gentlemen?”’

| would be very nice.

The question was addressed to the staff of
teachers. Professor Gasse fingered his ginger
whiskers and suggested, feebly :

‘‘Compel him to study Shakespeare for
thirty days, sir. That should——’’

‘*And recite to you, I presume. That
How many times am I
to tell you that chemistry is your depart-
ment in this academy, sir? Please confine

the thin, n the duse did
ae happen?’
With Char er cadet,
A lattering teeth.
broken 338 ie have
CoOmn.?). , ePlied Gay.
gelled to Binciie 4;
. F€collection of Man
Say " tshap. But.
tk dog t there any way
buildings’ = into the
(74 8!
groan 2° late now,”
Nant Sime ey ‘Liew AT THAT MOMENT PROFESSOR GASSE CHANCED TO STEP THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR, JUST IN TIME TO RECEIVE
te a bed Site mak LECTION OF SLIPPERS, SOCKS, AND OTHER PERSONAL BRIC-A-BRAC.
On hb .~ YEC Inspec
cf ids time, ?? prise. ‘‘What do you mean by the upper | junior teachers bite their lips, but the head- | this academy was in a fair way to be broken
‘Hog 4, Jeutenant Sumner?”’ asked Gay. | forms?”? | master’s severe face did not relax. Presently
°Vernment army officer detailed by the) ‘‘The academy is divided into two parts,’’| a most extraordinary figure came down the
POodness =...) 9 COMmand our corps. For | whispered Jack Dunham. ‘‘'The first, second, | front steps of the main building, and joined
pashleigh ae don’t, ask questions now,/|and third year boys belong to the lower | the group of officers.
here Zoes t] % are in a tight box. Gracious! | school, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth form) It was a man of probably middle age with
§,.. What's therm bell,” |the upper. We are third yearlings, you} enormously long side whiskers of a ginger
ire ®Seape “es matter with shinning up the} know. We were going to initiate you to- | hue, and a red, mottled face. His head was |
Ugg ag ad a fading into Allibone’s room??? | night, and the uppers were to have their : perfectly bald, and perched upon it wasa
What! Slim Cadet. | try Monday night.’’ | niilitary fatigue cap about four sizes too
uch, are this bright moonlight? Not ‘*You fellows are certainly considerate, | small. He wore spectacles, but he peered
hrade, and we ll have to face old ‘Prog’ on | dividing up ‘your amusements in that fash-| over them ina furtive way as it secretly
here's the 1, 2°er for our sins. Come on; |ion,’? smiled Gay. ‘‘SoI was to get it in| regretting their presence. _ :
iene Cade ast call to fall in.” | two doses, eh? Well, I like that.”’ | ‘Titus Andronicus! what is the meaning of |
to. Shadows of ped out one by one from ‘*Oh, you wouldn’t have had it very hard / this?’’ he chirped, staring at the battalion.
wok the lente the main building. Sidney | with us, you know. Sid Cross is the leader Ps Tardiness is not an excuse for ignorance,
bee a mourntar Gay walked with him. It| of the lowers, and he likes you. But just | Professor Gasse,’’ replied the head-master,
Me hing very f Procession, but there was | wait until Allibone—he’s the leader of the! severely. ‘‘If you had turned out at the
tho! He Chuckie”. in it for the new ar- | uppers—gets hold of you. Say, 1 wish you’d | first alarm you would not be compelled to |
Per I dicroue 5 ed once as he remembered | give him a licking. He’s meaner than dirt, | ask questions. "’ ig :
ty Ms and Bee formed by Munson | and we all hate him.’’ | ‘*Oh, thank you!’’ exclaimed the little
cued to him if *ssor Progney, and Sidney| Gay had no time to reply to Jack’s volun- | professor, subsiding.
Waid tink it Comins, : teered information, as the string of culprits | Just then the messenger dispatched to the
Over Until the ae eh?’ he sniffed. ‘‘Just | had reached the front of the building. Out | upper floor appeared, dragging Munson
c the Coals: tt ‘gS commence to haul you|}on the parade was a dark row of figurés| Ferris by the arm. Gay’sroom-mate was in |
of th Was aughi 1en it won’t be so funny.’’ | standing at attention. Marching up and ) shirt and trousers, and he acted as if recent- |
8'R. T. A '. 2 think how the meeting | down were three or four teachers with ly awakened from a sound sleep. He was

will have to be post-

‘lanterns, and standing a little apart was Pro-! taken before Professor Progney.

your Shakespeare to your own room.”’
‘* Julius Cesar ! ut

 
 

4778

Ct4QOOD NAW ses.

 

‘* Professor Gasse!’?

‘Oh, thank you, sir,’’ and the little pro-
fessor subsided again.

‘‘T think I will start you on thirty de-
merits, Master Ferris. When you have re-
covered them by good conduct, I will con-
sider your case further. As for you, Master
Dashleigh, I believe you are almost inno-
cent in this affair. You can remain in
bounds for five days, and report to the com-
mandant for immediate drill Monday. Dis-
miss the battalion.’’

The cadets trooped back to their quarters
in silence. Many black looks were cast in
Munson Ferris’ direction, and it was plainly
evident he had not made a very favorable
commencement in his academy career.

CHAPTER VIII.
THE STUTTERING JAPANESE,

A as D ; ; ;
} -URING the following week there

Is?) was little time for pranks. The
a corps went into camp for the month

pupil, both in study and drill. He early | Espying the intruder, he sprang to the
attracted the attention of Lieutenant Sum- | ground, but just then the Jap—evidently
ner, who saw in the well-built, athletic lad | with a last desperate attempt to save him-

 

=> on Monday, and the battalion was
exercised daily. Gay and Munson, together
with a new boy from New York, were
formed into an awkward squad and put |
through the drill of the recruit.

A corporal from the upper forms had
charge of them, and he did his work
thoroughly. It was drill, drill, drill, morn-
ing, noon, and night. Reveille at six-thirty,
breakfast at seven, then recitations and
study until ten, then drill for an hour. ’

Both Gay and Munson were placed in the
second form of the lower school, where they
found many congenial spirits glad to wel-
come one of them at least. Sidney Cross |
had spoken a good word for Gay among his
associates, and Dashleigh speedily found
himselt a favorite.

‘*It’s true you haven’t been initiated
yet,’’ explained Jack Dunham, ‘‘but that
an’t your fault, you know. We accept you
on probation, and just as soon as the excite-
ment blows over you’ll get another invita-
tion.’’

‘*1?]]_ be ready when it comes,’’ grinned
Gay. ‘‘To tell the truth, I’d like to know
just what the ceremonies are.’’

‘*You’ll find out soon enough.”’

Which certainly proved true.

The Ebb Tide battalion was composed of
two companies, called ‘‘A’’ and ‘‘B.’’ The
former embraced the upper forms with
Cadet Allibone as captain, and the latter
was commanded by a cadet named Fessen-
den, It consisted of the lower forms. There
were fifty lads is each company, not count-
ing the band and bugle corps.

he camp—named ‘‘Sumner’’ out of com-
pliment to the commandant--had been pitched
upon the lower end of the parade, about
two hundred yards from the academy build-
ings. A rather dense forest of old oaks ex-
tended from the camp to the little fresh
water creek on the edge of the grounds.

The tents were similar in construction and
arrangement to those used at West Point.
They were trimly pitched wall-tents, the
walls themselves neatly looped up so as to
allow the air’ to circulate freely. The tent
and its ‘‘overcoat,’’ or fly, were stretched
taut and smooth, without crease or wrinkle.

The floor ee or. ground under each
was a square, smooth wooden platform raised
six inches upon scantlings and fastened with
nails. In each tent was a wooden box
painted black, divided into four compart-
ments, with lid opening at top. This was
the chest of drawers,

A wooden rod hung about eighteen inches
under the ridge-pole; this was the ward-
robe, and, with the exception of two com-
mon stools, of other furniture there was
none,

Each cadet was allowed two. double
blankets, two pillows, a couple of comfort-
ers, and a spread. This bedding was neatly
folded every morning and arranged to suit
the strictly military taste of Lieutenant
Sumner, who conducted an inspection daily.

Each tent was furnished with a very
primitive toilet outfit, consisting of wooden
water bucket, tin washbowl, soap-dish, and
clean towels. For light there were two
candles fastened to the rear pole. The two
rifles, barrels to the front, were stood erect,
the butt of each in its wooden socket at the
back of the floor, the muzzle poked through
a hole in the shelf fastened about four feet
from the ground, The belts, supporting the
cartridge-box and bayonet ecabbaed, were
a on pegs projecting from the wooden
shelf.

There were two streets in the camp, one
to each company, and a rivalry existed be-
tween them as to the care and cleanliness
displayed. The teachers were housed in
several large tents at the end of the streets,
and the guard tent occupied a space directly
fronting the parade.

Reveille sounded at six- thirty each morn-
ing. After roll-call the cadets were exer-
cised in ‘‘set-up’’ drill, then the whole corps
was marched to breakfast in the regular
dining-hall. After a balf-hour of recreation,
study and recitations were held until nine-
thirty, then guard-mount on the parade,
and battalion drill. More study after dinner
was followed by evening parade, then came
retreat and supper. The day generally ended
with an hour of study.

| figure of a little man.

 

Gay speedily became accustomed to the
routine, and he proved himself a very apt

a model soldier.

At the end of the first week he had pro-
gressed so well that he was relieved from
recruit drill, to the great chagrin of Munson
Ferris and other envious boys. Munson and
Gay occupied the same tent, but the son of
Milton’s wealthy man fought rather shy of
his tent-mate.

iself from mortal injury—scrambled to his
jfeet, and hurled the ancient carpet-bag
directly at Patrick’s head.

It struck the object at which it was aimed
}and instantly burst open. The force of the
impact sent Patrick’s head through one side,
and there it hung, for all the world like
those neck ruffles seen in pictures of ancient

 

named,’? added the messenger, rather inso- §

lently, ‘‘and don’t fail or there will be
trouble. D’ye understand?’’

Gay did not like the fellow’s tone. He
was alone in the tent, so he coolly caught
|the upper form cadet by the scruff of the
collar and forced him out into the company
street.

‘*Next time you bring a message to a gen-
tleman act decently,’’ he said.

As visits between companies were inter-

 

On the memorable night of the fire-escape | squires. But that was not all, unfortunately. | dicted after nine, the messenger did not

accident, Gay had laid down the law so

| At that moment Professor Gasse chanced

|dare create a row. Slinking between two

effectively for Munson’s edification that he/|to step through the front door, and he was , tents, he whispered, savagely :

never forgot the lesson. There was no
temper displayed, but simply a forcible are
raignment which revealed to the youth the
opinion held concerning his contemptible
action in endeavoring to shift the blam-
from bis own shoulders.

Saturday afternoon, during the hour of
recreation, Gay, Sidney Cross, and several
other cadets were loitering down near the
front gate of the grounds. Suddenly they
heard a strange yelping and barking down
the road. Looking through the iron fence,
they saw a rapidly moving cloud of dust

|coming from the direction of the village.
A moment later there came into view the |
He was running at}

the top of his speed in a frantic endeavor to
escape from a trio of dogs snapping at. his
heels. The fugitive waved an ancient carpet-
bag in the air, and at every dozen steps he
would halt and aim a blow at his per'secutors,
The group of cadets began to laugh and

jeer, and one even attempted to urge the |

vicious brutes on, Gay waited until the man
arrived opposite the gate; then he picked up
a couple of stones, and with a few well-

directed shots, sent the curs yelping in re- |

treat.

By this time it was seen that the fugitive
was rather out of the common run of pedes-
trians frequenting that vicinity. He was a
wiry, little man with a yellowish, Oriental
face and thick black hair. He had shrewd,
twinkling, bead-like eyes, and a very bland
expression of countenance,

His costume was as queer as his face. He
wore trousers several inches too short, old
tan shoes, one evidently two sizes larger
than the other, a linen jacket the color of
wet dust, a gayly striped tennis shirt, and a
polo cap. With the addition of a tomato can
and a Hibernian cast of countenance he
would have passed for a typical ‘‘Weary
Walker.’’

He had evidently seen Gay’s effort to free
him from the dogs, as he advanced with
quick, little hops, and bowed profoundly to
the lad. As he approached his identity was

revealed. He was a Japanese.
‘¢T.¢-t-thankee y-y-you, sir,’’ he ex-
claimed, with a marked stutter. ‘‘Y-you

§ 8-s-save m-me f-from the d-dogs, and I
v-v-elly m-much obliged, s-sir.’’

‘Golly! a stuttering Jap,’’ whispered
Sidney, with a delighted chuckle. ‘‘What
larks we could have with him if he belonged
here.’’

‘*You are entirely welcome,’’ Gay replied
to the new-comer. ‘‘But let me advise you
to show a bold front to such curs the next
time, A large stone judiciously placed will
generally disperse them.’’

The Jap evidently did not understand, but
he bobbed his queer little head gratefully.

‘*W-want m-man t-to w-w-work here?’’ he
asked, eagerly. ‘‘M-me look for w-work.
velly go-go-good servant. I wash d-dishes,
s-s-weep the f-loor, m-m-ake beds and do
everyt’ing, c-cheap.’’

The cadets fairly danced with joy. Gay
exchanged grins with Sidney, and together
they asked the wayfarer inside the grounds.
Such an opportunity for sport had not been
offered the mischief-loving lads for some
time. Each and every one would have con-
tributed to bis hire without a murmur,

‘Oh, peaches and cream!’’ chuckled Jack
Dunham. ‘‘What a team he would make
with old Gasse, Fancy the ginger-whiskered
professor teaching this disciple of the Sun
Bill Shakespeare? My, oh, my!’’

‘‘Go right up to that side door and ask for
Professor Progney,’’ directed Gay. ‘‘Tell
him you are looking for work, and that you
understand all kinds of labor. Perhaps he
will engage you.”’ °

‘*When you bow to him put your thumb
to your nose in this manner, and wiggle
your fingers,’?’ added Jack Dunham,
gravely.

The Jap shook his head and grinned
blandly. He evidently knew a thing or two.
With another grateful salute to Gay, he
ambled up the path, crossed the parade, and
disappeared into the main building.

‘*Now watch, and you’ll see Patrick
chasing him with a club,’’ said Sidney,
smacking his lips in delightful anticipation.

‘‘Probably they’ll engage him after all,’’
remarked Gay. ‘‘He looks rather tough, but
his class make good servants. He—— Jump-
ing Moses! there he comes.’’

The front door suddenly flew open, and

—_

the diminutive figure of the Jap sprdng over |

the threshold. He cleared the veranda with
two leaps, then stumbled over a pot of roses

and fell headlong upon the graveled walk. ' the upper form boys slipped into Gay’s tent | The place.where the contending 1 tely

The cause of his sudden exit speedily be-
camé apparent. The burly form of Patrick,
the driver, dashed through the door-way.
He was armed with an immense duster,
which he wielded as his ancestors handled
their shillalahs on their native heath,

just in time to receive a varied collection of
| slippers, socks, and other personal bric-a-
| brac which filled the air ih his vicinity.
And then how Gay and his companions
laughed and rolled and howled in glee!

CHAPTER IX.

AN INTERRUPTED CEREMONY.

 

cy

Lom

66

H, my! see the Irish gentleman in

pressible Jack Dunham.
fit him quick?’’

And see Professor Gasse combing the
hosiery from his whiskers,’’ laughed Gay,
‘holding his sides. ‘‘Ha! ha! ha! this is
better than ten circuses. ’’

‘“‘Sh-h! there comes old ‘Prog,’’’ ex-
claimed Sid Cross, pointing toward the
camp. ‘‘Now you'll see the fur fly.’’

The venerable head-master of Ebb Tide

| temper rising at every stride.
| By the time he had reached the graveled

‘him. The eccentric teacher of chemistry

| bolted into the house without loss of time, |

| leaving Patrick and the poor Jap to face the
music. The driver was just in the act of
| dusting the intruder with his extemporized

shillalah when the head-master reached the

spot. : Ua
‘*What is the meaning of this disgraceful

|scene?’’?’ he thundered, catching Patrick’s |
‘Do you think this academy is a}
is this—this :

| arm.
|school for—for idiots?
| person???

| ‘*Blamed if Oi know, sor,’’ hastily replied
| the driver, ducking his head. ‘‘T'h’ dure
| Opened, and a strong wind sent him in, Oi
|suppose. He’s a tramp, sor, and a yellow
| nagur of a tramp, too. Shall I help him
from th’ grounds, sor?’’

He had wrested the carpet-bag from
}around his ueck by that time, and he stood
| looking from it to the Jap with such a broad
| expression of humiliation that even Profes-
|sor Progney was compelled to smile.

‘*What were you doing in this house, my
man?’’ asked the head-master, severely.
‘*] m-m-mean no h-h-harm, sir,’’ stut-

Who

‘‘T a-am 1-l-looking for—for w-work, sir.
I v-v-velly go-go-good servant, and I work
ch-cheap, too.’’

‘‘Mercy! a stuttering Japanese. The first
in my experience. This is interesting. It
would certainly be a novelty to have a
servant of your description. Umph!
lieve we need an extra man in the kitchen.
Where have you worked before?’ '

‘*T work for Mr. V-v-v-vanderbilt, and
Mum-mum-mister A-a-astor, sir, and Mum-
mum-mum-mum-mum——’’

‘“‘That will do,’’ hastily interposed the
professor, in alarm. ‘‘Catch your breath,
my man. What a remarkable impediment of
speech you have! Did you work for those
well-known gentlemen in their city houses
or in the country?”

‘‘In t-the c-c-c-city, sir,’’ stuttered the
Jap, producing several papers from his
linen jacket.

‘*Ah, these are from thethefs. Well, I'll
give you a trial. Gather up your—er—ward-
robe and report to the cook. And, Patrick,
no animosity, I say. Do not molest this
poor traveler from a foreign country.’’

As the professor vanished into the build-
ing, the driver slyly shook his fist at the new
culinary assistant and muttered to Gay and
Sidney, who bad gradually neared the scene:

‘Oh, Oi won’t molist him, not Oi. Oi
won’t do a t’ing to th’ yellow-skinned,
sawed-off, grinning son av a monkey. Just
you watch me curves some dark night.’?

He vanished, waving his duster in the air.
The Jap gazed after his retreating form,
and then turned to the cadets with a bland
smile. Picking up the remains of his carpet-
bag, he said, placidly:

‘*B-b-big Irishman plenty t-talk. Jap no
f-f-fool. He hittee mum-mum-me, I hittee
him, and don’t you f-f-forget it. Go-go-
CET
‘*Did you ever see the beat of that?’ ex-
claimed Gay, as he watched the
foreigner amble to the kitchen. ‘‘That duck

for a fool. Boys, he’ll double the fun in this
school.’’

| ‘*For which let us ke truly thankful,”’
| laughed Jack Dunham.

| That night between tattoo and taps one of

 

through the back and silently delivered him
a note, inviting him and Munson to a select
little party at ten o’clock.

Its purport was plain. It was a polite re-
quest to come and be hazed.

‘‘Be down by the old well at the hour

his necklace of state,’’ shouted irre- |
** Don’t it |

had seen the affray from afar, and he im- |
| mediately started for the scene wich his)

walk Professor Gasse had caught sight of |

tered the wayfarer, with a queer little bow. |

I be- |

little |

is all right. Don’t any of you pick him up|

| ‘‘U’l get square with you for this to-night, #

see if I don’t.’ i
| ‘“‘At your pleasure,’’ carelessly replied
Gay. ‘‘At the same time you might as wel
tell your leader that I would treat him 10
the same manner if he talked as you did.”’

The cadet fairly gasped at the idea of 4
| lower form boy, anda recent recruit at that,
| threatening Allibone, the captain of the
/uppers. He hastened away to carry the mh
portant news to his chief.

Five minutes later Jack Dunham slipped
in.
| ‘To-night’s the night, to-night’s thé
night,’’ he chirped, gayly.
| ‘*What do you mean now?’? J

‘‘Why, the long-deferred meeting of the

EK, T. A. R. C. is to take place this blessed
,evening at half-past ten. Everything's 4
‘ranged; the gridiron is heating, and 4
| have four candidates, counting yourself a0
Ferris.’’

Gay handed him the note he had just 1
ceived.
| **Sorry to disappoint you, but I bave fa
previous engagement,’’ he said, whimsically.

Jack scanned the contents, then he slappe
his thigh in ecstacy. cia

‘*Golly! this is great,’’ he exclaimec:
‘‘At last we have a chance to beat those fel-
lows. They have evidently made all prep
rations to initiate you at the old boat-hous®
but we'll fool ’em,’’
| ‘**Well, what am I to do?’’

‘*Go witb us, of course.’’

‘‘And risk a row with the uppers?” z

**We’ll side with you, never fear. Any
way we've first claim on you. Didn ee
| get cheated out of our fun the night Fer" t
fell upon Prog’s neck? Now you have Ju®
got to go with us.’’

‘It certainly seems that I am in gre@® to

mand. Fancy the whole’ school ready vil
fight for the honor of hazing me? Wells i
/await your pleasure. I suppose there wr

be any peace until I get roasted. Here ©”

Munson; see how he takes it.’’

Munson decidedly objected. “6:
| ‘Think I’m going to -let a lot of feller
|!cook me?’ he said. ‘‘Not on yout

Perky Boyd told me he was in the ho

three weeks after the uppers hazed him.
| won't go; I'll resign first.’?
| Gay and Jack exchanged winks. reat
| ‘All right,’’ said the latter, with 4 d
‘air of indifference. ‘‘{’ll drop aroune
tell Sid that you refuse, By morning
be all over camp, and you know W
expect.’?

 

asked Gay.

spital

‘*Never mind. Gay, you’ll be wit
| course??? :
| ‘*¥Yes, I won’t funk it now.’’
* Jack started to leave the tent,
stopped him. ‘
| ‘*Do you think I had better go?
| .**Suit yourself, my boy.’’
| ‘Don’t be a muff,’’? said Gay, ©
‘uously. ‘‘Can’t you stand what eve!
|in this academy has undergone? \
| ‘*T’ll ge,’? decided Ferris, sulle® :
if they try anything rough, TPIl——~ ce
“Tek tha ea crowds I supp? f
| laughed Jack, leaving the tent. anc
A half-hour after taps he rate nee @
‘found Gay and Munson fully ares reets 1°
\led the way between the company ned from
| the edge of the woods. As they SUPP’ ag by
shadow to shadow, they were J°
fully a score of cadets. uld pave
mand

put Ferris

'y ca
«éput

9)?

 

It was an exodus which W° a
opened the eyes of the military ©
ant. ared yards

Sidney Cross met them a huv@r | a+ he
from the camp, and Gay notice mA
and his companions carried 89°”
sticks, : meet hae

‘‘T guess they mean war if they jet the”
uppers,’? he muttered. ‘‘Well, onqueri2é
have it out. I’ll go with the agt
party to-night just to get this
with.”’ ts

He changed his mind a few momey roug

when, as the party was assiDg t
Cae they were £° A

Jaté

os
b 8

97

dark part of the woods, ny saad
by a number of cadets of Compa We”? cal
‘‘Thought you would fool us C704 as Arne

 

4 a “ ni
out a voice which Gay recob ive up

bone’s, the cadet captain. bis
plebes and save trouble.’’ —, ad Gay "to
| ‘*Don’t do it, Sid;’? whisperim to 8°
‘fighting blood aroused. ‘‘Te ‘
blazes.’? in a gec?
Cross promptly obeyed, and gorimmae
there was the liveliest kind of + at ovad
Gay plunged into the thick —jvals ut

met was a little clearing
rounded by thick bushes.

It was hardly large enough
swing a caf in, and there

at de- |

‘*What?’? asked Munson, uneasily. igor

pte pt:

thick |

over

wpe? |

mix
ter:
gro
a gr
Cro;

colli
aime
soe
Was
ee

Dy

he’s

 

B
Autho» Ae

(% Es
No, a4
Agents’, '

 

the greatest kind of a jumble. 2°,
of ‘*when you feel a head, hit it,
Friends and enemies became hopelessly
Mixed. Early in the fight Gay received a
‘errible whack from a stick that almost
grounded him. He struck back, and heard
4 grunt which sounded remarkably like Sid

Toss,

_ The next moment he came into violent
Sellision with some one. Raising his fist, he
Aimed a blow in the dark. It landed upon
Something soft, and the next moment he
Was clinched around the waist.

*‘Rally here, uppers!’’ called out a voice.

I’ve got one, and I’ll bet it’s that cheeky
beggar Dashleigh. Give us a hand, will you,
ne’s almost pounded my eye out.’

_Here’s with you, Allibone. Hold him
ast. They’ve captured Ferris, and the low-
€'s are sneaking. We’ve won the day.’’

he discreetly surrendered. His hands were
astened, and he and Munson were led away
‘triumph. After several minutes of dodg-
tg through bushes and along winding paths,
Fe a felt the touch of a damp, salty breeze,
_ There was light enough to distinguish the
Vague outlines of an old structure standing
Upon the bank of a small creek. It was the
t-house mentioned by Jack Dunham.
Was located in a retired spot. and
Seemed an ideal place for the pranks of a lot
of Mischief loving cadets. The boys of Ebb
ae Academy certainly devoted it to that
se,
ligh @ door was opened, and several lads
ted @ number of candles, revealing a
rangé interior. The apartment was large
. re save for two striking objects. At
one end was a contrivance shaped like a

ing Was geared to a crank and seemed to be

ended for the purpose of paddling objects
thy psumably refractory victims—held under
the blades,

gt the centre of the room was a flat, brick
Paet ace, and resting upon this was an
1¢mous iron toaster like those used for

at A groan behind Gay caused him to

turn in that direction.

a Unson Ferris was standing at his elbow.
dir was pale, and his startled eyes were
means at the instruments of torture. A

- €t busied himself setting fire to a pile of
wa, ranged under the toaster.

a. Strip the candidates and proceed with

_ first degree,’’? called out a voice from
ee owd. ‘Take Dashleigh, and make the
on extra hot.”

hag ze hands seized Gay, but before they

com ardly commenced to carry out the

little oo the door suddenly opened, and a
Bee with a red face and long ginger

i “Stop pt peed ae the ee ng :

this Outrage |"? exclaimed, sbrilly ; for bid

: (TO BE CONTINUED.)
+ 6 >

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

The Young Merchants of Yokota

BY ENRIQUE H. LEWIS,

, “Sword and Pen,” “The Copper Disk,”
; A Young Free Lance,” etc., ele.

| Authop

—_——~e——

(Oy, ‘
‘0, 287, EE Boys In JAPAN” was commenced in
Agents’) ack numbers can be obtained of aj] News

CHAPTER XXXVI.
a . CONCLUSION,

SO WARE arn

N “Wh

4, This

Al

sat

1y contracts!’’ echoed Grant,
Y, bless my soul, you are right!
is the day set by the War De-

tment for opening them.’?
thee a instinctively glanced at the
Oh .

Teat Sc 9)
ANSE Sleven'" ‘
nd at Toe an hour the board will sit,

Od. «s io—twenty miles away!’’ Mori
Not wither? lost bo ee after all.’’
e] a struggle,’’ firmly replied
here. e youth. ‘‘There’s Mr. Burr over

tha to meet us. Nattie, take
be Se arest nate and purchase
ink. jt quires of official paper, pen
@ with? back in five minutes. Mori,

me,’?
too bewildered to speak,
on his errand, Grant grasped
ae, and paeucee ran
“Master’s office, ey found
What ti. 2t€d at his desk. .
Capita)” 10es the next train leave for
eal " asked Grant
Too Ieper sthirt , sir.??
- How Hi
| ‘i renee! train?) will it take you to
in aut, rian Ployes stared at his ques-

§ \
Reese train for Tokio?’’ he asked.
® coul

tes Woe

exclaimed Nattie; ‘‘it’s

;
t aye it ready under twenty

®ve + Ww

it, impatient? reason, sir,’’ interrupted
he twelve edhe 91. must be in Tokio
impossible, sir,?? c ,

iW

A number of cadets piled upon Gay, and |

 

Cane)

‘*Not at all. It must be done. Where is
the engine that brought the train in a few
moments ago?’’ |

‘*Té is still in the station, but it will go to
the running-sheds before long.”’ }

‘‘T must have that engine,’’ exclaimed |
Grant, with determination. ‘‘I will pay you |
five hundred yen for an hour’s use of it. [|
will also give a bonus of fifty yen each to|
the engineer and fireman. Can it be done?’’

He slipped a folded English bank-nota to |
the official as he concluded. The bribe bad |
instant effect. Five minutes later a powerful
locomotive left the station, bearing the |
party. A small table had been secured, and |
hard at work upon it was Mr. Burr, writing |
for dear life as Grant dictated.

The line was clear, telegraphic orders hay-
ing been sent to that effect from Yokohama,
and the intricate mass of iron flew upon its
journey at the rate of seventy miles an hour.

It was a strange spectacle, and one never
before witnessed in all Japan. To the en-
gineer and fireman, native born, it was a
novelty indeed, and they cast many curious
glances at the group npon the tender.

As the miles were covered at terrific speed,
the ponderous engine swayed and rocked
like a ship in distress. But amid the lurch-
ing and tossing of the fabric, Grant stood
imperturbably droning word after word,
sentence upon sentence, while the canny
Scot: jotted them down as best he could.

The document was a lengthy one, full of
circumlocution and dreary phrases, but at |
the end of twelve minutes, when the out- |
skirts of Tokio came in sight, it was fin-

 

ished, The three members of the firm affixed /
their names just as the panting engine came |

NEWS.

It is a strange commentary on human na-
ture that even the vilest beast contains a
well of tenderness. The hand that slays in
cruel sport can also caress with fond affec-
tion. The African mother has her maternal
love; the foulest rogue a word of kindness.

Mr. Black was an unscrupulous man. He

was a scoundrel at heart, but there was an |

oasis in the desert of his immoral nature. It
was his love for his son Ralph. The news of

his offspring’s death came as.a terrible blow. |

His grief was pitiful.
The spectacle of a strong man weeping in
agony of spirit swept away all thoughts of

punishment. Grant exchanged glances with |

his brother, and then said, sadly, but with
firmness :

‘‘Mr. Black, we know everything. We
know fully your connection with the foul

plot to abduct me, but we are content with |

our triumph over you. We could have you
arrested and sent to prison for a term of
years, but we will be merciful. You can go
forth in freedom, but on certain conditions. ’’

The miserable man stood listening with
bowed head.

‘*You must leave Japan at once,’’ con-

tinued Grant, ‘‘and also make restitution of |

the money overpaid to you on account ef
our father’s debt. That debt was paid to you
before his death, and you know it.’’

‘*No, Grant, your father did not pay me,’’
replied Mr. Black, brokenly.

‘*Then you still deny it!’’ exclaimed the
lame youth, his voice growing hard.

‘*T will explain. I receivec part of the
| money, but not from your father. The day
Mr. Manning died in his office J received a

call from Willis Round. He sai‘ that he had |

4779

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

DON KIRK'S MINE:

OR,

‘The Fight for a Lost Fortune.

7

A Companion Story to ‘“‘The Boy Cattle King.”

BY HARRY DANGERFIELD,

Author of “The Boy Catile King,” “The Boy from
the West,” ete.
(“Don KIRK’s MINE” was commenced in No. 291,
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

+

CHAPTER XXV.
THE RESULT OF SIM’S STRATEGY.

EERING in at the window, from
1X which streamed the bar of yellow
If light, the three boys saw two men
ay grappled in a fierce embrace, and
struggling as if for their lives. Those men
| were Ben Shawnagan, the ruffianly rancher,
and Silver Sim, the cowboy.
| The other men werestretched on the floor,
|insensible to what was taking place, while
(a fourth, with his broad back propped
| against the wall, sat and stared drunkenly
| at the battling rancher and cowboy, hug-
| ging an empty whiskey bottle to his breast.
There was very little appearance of dignity

 

to a sudden stop in the railway station of | taken the fifty-six hundred dollars in gold | about Colonel Cawthorne, of Kansas City,

the capital.

Jinrikishas with fleet karumayas bad been
ordered by telegraph. The distance to the
War Department was at least a mile. Spring-
ing into the vehicles, the party were carried
swiftly through the streets, a promise of ten
times the usual fare having lent wings to
the men’s feet.

A clock observed mid-way indicated a
quarter of twelve.

‘*On, on, men!’’ cried Grant, imploringly.
‘‘Fifty yen each if you do it before the
stroke of twelve.’’

The promise was as a whip to a spirited
horse. From lagging steps the karumayas
bounded into a run. Down the narrow
streets they darted, past gardens, throngh
thoroughfares crowded with pedestrians; on,
on, until at last, with a final spurt, the four
jinrikishas came to a balt in front of the
Japanese War Office. ’

Leaving Mr. Burr to settle with the coolies
—who had well earned their pay—Grant
dasbed into the pullding. just as the first
stroke of a sonorous bell overhead pro-
claimed the hour of noon.

As he passed through the entrance he no-
ticed a door at the right bearing upon its
panels in Japanese, ‘‘War Department.
Office of the Army Board.’’ It was standing
slightly ajar, and from the interior came a
confused murmur of voices. |

Something prompted Grant and his com-
panions to stop and peer through. Seated at
a large desk were several officers in uniform
and other gentlemen in civilian’s clothes. In
the centre was Yoshisada Udono, Grant’s
friend. Occupying chairs in the main ’por-
tion of the room were the German. mer-
chants of Yokohama, Swartz and Bauer, and
Ralph’s father, Jesse Black.

The warning bell had reached the seventh
stroke! 4

Rising to his feet with a triumphant smile
upon his lean, suave face, the English mer-
chant advanced to the desk and laid thereon
a packet, As he turned to resume his seat
there was a noise at the door, and the lame
youth marched in with calm dignity.

‘‘Ah, I see I am,just in time,’’ he said,
with a pleasant smile. ‘‘Mr. Udono, will
you please accept our bid for the contracts?”’

‘‘Certainly, Grant, with thé greatest
pleasure,’’ quickly replied the secretary.
‘‘Where have you been? I actually thought
you would be——’’

He was interrupted by a snarl of mingled
stupefaction and rage. Mr. Black, who had
been staring open mouthed at the lads,
sprang forward, and shouted: /

‘It is too late! It is past the time. The
hour of twelve——’”’

‘Has not struck yet,’’ quietly interrupted
Grant. ‘‘ Listen! ten, eleven, twelve! I was
three seconds to the good.’’

If ever baffled fury set entbroned ona
man’s countenance it did then upon that of
the English merchant. He was speechless
with anger and disappointment. Shakin
his fist in Grant’s face, he stammered an
choked in a futile effort to berate him.

‘“‘Mr, Black, a word with you,’’ suddenly
said Nattie, stepping up.

The lad’s tone was full of meaning. He
turned and added to his brother and Mori:

‘‘Let us leave for some quiet place and
have it over with. You know we have a sad
duty to perform.’’

‘‘What, what’s that?’’ asked the mer-
chant, in alarm, recovering his speech. ‘‘My
son Ralph! What of him? Don’t tell me he
is Re ec

‘‘Come with us,’’ replied Grant, evasively.

Leaving Mori to make a brief explanation
to Mr. Udono, Nattie and he took the Eng-
lishman into a side room and there told the

| from the safe, and would divide with me if

| { would promise to back him up in pushing |

| just then.
Shawnagan had great strength, but he

}

| the firm to the wall. It was bis idea to pur-4 was slow of movement, while Sim Dolliver

chase the good-will of the business at a
forced sale and start in for himself. I—TI
consented, but our plans have failed.’’

‘*Through no fault of yours,’’ said Nattie,
sotto voce.

‘Do you agree to the conditions?’’ asked
Grant.

‘*Yes, I will do as you say,’’ replied the
disgraced merchant. ‘‘I will repay you and
leave this country at once. I am content to
do so. Oh, Ralph, my son, my son!’?

He tottered from the room, and that was
the last the lads saw of him. On the follow-
ing day a messenger brought to them in
their office at Yokohama a package of money
containing the amount previously paid to
Mr. Black.

Before the end of the week he had settled
up his affairs and left Japan. It was heard
later that’ he had returned to England,
where he went into retirement with the
money saved from his business. It is to be
hoped he sought repentance for his misdeeds.

In these o’er-true tales it is a pleasure to
part with some characters, but painful to

id farewell to others. A writer has his likes
and dislikes, even in his own literature. It
is said that the immortal Dickens crigd when
he penned the description of Little Nell’s
death in the ‘‘Old Curiosity Shop,’’ and that
his heart stirred with a curious anger as he
chronicled the villainies of Bill Sykes in
another olen

It is probably for a similar reason that I
do not like to write the words that will put
an end for all time to Grant and Nattie and
Mori. We have spent many pleasant half-
hours together. It has been a pleasure to
depict their honesty, and manliness, and
truth to watch their brave struggle against
misfortune, and at last to record their final
triumph.

They will succeed in life—-integrity and.

moral worth always do. They secured the
famous contract, and’ made a legitimate
profit from it. That was before the recent
war between China and Japan. They in-
vested their increased capital, and are now,
at the present date, on the fair road to for-
tune.

Mr. Burr is the manager of their Yoko-
hama house, Moriis in general charge of
the business in Japan, and Grant and Nattie
are now traveling in the United States visit-
ing their relatives and quietly keeping ah
eye out for the trade.

Sumo is established in the main office as
porter and messenger. He’sports a gorgeous
uniform and is ever relating to the small
boys of the neighborhood his memorable fight
with Raiko, the thug, at the foot of old Ban-
dai-San.

And now, in the language of those gentle
people, the Japanese, I will say ‘‘Sayo-
nara!’’

(THE END.)

——_+- ee —-____.
HE DECLINED THE HONOR.

‘You thought it itmsulting to be called
‘monkey face?’ ’’ asked a lawyer, who was
defending a man charged with using offen-
sive language to a constable.

‘*T did,’’ replied the complainant.

‘‘And yet, you know, we are descended
from monkeys.’’

To which the constable made answer:

‘““You might be—I am not.”’

———-e-e

Father (to dramatic manager)—‘‘You

have heard the voice of my son, at role

 

story of his son’s awful end.

do you think he ought to study?”
anager—‘‘That of auctioneer, sir.’?

| Was as quick as a cat and slippery as an eel.
) In vain the squat rancher tried to imprison
|the smaller man in his embrace and hold
him there long enough to crush him to the
floor; Sim would twist about and slip away,
to leap back in an instant and renew the
fight. ‘

he»rancher’s eyes were blazing, and he
snarled fierce words through bis yellow
teeth, while the look on his ugly face was
murderous.

‘*You’ve been playin’ crooked all ther
| time!’’ he grated. ‘‘ You got my men drunk
so you c’u’d open ther door an’ let them
young whelps in‘hyar.’’

‘*You’re a derned good guesser, pard,”’
admitted Sim, between his panting breaths.
‘*An’ you wuz a bigger fool then I took yer
ter let me fill ther galoots up with bug-
juice.”’

**You’re trick won’t work. Ther kids
won’t dare.come back hyar now——’’

Crash !

The glass from the window fell rattling
and jingling to the floor, and the voice of
Don Kirk exultantly cried:

pace where you make a mistake, Shaw-
nagan! We are here!”’

Then he vaulted through the window into
the room, followed quickly by’ Injun | Pete
and Aubry Beauchamp. Shawnagan gave a
shout to arouse his sleeping companions,
but the whiskey-soaked wretches slept on,
and the rancher found that he alone was
left to face the foe, for Colonel Cawthorne
was in no condition to render assistance.

Overcome by sudden fear, the man at-
tempted to break away and escape through
the broken window, but the boys were too
quick for him, and he found himself a pris-
oner.

The inebriated colonel tried to get on his
feet to take a hand, but he fell back limply
against the wall, and continued to sit there,
staring owlishly, at what was taking
place.

Being disarmed and seeing the foolishness
of offering further resistance, Shawnagan
surrendered.

‘‘Disarm every man, Pete,’’ directed Don,
and the half-blood proceeded to obey the
order.

Shawnagan sat down sullenly on the box,
from which Lopez Vargas had toppled to
the floor, giving the body of the unconscious
Mexican a savage kick as he did so.

Silver Sim proceeded to roll the sleeve
on his left arm above the elbow, exposing
a bleeding wound, where a bullet from
Shawnagan’s revolver had clipped away a
piece of flesh.

‘“You’ve got ter “low-I’m a mighty quick
dodger, pard,’’ grinned the cow-puncher,
addressing the diseomfited rancher. ‘Ef |
hedn’t bin, you’d ’a’ bored me, sure.”’

‘‘T’ll do it, yet!’’ growled the ruffian.
‘‘T’ve got a grudge ag’in yer now, Sim Dol-
| liver, thet’ll never be settled. till one ur
t’other of us is planted.’’

‘*Sim,’’ said Don, coming up to the old
eons ‘‘T believed you had turned traitor,
and——’’

‘‘Wa-al, I don’t blame ye,’’ cheerfully
declared the wiry little cattleman. ‘‘I gitv
yer good reason ter b’lieve thet.”’

‘‘Still I want to ask your ‘pardon for
doubting you. Never again shall I lose faith
in you, no matter what may bappen.’’

“*Glad ter hear ye say thet, by thunder!’’
cried Sim, as he warmly grasped the boy’s |
hand. ‘‘But thet don’t excuse my derned
foolishness none whatever.’’ NY eae

‘““What do youmean?”? SPs,

‘Ef I bedn’t bin a blamed old fool these

 

 
 

f GOOD

NEWS.

 

 

47830

galoots what yer see knocked out by tangle-
foot wouldn’t hev got in hyar.”’

Then he explained how he had come over
to ‘‘The Fort’? for a drink to take the cold
out of his bones, and how he had stopped to
take several, giving the enemy time to get
into the pocket and come upon him by sur-
prise. He did not attempt to excuse his own
folly or neglect of duty, and he seemed
rather disappointed when Don failed to scold
him.

‘‘T didn’t reckon you wuz ther boy ter go
off an’ give up gittin’ yer mine back, an’ I
"lowed you wuz within hearin’ 0’ my voice
when I wuz.singin’,’’ he said. ‘‘It wuz pritty
hard work ter make believe drink all ther
time arter these critters came hyar an’ not
swaller a drop; but I done it, though I
judge both my boots are nigh full o’ ther
stuff thet run down my neck on ther outside.’’

Don complimented him on his crafty strat-
agem, and, taking everything into considera-
tion, the cowboy felt pretty well satisfied
with the outcome of the affair.

With the empty bottle still hugged in his
arms, Colonel Cawthorne was nodding
where he sat with his back against the wall,
his eyes closed and his reddish mustache,
that usually bristled so defiantly, having a
doleful droop. He had not seemed to realize
what had taken place, and now he was past
giving it a thought.

After a short consultation, it was decided
to make the captives secure, so they could
not do any harm when they came from ‘be-
neath the influence of liquor, and some
strong cords were brought for the purpose.

At first it seemed possible that Shawnagan
would offer some résistance. If he contem-
plated such a thing, he did nothing of the
sort, although he muttered fierce and pro-
fane words, swearing over and over that the
day would come when he could square his
account with them all.

‘*You have had your turn,’’ said Don,
‘‘and it is now my opportunity. You have
only yourself to blame that you are here.’’

‘*What do you propose to do with me?’’

‘tT haven’t decided.’’

‘*What would you do with usif the situa-
tion were reversed?’’ asked Aubry. ‘‘The
chances are more than even that not one of
us would ever leave this pocket.’’

‘*You may kill me ef ye want to,’’ said
the rancher, ‘‘but don’t fergit thet I let ye
off the day past when my men had ye under
their rifles an’ could hev shot ye all down
in yer tracks.’’ :

‘That shall count in your favor,’’ assured
Don, ‘‘but with this day ends all such
favors.’’

*‘Thet’s right,’? nodded Shawnagan. ‘‘Ef
I’d ordered ye all shot then an’ thar we
wouldn’t hev been your prisoners now, and
this mine we could have held.’’

‘¢And if I had allowed Silver Sim to use
his rifle at our first encounter back in the
ravine, you never would have lived to reach
this pocket.’’

Shawnagan did not deny this, and- he re-
lapsed into sullen silence, scowling blackly
and grinding his yellow teeth now and then.

Having recovered his property without loss
of life or without shedding blood, Don Kirk
resolved not to lose it again in a foolish man-
ner, and so, during the remainder of the
night, he saw that the captives were closely
guarded.

In the morning, after a consultation, it
was decided to set the ruffians at liberty, as
it was not feasible to hold them captive for
any length of time. Their weapons and am-
munition the boys confiscated, and then,
having liberated the feet of the men, who
had awakened from their. drunken sleep,
they marched the entire gang toward the
bluff over which the lasso dangled.

The captives were a wretched, miserable-
looking set, as they staggered along with
swollen eyes and aching heads, all their
spirit seeming to have oozed out of their lop-
ping bodies. Although they had awakened
from their drunken orgie to find themselves
helpless in the hands of their ~ enemies,
weer one of them had enough life or am-
bition left to ask how it came about.

Aubry suggested giving them something
to eat before turning them out of the pocket,
but Don said they could not spare the pyo-
visions, and there was no reason why they
should do so, and thus it came about that
the captives were marched with empty
stomachs toward the bluff.

Not knowing if Shawnagan could ascend
the lariat without assistance, Don wondered
if any of the others would be in condition
to get up, even with the assistance of numer-
ous clefts in the rock where they could rest
their feet.

Lopez Vargas, however, declared he could
climb, and he was the first whose hands
were released. Don ordered him to ‘‘shin
up the rope’’ and stand ready to assist his
comrades, but the Mexican hesitated and
looked at the youthful owner of Phantom
Mine, appealingly.

‘‘Well, what is it?’’ the boy demanded.

‘*My revolvers, senor,’?’ was the humble
reply. ‘‘You have-a them,”’’

**You are right, and Iam going to keep
them for the present, as confiscated weapons
of war. Do you fancy Iam fool enough to
turn you hyenas loose and give you guns _ to
shoot down at us from the top of the bluff?
If you do, you are greatly mistaken.’

‘*You steal-a revolvares!’’ hissed the Mexi-
ean. ‘‘Gringo, t’ief!’’

 

Don instantly collared Lopez, as he re-
torted :

‘¢Take it back, or I will give you a drub-
bing. Don’t touch him, boys. he is a man,
and his hands are free. He ought to be able
to defend himself.’’

But Lopez had no heart for fighting, and
he quickly apologized, in the most humble
manner, whereupon Don set, him free, say-
ing:

ey do not propose to keep your guns, and
you will find them at the store in Blue Pass
two weeks from to-day, if you call for
them. Till that time I do not propose to give
them up.’’

‘*We can buy some more,’’ growled Shaw-
nagan.

‘“‘Kxactly,’’ smiled Don, ‘‘and that is
what I expect you to do. But you will have
to go as far as Blue Pass, at least, to get
them, and so we shall not be troubled with
you for a little time.’’

‘*You’ll hear from us later, all right, an’
thar’l] be no more monkeyin’.’’

‘*By that time we shall be ready for you.
Go ahead, greaser.’’

Giving Don a murderous look, the Mexi-
can began to climb up the lariat.

CHAPTER XXVI.
DON MAILS A LETTER.

(x NE by one the baffled claim-jumpers
&8 climbed and were dragged up the
face of the bluff, the puffing, be-
“CASS~ draggled, miserable colonel being the
last. The ruffians would have drawn up the
lariat, but Don was watching for such a
move, and he promptly used as a ‘‘per-
suader’’ a rifle which Injun Pete had brought
along. :

‘*Drop that rope!’’? he ordered, as he
pointed the weapon at the man whose hands
grasped the lariat.

The order was promptly obeyed.

‘‘T hope we are seeing the last of them,”’
said Aubry, as the five men toiled up the
ascent from the pocket.

‘‘Well, we are not, and you may bank on
that,’’? assured Don. ‘‘They are baffled for
the time, but Ben Shawnagan is not the
man to give over a battle so easily. We shall
bear from them again very soon.’’

As he said this, he saw the squat rancher
turn to shake a square, ham-like fist at the
four triumphant adventurers, and Shawna-
gan’s gesture plainly said:

‘<T’ll get at you again before long,’’

‘*It may hey bin all right ter set them yar
coyotes adrift,’’ said Silver Sim, dubiously,
‘‘but I hev my doubts.’’

‘*We couldn’t keep them unless we starved
them to death,’’ said Don. ‘Besides that, I
didn’t want them to bother with. We have
no place to confine such creatures, and they
would have been more of a menace than any-
thing else, for they might have escaped and
turned the tables when such a thing was
least expected.”’

That they had come most fortunately
througl an affair that had once assumed the
aspect of a most appalling disaster, was cer-
tain, and all felt that they might thank for-
tune it had resulted so well.

Returning to the mine, they ate a hearty
breakfast, discussing plans for the future
over their hard bread and coffee.

It was Don’s conviction that Shawnagan
would return with a still larger number of
followers, and that a desperate and bloody
battle must ensue.

‘‘In that case, we should seek reinforce-
ments without delay,’’ said Aubry.

‘*We need them,’’ admitted Don, ‘‘but
how are we to obtain men we can trust?’’

That was a question not so easily answered,
but, after a. time, the young mine-owner
said:

‘*Tf I could get word to Owen North, he
would raise the men I want.’’

‘(Can’t you do so??’

‘*T would have to leave the mine, and I
cannot telegraph from Blue Pass, as there is
no station there.’’

‘*Send a letter,’’ suggested Silver Sim.’

‘* A letter travels slowly, but I see no other

ay. I must mail a letter to Owen North,

nd we must hold this mine against a bhun-
dred men, if necessary, till he can get here
with help.’’

‘*We'll hold her or bust, old man,’’’ cried

Aubry, vehemently. ‘‘You can count on
us.
‘*If I leave you to go to Blue Pass you
must guard this property with your lives
while 1 am absent. I would not be pleased
to return and find Shawnagan again in pos-
session.”’

‘*Tf that should happen, you would also
find us here—but we would not be living,’’
assured the rancher’s son. ‘‘We will stay by
the mine and hold it as long as we breathe.’’

Don took a little time to think the matter
over, and he finally decided that Owen
North should be notified of their situation
and appealed to for aid. That might be the
only course to save the mine, for it was
more than possible that Shawnagan would
return with a great mob of ruffians to wrest
the property from its new owners.

Having settled this matter in his mind,
Don proceeded to write a letter to his law-
yer. The letter was written on a leaf torn
from a note-book he constantly carried, and
he skillfully constructed an envelope of
another sheet.

 

‘*T will stick the flap down with postage
stamps when I get to Blue Pass,’’ he said.

In the letter Don briefly related the ad-
ventures through which he had passed since
parting with North, explained the peril of
his present situation, and appealed to the
lawyer to raise a dozen trusty men and
hasten to his aid.

‘*He will not lose time about getting the
men together and making for this locality,’’
declared the boy mine-owner. ‘‘I will en-
close Darlton’s chart with the letter, so he
cannot go astray; otherwise he might not
be able to find this pocket in a month of
steady searching.’’

‘You want to look sharp that letter,
chart, and yourself do not fall into Shawna-
gan’s hands on your way to Blue Pass,’’
said Aubry.

‘‘Thet’s right,’’ nodded Silver Sim. ‘‘ Keep
your eyes skinned fer thet thar varmint, an’
don’t let ther cirtter git his hands on yer
none whatever. It’s a mighty dangerous
thing, this yar goin’ alone ter Blue Pass.’’

Don well knew that it was dangerous, but
he would not listen to Sim when the cowboy
proposed to go along also.

‘“You stay here and help protect the
mine, if necessary ,’’ directed the boy. ‘‘ You
will render me a great deal more assistance
in that manner, if you do not get drunk.’’

‘*No danger o’ thet,’’ grinned the old fel-
low, sheepishly. ‘‘It took all ther whiskey I
had ter fill up Shawnagan’s brats. Thar
hain’t so much as one little teenty-tonty
swaller left fer me ter wet my tongue with.”’

‘*So much the better. You area good man
Sim, when you let the stuff alone,’’

Having thrust a lunch into one of his
pockets and seen that everything was all
right about the mine, Don was ready to
start. They accompanied him to the lower
end of the dangling lariat, where he swung
his Winchester to his back, and clambered
up the face of the bluff like a cat.

‘‘Don’t one of you leave ‘The Fort’ to go
farther than the mouth of the mine till I get
back,’’ he shouted down to them. ‘‘Keep a
guard all the time, night and day, and if
you have to fight to protect the property,
do not monkey. Make every bullet tell. It
is useless to show those ruffians further
favors.’?

They returned to ‘‘The Fort,’’ from which
they watched him till he had mounted to
the distant summit, where he turned to
wave his hand to them, and then disap-
peared.

‘‘Thar goes one o’ ther most wonderful
youngsters thet ever stood on two hoofs,’’
declared the cowboy. ‘‘I’ve kept track o’
him from ther time he struck ther West till
now, an’ his life’d make a story nigh as big
as ther yarn about a feller called Aladdin,
what I one time heard a galoot say he read
in a book. Don Kirk basa way o’ comin’
out on top o’ ther heap in nigh about ev’ry-
thing, an’ I low ef I wuz Ben Shawnagan
I’d keep wide o’ him,’’

‘*What if Don never comes back?’’ specu-
lated Aubry, who had suddenly grown dis-
pirited. ‘‘What show will we have against
Shawnagan and his gang?”’

‘*We are but one less.”’

‘*And I feel as if three-fourths of our
number were gone.”’

‘*Thet shows how much confidence ye put
in Don Kirk, an’ I don’t reckon ye make
no mistake whatever.’’

TInjun Pete said nothing, and his expres-
sionless face did not betray the thoughts
passing through his mind.

Not a sign of the enemy did Don discover
on his journey to Blue Pass, although he
was constantly on the watch, not knowing
what moment he might come full upon them.
But they had found horses to mount after
passing over the ridge that shut Lost Pocket
in from the rest of the world, and no ani-
mal of the sort had awaited Don, which
seemed to indicate that Shawnagan had
confiscated the adventurers’ abandoned
beasts.

It was near noon of the second day when
Don came boldly into Blue Pass and entered
the general store, where the post-office was
also located. He found the storekeeper and
postmaster on the point of locking the mail-
bag, and, on inquiry, was informed that an
east-bound train was due in a very few
minutes.

‘‘T have a letter here that I wish to go,’?.

said the boy. ‘‘If you will wait a moment,
I will have it ready.’’

The postmaster said he would wait, and
Don purchased a dozen stamps, eleven of
which were used to seal the envelope secure-

ly.

While he was thus employed, he heard a
footstep near at hand, and glanced round
quickly to find Jake Shackett standing with-
in two feet of his elbow.

Shackett was not a little surprised at sight
of the boy, and Don was by far the cooler
of the two at that moment,.for he deliber-
ately finished sticking down the stamps, ap-
parently paying very little attention to the
man who was one of his bitterest foes. All
the time, however, he was aware that
Shackett was looking at the letter, and he
was ready for the move when the ruffian
made a grab at it, crying:

‘‘T’ll take thet thar !’’

Like a flash the letter went behind Don’s
back, and, with astonishing suddenness, a re-
volver seemed to leap into the lad’s hand.
Shackett recoiled, with a savage exclama-

tion, as the cold muzzle of the weapon came
against his forehéad.

‘‘How’d it git thar?’’ he muttered, won-
deringly, for he had not seen Don make a
move to draw the revolver, yet the weapon
had appeared most magically in the lad’s
grasp.

‘“Don’t get too near, or an unfortunate ac-
cident may happen,’’ warned the boy in
whose hand the bright weapon lay without
the least quiver. ‘‘It is possible this gun 18
loaded.’’

Shackett glared fiercely.

‘‘Give me thet thar letter,’? he snarled.

‘‘Tt isn’t addressed to you, sir.’’

‘*T don’t keer a rap who it’s addressed ter,
I want it, an’ I’m goin’ ter hey it.’’

‘*You won’t receive it of me.’’

Don tossed the letter to the postmaster,
who quickly dropped it into the mail-bag,
which he finished locking.

‘‘T don’t give a dern who I git it of,”
said Shackett, ‘‘but I'll hev it now, any-
way. Hand over thet thar bag, Dibson.’’

‘*T can’t do it,’’ replied the postmaster.
“It ain’t ’lowable.

The big ruffian gave a roar of rage.

‘<1 don’t keer a hoot ef it is ’lowable ur
not,’’ he shouted, ‘‘you’ll’ hand over thet
thar bag, ur I’ll blow ther hull roof of yer
head off !’? }

Snatching outa revolver, he pointed it
at the postmaster, the pressure of his finget
on the trigger causing the self-acting ham-
mer to rise ominously. !

Dibson turned pale and hesitated. He was
not a brave man, and he saw murder 1D the
reddish eyes of the big brute who held the
menacing weapon.

Shackett seemed to have forgotten Dov
Kirk at that moment, but the boy was ready
for the emergency. Once more the com
muzzle of his revolver touched the ruffian’
head, and then, in an instant, the weapon
that covered the postmaster was ior
from the grip of the fingers that held ™%
being harmlessly discharged.

‘‘Steady !’’ rang out Don’s voice, !
flung the revolver to the floor, still keepit®
his own gun at the man’s head. ‘‘I scarcey
think you will interfere with the transi
sion of the United States mail to-day, 74
Shackett.’’

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE POSTMASTER’S WARNING.

\ east-bound train was heard. +9
Y ‘*Take out the mail, postmaster,
© directed Don. ‘‘Mr, Shackett W?
remain here with me,’’ nd
The baffled ruffian ground his teeth 4 i
glared at Don, but there was a look 0” ae
boy’s face that warned him to have @ Oring
Indeed, at that moment, well understan z
his own peril, Don would not have hes! ‘ted
to shoot, knowing his life might be forfe!
if he did not.

b T this moment the whistle of the

came from’behind the counter with

mail-bag and hastened from the store | 144
‘‘What’re ye goin’ ter do, boy! erage
Shackett, a bit uneasily, for, despe sing
though he was, he did not fancy sta?
under the muzzle of a loaded revolver: train
‘‘T am going to keep you here till the id
leaves,’ replied Don, quietly, ‘‘YouW?",,
be able to interfere with my letter the
‘*Who wuz ther letter to?’’
‘“That is none of your business.”’
Shackett glared again, his fingers
with a grasping motion that tol
er 04 oe ah on the throat °
calm, pale-faced lad. +n]
Don mee no bravo, although he cortaint
was a brave boy, and the situation W4
relished by him, but he had no th
letting the letter to Owen North a r
the hands of the enemy, as that wou t
his plans. The appearance of Shack? ,
been most unwelcome, but the We
nervy, and his experience in the fs
taught him that ‘‘shootin’ irons er inst
men equal, and the galoot that dra
'has the best show,’’ so he was Trea 2
his revolver to baffle the big TU fist.
had once felt the weight of his hard
Seeing there was nothing for, ! Jess ait
meet the man boldly and witha oeney were
Don had ‘‘played his cards for all see
worth,”” and his hand certainly ig
‘*ood.’ ; er
ey reckon ye’re sendin’ somew hl gp!
help,’’ speculated the big desper tag? ee

moving

how the

ef thet’s so, ye’re wastin’ P ssid
Shawnagan an’ me will have Po” pyat
ther mine before yer friends kin Ba.) “pay
We’ ve got twenty men now, @ 1 um net yar
an’ hot fer fight. We'll start fer :
pocket ter-night.’’ proms,
‘Start as soon as you please. .- there.
you a hot reception when you arty” ceive
‘‘Wa-al, you may not be thar ou or
us,’’ said Shackett, significantly. pot 8

here in Blue Pass now, an’ y®
back.’? : me?”
‘*Are you thinking of stopping one thet
‘You'll find I ain’t ther only
be ready ter stop yer, boy-
grudge ag’in’ yer, an’ I propos?
right soon. You’ll be toes up te
before shortly, my lad.’’ threat

1
a
Pen
ther dais!?

orn
xt 4

 

you sounds rather amusing-

: ou fi
a fancy to put one of my enemies

as he |

With a breath of relief, the postmast

‘*Under the circumstances, what if f the
0

oe

 
 

er,

er,
1S

 

 

Ce eS

en

 

= ee

 

GrooDp

NEWS.

4781

 

way by giving a little pull at this trig-
ger?’

» **Ver don’t dar’ do it.”’

For all of his words, the big ruffian was
far from easy, and he was strongly tempted
to duck and make a plunge for Don, run-
ning his chance of getting in under the re-
Volver without receiving a bullet. But, as
if he read the man’s very thoughts, Don re-
treated a step, saying, warniugly:

‘‘It will not be healthy for you to try that
trick, Shackett. I am on my guard, and I
sive you my word that I shall shoot to kill

. if you make the break.’?

hat was quite enough, and Shackett
abandoned the project, although the expres-
Sion of his face told with what reluctance
he gave over the hope of surprising Don and
Overcoming him by a sudden movement.

hus the young mine-owner held the des-
perado beneath the muzzle of the revolver
till the train had completed its stop at Blue
Pass and steamed out of the town on its
Way east.

The letter to. Owen North was on its way.
Would the desired aid arrive in time?

The postmaster re-entered the store, fol-

Owed by. two or three loungers, who stared
at the Man and boy in surprise.
Having no reason to keep Shackett longer,
Don made him march straight out of the
door, warning him not to come back, if he
Wished to keep a whole skin.

_ the lad was regarded with sincere admira-
tion by the postmaster and the men who had
Seen him handle the big desperado, and, in
Sey to his questious, they told him that
PAawnagan had added to his force the
Pa enest and most dangerous men of the
mace and had sent to Buxton for others.
i ® rancher was arming his followers, and
s erything seemed to indicate that they
t re going on an expedition that might lead
: ay where they would need shooting-irons

n panty a ammunition.

US Was highly interesting to Don, for it
eatin him how determined the desperate
Mine er was to seize and hold Phantom

®, and it convinced him that he had not

Hue anything foolish in sending to Owen

orth for aid.

‘ on was hungry, and he first obtained a
quare meal, after which he set out to look
phi orse; but the animals were even
ae than on his first appearance in Blue
Gide: and he spent the afternoon in a vain

Savor to secure any kind of a creature.
ese? Saw nothing of Shackett or Shawna-
the ia noush he moved fearlessly about
assaul 8 place, more than half-expecting an
ult from his enemies at any moment.
°f Was well pleased that he did not find a
ga for he did not actually desire one.
bie about for a beast that he might
fall ae excuse to remain in town till night-
sa ell knowing how foolish it would be

art for the mine in the broad light of
pene he might be followed and run
With ease by his enemies. Under cover
tkness he would depend on his craft to
them the slip or baffle them in some
nt BL Just as night fell that he started for
ast ee Ridge. The postmaster was the
indiviq on from whom he parted, and _ that
ear: ual ventured to whisper in the boy’s

hoy

give
Way

“Look © ve u

‘ ut fer snags, lad. Thar’s fi

six gs, s five ur
Sone that way ahead of ye this after-

Most An Jake Shackett wuz with ’em.
Somewhere, they’re waitin’ fer ye up there

Warn thanked him for his kihdly meant

ng, and then turned his face resol
w ace resolutely
wateheae® barren range. The postmaster

t till the s ] well-knit figur
me] e supple, well-kn gure
the te2 into the darkness that spread over
“Ho “hills of the Black Ridge.

the a &nervy young galoot,’’ muttered
“but un as he turned to enter the store;
or S More’n likely he’ll never be seen
don’t ‘ of again. He’s made enemies what

°unt murder as anything more than

fun
» 8nd they'll have his skelp this night.’’
(TO BE CONTINUED, )
——————>—_2~<__—_
DRINK OR TEMPERANCE?

“y anPerance orator
fluenced He” how his own life had been _in-
tov Py total abstinence.
MY deparin’, Said he, ‘‘that Iam chief of
two me ment. Three years ago there were
Perior to M our office who held positions su-
drunkdnnen’: One was dismissed through
and is ieee: the other was led into crime,
Ment, and Serving a long term of imprison-
dai all through the influence of strong

 

was describing to

eg oqnent. What I ask,’ he cried, grow-

Present };., What has raised me to my
“Drink ps position?’?

Pecteq en was the vociferous but unex-

Number f. Y,. which he received from a
OF the audience,

A RETORT.
en é ea '
is Berlin yy 2immerman was at the Court
n ‘ ies ederick IT. asked him one day,
a ae if he could ascertain how
ico, ‘killed in the course of, his
at j
: “pen arduous task,’’ replied the
think I may venture to say
any as your majesty.’’

 

‘Qur §Tamp (ALBUM.

STAMP FRAUDS.
i CCORDING to reports, a man named
WA * Williams has been trying to defraud
ARN the Scott Company and the Mekeel
“> Company. Certified checks were
sent from various places, for sums varying
from $600 to about $2,000, which were pro-
nounced at the time worthless, but as we
have heard nothing further about it, it may
have been through some blunder or mis-
understanding.
* oS * *

Stamps are beginning to bea standard
article of merchandise, and consequently an
attraction for our most expert thieves.

Burglar Barrett, of Boston and New
York, had a collection worth over $6,000
which he had stolen from one of the firm of
Kidder, Peabody & Co., the great Boston
bankers.

Recently a man was caught stealing
papers from the Treasury Department in
Washington and removing the stamps and
signatures. He had done a large business in
this direction before being detected.

But the last ‘‘burgling’’ of stamps—as
well as articles of value—is the queerest.
The thief used a fish-hook and line, and had
made a regular business of robbing the large
mail-boxes containing packages, etc., and
even made regular visits to post-office sta-
tions, the job being done so quickly and
perhaps with his back to the box, that for a
long time he was not suspected. He is now
in Ludlow street jail.

* * * *

R. P. C., Watkins, N. Y.:—Your stamp
is a reprint, or in other words, a counter-
feit. You might sell it for 15c. to some per-
son that wished it only as such.

* * * *

W.L., Pierre, 8. D.:—Your eleven stamps
are worth $1.60.
* * * *

J. J., Jersey City, N. J.:—Your stamp is
worth Ie.

*

* * *

E. C., Far Rockaway, L. I. :—Your stamps
are worth as follows: 1, 3, 3, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 1,
1, 1, 2, 1, 4, 20e.

* * * *

T. F. 8., Hartford City, Ind.:—Your
stamps are worth 25c. cash.

* * * *

G. D. G., Fanfield, Maine:—Your two
postage stamps are worth Ic. each, and the
le. blue revenue 15c. The le. green is worth
10e. You might sell them for 15c. A dealer
would not give you over that.

* * * *

Plate numbers in United States stamps
are all the rage now. A New York dealer
offers to pay sixty per cent. over the face
value for any under the 100 number. Old
issues with these numbers are especially de-
sired, and fancy prices paid for them. A
24c. purple with the plate number 21 sold
for $150 at a recent private sale, while
others brought from $1 up. Collectors who
had stamps with these numbers on, and tore
them off, are very sorry now.

* * * *

2c., 8c., and 10c. Columbians are still on
sale at many of the post-offices in small
towns, and collectors having friends in such
would do well to have them inquire, as al-
though many hundreds of thousands were
issued, as you may see by the list following
A. W.’s answer, they are very rare—that
is, in one way, viz., if you wish to purchase
one, you have to pay about’ three times the
face value, but to sell one—well, two cents
over the face value is about what you will
average, and only that in certain stamps.

* * * **

The Scott Stamp and Coin Company have
been slowly selling off their stock of coins
for some time, and intend dealing only in
stamps. They report that there is no longer
any money to be made in coins, stamps
haying taken their place. There is also a
rumor that the firm will change their name,
but it is not well based.

* aes, 2 *

A philatelic expert says there are 2,849
different United States stamps. How many
have one-tenth of this number?

* * * i

Among the stamps sold at a recent sale,
and the prices realized were: Spain, 2 reals,
1851, $140, and $135 for a twelve pence
Canada.

* * * *

G. H, B., New York:—Your Columbian
stamps that you say are a dark brown and
red, were colored by coming in contact with
some stamp of that color while in soak.
They are not worth any more than those of
the original color. Your. 2c. envelope is
worth Ile.

* * * *

L. D. B., St. Louis, Mo.:—Your first
stamp is a 3c. blue 1869 reprint, and worth
#1.50. The other two are of the 1862-66
issue, and worth 2c, each.

* * * *

P. H., Hickman, mh :—Your 22 stamps

are worth 1c. each. These stamps are so

| certain persons, asking why their questions

 

common that being in pairs would not make
them sell for more.
*e * *

M.S8., Oakland, Maine:—Your two stamps
are the 25c. Certificate, and worth lc. each.
If in a pair they would sell for about 10c.
Your postage due stamp is worth 5c.

* * * *

A. W., Blauchester, Ohio:—Stamp 1 is a
10e. brown 1872 and worth 2c., 2 is a 3c.
green same date and worth Ic., 3 is a 2c.
vermilion 1875 and worth Ie., 4 is a 3c.
1869 reprint and worth $1.50, 5 is a 2c. green
1882 and worth le. The stamps 6 and 7 are
of the same date, and worth ic. and 10c. re-
spectively.

* * * *

B. R. B., Rochester, N. Y.:—Yes. You
would do well to invest in the 5c. and 10c.
Columbians; the 5c. especially, as it sells for
12¢c. easily. You can rely on any answer we
give to correspondents in thispaper. Some-
times we are unable to answer the questions
at once, but they are answered in the next
paper. We have received a few letters from

had not been answered. We thought that
every reader of this paper knew that it is
fully three weeks before the paper that con-
tains the answers are placed on sale.

* * ** *

A. W., Stoneham, Mass.:—Yes. We can
give you the list, although it. will take up
quite a space. First we will give an account
as taken from the Third Assistant Post-
master General’s report.

Columbian stamps issued during the period
assigned to their distribution, 7%. e., from
January 2, 18938, to December 31, 1893.
(Actually from December 17, 1892, to De-
cember 28, 1893.)

Prior to 38d Quar- 4th Quar-

 

 

 

July 1, 1893. ter, 1893. _ ter, 1893, Total.

L cent. 246,647,300 35,540,300 157,064,700 439,252,300
2 cent. 737,401,000 151,971,500 571,917,200 1,461,289,700
3cent. 7,559,100 1,746,100 1,922/600 ° 11/227'800
4cent. 14,676,200 1,581,700 2,768,650 19,026,550
Scent. 20,007,360 4,438,380 10,701,260 35,247,000
6cent. 2,723,050 504,300 1,101,050 —«4,329,200
Scent. 4,782,050 765,750 5,101,800 10,649,600
10 cent. 8,938,150 1,862,690 5,683,370 16,484,210
15 cent. 1,074,000 (169,800 802.940 —‘1,546,740
30 cent. 38,820 43,990 116,440 599,250 |
50cent. 151,706 10,916 37,044 189,666
$1.00 32.777 9,238 12/455 54,470
$2.00 16,476 1,250 5,395 23,129 |
$3.00 13,938 538 3,805 18,281
$4.00 12:736 600 4,075 17,419
$5.00 12,732 2,613 2,540 17/885

Value. $21,059,238 $4,088,180 $14,917,577 $40,064,995

jp

HOW THE CADETS OBSERVE THE DAY AND

HOW THEY ENJOY FORBIDDEN SWEETS.

allie cenieeniyendy

fo HRISTMAS at West Point bears lit-
4 tle resemblance to the fete else-
where. To be sure there is a holiday
from studies on December 25, and a
hop the night before isa mere mockery of
festivity because of the absence of those
great necessities at a dance—girl partners.
Then, too, in a week comes the dreaded and
severe mid-year examinations, and who has
a heart for rollicking, when to be ‘‘found,”’
as failure is called, means the loss of a com-
mission? Even those cadets whose few de-
merits entitle them toa three days’ leave
often refuse to take it, preferring to remain
at the Academy and study. ~

So the chief joys of Christmas time lie in
the smuggled goodies and dangerous forag-
ing expeditions which the most daring cadets
will undertake despite official vigilance.
There is a strict rule prohibiting the stu-
dents from receiving boxes from home, and
those, therefore, whose parents choose to
disobey regulations run great risks in their
attempts to avoid the watchfulness of the
tactical officers. Not long ago—or so the
story goes—one man was chased across the
snowy plain, dropping bundle after bundle
as he ran. The officer in pursuit is still the
laughing stock of the offender’s class for
having stopped to pick up each package as
it fell.

On the post there is one store where a lim-
ited amount of credit is allowed by the gov-
ernment for each cadet out of debt. The
‘*Boodler’s,’’ as they call it, is‘always close-
ly watched on Christmas Eve, but hardy and
cunning spirits have been known to get the
better of their ‘‘natural enemies.’’ One
cadet, now a sedate officer himself, will long
remember the breathless race up the steep
hill, through waist deep snow-drifts toward
the barracks. He darted past the gymnasium,
making for the western sally-port, only to
be met there by a second officer on the
watch, who joined in the pursuit. The cadet
flew into the old bath-houses and hid while
the officers hunted high and low. At last,
they concluded that in all probability several
others had gotten safely in during their
sedrch, so they drew off their forces and
went back to their posts.

But the saddest thing that happened at
the Military Academy last Christmas was
connected with a wonderful box of good
things sent by a maiden whose heart had
been won by the young soldiers the previous
summer. Those to whom it was sent were
caught red-handed in the act of bringing it
into the barracks. Ordinarily such confis-

 

cated edjbles are served in the mess hall at
the table of the cadet from whom they were

taken, but of this box nothing was ever
heard again. It is said, and there are some
ceredulous enough to believe it, that the
young sinner in the case actually put in a
permit to be credited on his account with
$20 *‘for goods taken from him.”’

It is not to be supposed that many of the
cadets indulge, even at Christmas time, in
that most risky amusement for West Point
ers, breaking regulations Crackers, jam,
candy, or cakes are even then the extent of
their sins. Wine is rarely found among them,
for public opinion at West Point is based on
honor, and sets its face absolutely against
that form of rule-breaking. In general,
Christmas Day is spent in wishing themselves
at home, in planning what they will do
when on furlough or graduation leave, and
on longing for June. Not exciting amuse-
ments, these, but harmless.

eG pe ees

HARRY KEAN’S FIRST CASE.

AN INCIDENT OF STREET LIFE.

———¢————

BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR.

o ee

GFF ERE is where you get your matches
rai —all good— large box only five
A, - cents! Now’s your time—don’t miss
it. Have a box, mister? Only half

a dime!’’

Clear and sharp the boyish tone fell on
the ears of the passers-by. The s:ene was
one of New York’s crowded streets. But the
rushing throng paid little heed to the ragged
vender and his wares.

‘*Why don’t they buy more to-day?’’ he
muttered, as he moved through the jostling,
hurrying, heedless mass of human beings
into a street less crowded. ‘‘Here’s your
last chance—only five cents a box—two
boxes for nine——’’

The youthful speaker suddenly ended his
sentence witb an exclamation of surprise.

A young girl of not more than ten years,
with her disheveled hair streaming in the
air and a look of fear upon her face, had
crossed the street and darted into one of the
alleys, closely pursued by a couple of boys
several years her seniors.

The match boy had recognized the parties,
and without delay he rushed after them.

Reaching the alley, he found that the girl
had been overtaken, or else she had turned
defiantly at bay, for she stood before her
enemies with a idol of fear and desperation.

‘*You sha’n’t have it!’’? she cried. ‘‘I
found it, and it is mine.’’

‘“*We'll see, Nickie, ’bout thet,’’ said the
larger of the boys. ‘‘But stop yer racket,
or the cops’l] snap us all up!”’

At the same time he made a swift swoop
to seize a package she held in her hands.

Before he could touch her, however, the
match boy had reached the spot, and the
speaker was hurled back against the brick
wall that rose just behind him.

‘‘Don’t ye dare to lay a hand on Nickie,’’
he said, in a low, firm tone.

The other quickly recovered himself and
for a moment it seemed that he would at-
tack the daring protector. His companion,

,too, was ready to lend his assistance.

‘*You can if you want to,’’ said the un-
daunted match boy, coolly. ‘‘But ye re-
member the last time I lifted yer??’

‘*What are ye alwus pokin’ yer fist inter
other folkses’ mush fer?’’ growled the other.
‘‘She’s got something thet’s mine, and I
want it.” - :

‘?Tan’t yourn!’’ retorted the girl, who
had now regained her self-possession. ‘I
saw it first, and I picked it up.”’

‘*Yer didn’t. I had kotched sight of it
afore ye had turned the corner, but ye got
to it fust—only a bit, though. An’t I told
it straight, Den?’’ he continued, appealing
to his companion.

‘Straight as a string, old man.”’

‘*Then ye’ll jess go long ’bout yer biz, Hal
Kean?’’ he said to the match boy.

‘“You won’t let him take it away from
me, will you, Harry?’’ implored the girl.

‘““Trust me for that, Nickie. But what is
all this row ’bout anyway? And’ see, the
lads are comin’ from all ’round. The cops
will smell a rat soon,”’

Boys were beginning to collect about the
place, curious to know what the loud talk
was about.

‘“Tt’s a pocket-book,’’ explained the girl.
‘*T found it in Spider alley——’’

**Ye did——”’

‘*Stop!’? commanded the match ‘boy;
‘‘Nickie an’t through yet. Go on, Nickie.’’

‘‘T have told all, only just as I was pick-
ing up the pocket-book, Mike saw me and
cried out that it was his.’’

‘Let me see it, Nickie.’’

She handed it to him without hesitation.

‘*It’s pretty well stuffed. I guess it be-
longs to some old gent with a big pocket.
But we mustn’t stay here. 1 see brass but-
tons up yender. If you want to settle this,
let’s go down to Dahlgreen’s or some place
where we sha’n’t catch the eye of the cops.’’

Harry turned to lead the way with the
girl, whom we must call, as the others did,
Nickie, by his side.

Mike and his friend sullenly followed, and
a part of the crowd kept along with them,
while the rest dispersed.

Unnoticed by the boys, a man stepped out

 

 
from a corner where he had been watching
the scene, and followed after them keeping
his gaze fixedly upon them lest they should
escape him.

At last the match boy paused.

‘‘We shall not be likely to be disturbed
here; and we can’t find a better place to
settle the dispute.
don’t you know that this property has an
owner somewhere, and it don’t belong to
neither you or Nickie, Mike.”’

‘‘Go ’long, Hal Kean; we an’t fools.
There’s the reward. It'll be big, fer there’s
lots of spon (money) in it.’’

We doubt very much in our minds, how-
ever, if the owner would ever have seen it
had Mike Warden got it into his hands.

‘*I s’pose there are papers to tell who it
belongs to, but we will find first who has
the right to open it. We will just rig outa
jury and do this just as lawyers would.’’

‘*Blow yer lawyers,‘Hal Kean; ye are
alwus getting some big thing inter yer
brain. ’Pears to me ye had better be a law-

yer, whatever that is, than to be sellin’

matches.”’

‘*‘] am goin’ to!’’ replied young
proudly. ‘‘My father was, and just as soon
as I get. money enough Iam going to get
some big books and learn ever so much. But
mother is expecting me home, so we must
&o ahead. Dennis can be judge. You won’t
skip thet?”’

‘*No,’’ replied Mike, sullenly.

‘“‘Then you may pick six of the boys for |

jurymen, and I’jl pick the others,’’

Mike quickly ote; ed, for to speak the
truth, Hal Kean’s word had considerable
weight with his companions. Though ragged
as themselves and living in as,poor a tene-
ment as any of them, with an invalid mother
to support from his scanty earnings, he
seemed above his surroundings. There was
something in the honest, manly counte-
nance that proclaimed more than an ordinary
intellect.

A striking figure he presented as he im-
paneled his mimic jury, his slight boyish
form clad in a tattered garb, diawn up ina
manner that seemed majestic,

The unknown watcher smiled as he wit-
nessed the proceedings and remained a silent
spectator of the scene.

This was not the first time Harry Kean
had shown his legal tact, but he had never
carried his purpose so far before. The boys
were glad to act their part. It was a new
pleasure for them.

‘Now as Nickie is on the defense, you
must tell your side first, Mike. So go ahead.
Isn’t it all fair so far?’’

‘*S’pose so.’’

‘*And you are willing to go by the judge’s
decision?’’

‘*Yes, only I don’t want to perlaver till
dark,”’

‘*Then go ahead with your story.”

‘“‘There an’t much to tell.” I was comin’
up the street——”’

‘What street?"’

‘‘Peyton. Just then I seed this pocket-
book a-lying in the gutter, when——”’

“What gutter? Be perticuler in speakin’.”’

‘“‘Why, the gutter in Spider alley, of
course. But afore I could get to it the girl
stepped out and picked it up.’’

‘Where did she come from?’?

‘*Crescent street; and as she came around
_ the corner ot that street she could not see
the poeket-book until she got within six feet
of it, while I had seen it before she kem
inter sight,’’ said Mike, triumphantly.

‘*Let’s see,’’ said Harry, slowly, ‘‘Spider
alley runs from Crescent to Peyton street.
You kem up Peyton to the corner when you
saw this pocket-book layin’ in the gutter at
the other end of the alley. Just then Nickie
come down Crescent street and at the corner
of Spider alley saw the pocket-book layin’
almost in Her path.’’

‘‘That’s it,’’ said Mike, eagerly. ‘‘I got
to my corner afore she did to her’n and
were a-looking at the wallet when she kem
inter sight: but she were nearer and picked

it up afore | could get there, But [ told her)

_ to Tet it alone. Now who does it belong to?’’
_ and he looked triumpbantly at the ‘‘jury.’’

‘*How far did you get toward it?”

‘*Oh, ’bout three steps.’’

‘*You hear all that, judge and gentlemen
of the jury?’’ said Harry, to which they
bowed assent. -

‘‘Now, Nickie, you may tell your story,’’

‘“‘There an’t much to tell. It’s just as
Mike says, only he did not speak until I had
picked it up, and I don’t believe he had
seen it.’’

‘‘T had. How could I help4t? I will leave
it to the boys if my case an’t clear,”’

They did not reply by words, but their
looks showed that his case seemed clear to
them.
‘Very well,’’ said Harry, in as confident
a tone as ever, ‘‘you all understand it so
far. Now, let’s go up and see the ground.”’

‘Wat dye want us up there for?”
growled Mike. ‘‘I hev beat yer, so let me
hev my pocket-book, More’n wot-I hev sed

Den here can prove it. He were with me,
want ye, Sticks?’’

“Yes, and I seed the pocket-book myself
just a second arter ye did and afore the gal
kem inter sight, but I an’t so mean as to
claim it,’? ” j

‘‘There! are ye satisfied now, Hal Kean???
cried Mike, triumphantly. ‘‘Hand over my

property.’

/

But in the first place, |

Kean, |

GooDp

‘*Not so fast.
and see the place.
like this.’?

‘*It won’t do any hurt,’’ said Den Sticks,
who, to speak the truth, rather liked serving
in the capacity of ‘‘judge’’ and wished to
| hold upon his commission as long as possible,
So the entire party started at once for
| Spider alley, and it may not be necessary
for us to say that the man who was keeping
such a lynx-eye on their movements fol-
lowed at a respectful distance,

Aeaching’ the corner of Crescent street
Harry told Nickie to. place the wallet as
near as she could to the spot where she had
| seen it. Appealing then to Mike, the latter
agreed to the position.

‘So fur so good. Now let the jury go
down to the corner of Peyton street, where
my opponent stood when he claims he saw
the wallet,’’ said Harry.

The ‘‘judge’’ looked puzzled, and young
Kean’s ‘‘opponent’’ scowled, but the ‘‘jury’?
| nothing loth obeyed their orders.

‘*Tell them when they are at the spot
where you stood, Mike,’’ said the ‘‘judge.”’

‘*Bill Spooner is just where I stood,’’ ex-
claimed Mike : ‘*but I should just like to
know wot ye’re goin’ to do.”’

‘“‘Can you see the wallet there, Bill?’
asked Harry.

‘¢No,??

‘*Come forward three steps, as Mike says
he did, and then see if it is in sight.’’

' **Can’t see it,’’? declared Spooner, when
he had done so, ‘‘and I’m jest the tallness
of Mike,’’

‘*Just as I expected,’’ said Harry, in his
old, quaint way. ‘‘You may come forward
three steps more.’’

The other did so, still to find that the
pocket-book lying in the gutter was invisible
to him.

One by one the other ‘‘jurymen’’ tried
the experiment with the same result. .

‘That will do. Has my opponent any-
thing further to say.’’

‘*It’s a lie; [ could see
trembling with passion.

‘‘That is for the jury tosay, Judge, I
call for the verdict. To me it is as plain as
daylight, and there can be. but one verdict.
Nickie found the wallet, and big Mike War-
den has tried to cheat her out of it. But it

[ insist that the jury go up
They always do in cases

 

|

it.’’ cried Mike,

girl without money, without a home, and
almost without friends, or big Mike Warden,
who is too lazy to work for a living and
tries to cheat it out of defenseless girls.
Does it belong to him or——’’

‘*Nickie!’’? cried the twelve, all in one
voice, before Harry could finish speaking.

 

|}one of the lookers-on who had gathered
| about the spot at that moment.

In an instant ‘‘judge,’? ‘‘jury,’’? and
crestfallen plaintiff in the case had disap-
peared as if by magic, as well as the specta-
tors, leaving Harry and Nickie alone to
meet the officers. 4

The latter, however, merély glanced at
them, and rushed after the startled crowd,

‘Oh, Harry, you are so kind,’’ said she,
with tears in her eyes. ‘‘Now we will have
to find the owner. You will help me, won’t
you?”’

‘*Yes, Nickie. We will go down to the——’”?

‘*T will save you the trouble in that re-
spect,’’ said a voice near at hand, and they
turned to see him who had been a witness of
the whole proceedings. ‘‘The pocket-book is
mine, and it contains over a thousand dol-
lars. I missed it from my pocket and re-
turned to look for it just as the girl found
it. Before I could reach her the bd¥s ap-
peared on the scene, and then in the race
that followed I had hard work to keep her in
sight. When you came fe the rescue, young
man, I was curious enough to wait the re-
sult of your interposition before I made
myself known. I have been very much
pleased with your course, and you are smart
as well as honest.’’

The stranger was well-dressed, spoke very
pleasantly, and seemed honest.

Without hesitation, Nickie held out the
wallet. He shook his head with a smile.

‘*Not till I prove my property,’’ he said.
‘‘T think our friend is too sharp a lawyer to
; allow me to outwit vou.’’

We cannot blame Harry if he was pleased
with the compliment, for it was well.
deserved.

The stranger easily proved his property,
and he not only showed that he was a gen-
tleman, but one of the ablest lawyers in the
oan He soon found that Nickie got her
living by selling flowers, and that Harry
supported himself and an invalid mother
from the sale of his matches. Their home
was in a miserable tenement, though both
the children evidently belonged to families
who had seen better days.

‘*Well, my little girl, your reward shall
be a home with’me if you will come. My
wife will be pleased, I know. And you, my
young friend, I doubt not would be most
pleased to take up the profession I feel you
are so well adapted to follow. Would you
like to come into my office? I will give you
| enough to do to pay your way, and you can
study all of your leisure time,’’
| ‘Oh, sir, if I could,’’? replied Harry, with
| sparkling eyes, ‘‘But I must have a better
home for mother.’’

‘tT will see to that; so you will come, both
of you??? ‘

-

 

is for you to say who shall have it—the little |

** Look out! the cops are coming!’ cried |

NEWS.

They did go, and a bright day was that
for them. We would like to describe the
steady industry aud persistent progress of
our young hero, how step by step he worked
his way along until at last he was not only
admitted to the bar but into the firm of his
kind benefactor, who never regretted the
assistance he had given him, There was an-
other glad day to more than one when
Nickie, as he still deligkted to call her,
though she had a more high-sounding name
then, became his wife. A beautiful and
happy home rewarded their love and trust,

Harry Kean has now won an enviable
reputation in his profession, for honesty and
persistent energy is sure to win; but he will
tell you that the proudest triumph of his
| life was when he laid the foundation of his
i

| future success in winning his first case.
<> © <—_-___—_ —

Sports aud Pastimes of Other Lands,

a

 

|
|
|
|
|

MANY OF WHICH RESEMBLE OUR OWN.

- as

i
r/APANESE boys have several games

f similar to those played in this coun-

try, such as kite flying, hoops, shut-

tlecock (for which latter the foot is
| often employed instead of a_ battledore),
jand so on, while one of their favorite
amusements closely resembles polo.

To play this, a piece of ground is marked
off, at each end of which are two uprights
somewhat like foot-ball goal-posts. Between
them, however, is suspended a screen, in
the center of which is a hole with a network
bag behind it. The players, who are
mounted on tiny ponies, endeavor to pick up
| the ball with an implement looking like a
|combination of racket, spoon, and hockey
| club, and to place it in their opponents’
| goal bag, while the latter do all they can to
| prevent them and to turn the tables. This

game, which dates back for many centuries,

is played with great eagerness in Japan,
{sides being formed and special costumes
| being adopted as in foot-ball.
| Contortionist tricks form another favorite
pastime of Japanese boys, some of whom
adopt it as a profession, and earn their
| living in the streets.
Young Hindoos get as excited over a kind
| of foot-ball as American boys,

In the Tonga Islands boxing and wrestling
are favorite sports. In the latter case the
challenger steps into the middle of the ring,
striking the bent elbow of the left arm
vigorously with the right hand. This action
is a sort of defiance to ail comers—a chal-
lenge to the world in general.

The challenge baving been accepted the
antagonists; after first attending to the
fastenings of thé waistbelts, which they
wear, advance slowly toward each other.
Then, with a hand on each side of his’ /op-
ponent’s belt, the wrestler does his utmost
to hurl] him on his back to the ground.

Two wrestlers who are equally matched
may leave off by mutual consent, while a
beaten man may not wrestle again the same
day.

Another game is played with balls, which
are thrown up into the air and kept there in
much the same manner as is done by jug-
giers, while a third one resembles cup and
ball, but requires far more skill to play it,
a stick with a short cross-piece pointed at
both ends taking the place of’ the cup.

The Dyaks of Borneo, in spite of their war-
like habits, indulge in very tew athletic
sports, as they consider boxing, wrestling,
and games with weapons are likely to bring
bad luck. They have one gymnastic exercise,
somewhat resembling the ‘‘giant’s stride,’’
but apart from this their favorite pastime is
the harmless and unexciting one of cat’s-
cradle!

The Warraus of Guiana have a peculiar
kind cf shield combat, which is thus de-
scribed by a_ spectator: ‘‘Eash champion
grasps the edges of his shield firmly with
both hands, and after various feints and
grimaces to throw his opponent off his
guard, a clash is heard as one springs for-
ward, and _ his shield strikes that of his ad-
versary. The contest is generally one of
mere strength, the shield being pushed for-
ward by the whole force of the body, and
supported by one knee, while the other leg
is extended behind. Sometimes one of the
players is able to push the other off the
ground, or, by a dexterous, slip and thrust
on the flank, to send him rolling. More fre-
quently they remain pressing, panting,
and struggling till exhausted, when the con-
test ceases by mutual consent.’’

In the Sandwich Islands surf-riding is one
of the principal amusements, and is indulged
in by people of all ages, some of the tiniest
children being apparently as much at home
in the water as if indeed they were actually
fishes,

‘In stormy weather, whenever, from any
cause, the always formidable surf increases
in height, numbers of the islanders may be
seen on their little pieces of board, glidin
over the surface of the huge rollers in wiiiok
no boats could live except those expressly
adapted for such work, and very few even
of those.

But besides this, the Hawaiians have a
kind of toboggan game, in which they take,
if possible, even greater interest. ‘To play
this game, which is called holua, a. narrow

 

 

 

path is cut from the summit to the base of —
some convenient mountain, and even Car —
ried along the level ground for a mile or
more. The trench thus formed is’ carefully
laid with grass, every obstruction being re-
moved, so that the papa, as the peculiar
sledge used is named, may glide from top —
to bottom with lightning-like rapidity. i

This papa is from seven to eighteen feet |
in length, and is constructed of two narrow
runners, placed side by side and nearly
meeting at its front end. These are con-
nected with cross-pieces, and some strong
matting is fastened on the broader end,

The players assemble together at the top
of the mountain. One of them seizes his
sledge, runs a few paces with all his might,
and throwing it into the trench, flings him-
self face downward upon it and glides to
the bottom at a terrific pace.

The greatest skill is required in balancing
the frail construction, for if the occupant
leans a hair’s-breadth too heavily.on either
side, or does not succeed in keeping it in the
very center of the path, the shock of its
contact with the edges of the trench 15 50
great that the sledge flies into half a dozen —
pieces, its late occupant performing a somer
sault high in the air, after which his U-
fortunate body goes bounding and leaping
to the bottom of the mountain. In this”
event the player is sure to be severely 1-—
jured, if indeed he succeeds in escaping W}
his life.

The one who travels farthest along the :
trench is the winner, and such is the fascina-
tion which the sport exercises over tH@-
islanders that’ they have been known 10-
stake everything they possess upon it—eve?
to their wives and children. Furthermore
after losing both these and everything 2
they owned, men have been known to 8 a &
their very bones on the game, to be claime@ —
after death for the purpose of being made
into fish-hooks and arrow-heads!

~_———-_$_-<—9-

© .

Ky XCHANGE EPARTMENT-

+

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*

i oe D
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ig
3

 
    
  
    
     
      

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~

7 Street, Richmond, Ind., has paper-bound books, story

- tas forty nec: H. Thompson, Box 72, Amos, W. Va.,

| i

i Sj
, Ubfarien”? Wwenty-f ve N

GooD NEWS.

 

foreign Stamps for a 6c. Columbian, 115,varieties for
Mon Columbian, 800 varieties of United States and
"vari (many rare) for a 30c. ora 50c. Columbian, 200
‘ = es for any volume of Goop NxEws, and fifteen
arieties for every 5-cent novel; must be in good con-
All letters answered, if stamp is inclosed.
MISOBLLANEOUS.—C. ©. Desehus, 721 N. 12th
mae and other reading matter, oil paints, photos,
Mourns! and masquerade costumes, stamp albums,
excha: 8, books, etc., and several thousand stamps to
ty nge for Kombi pocket Kodak, printing press and
*Pe., and electro plater and outfit.
a SA DING MATTER.—Ben. F. Craig, P, O. Box
1 to cago Heights, Ill., has Goop NEws from. No,
a cot number, with the exceptions of the fol-
67, Gs Nos. 39, 40, 42, 49, 50, 51, 52, 56, 57, 59, 60, 61, 62,
124 he 78, 80, 81, 83, 86, 88, 90, 97, 109, 113, 114, 115, 123,
; sax » 156, 202, 223, 237, 269 ; also the following books:
of the Jy York Boy,” by Arthur Lee Putnam ; Perils
by Arte ee ’ by Lieut. R. H. Jayne; ‘Tom Tracy,”
Es Sie Lee Putnam; and “Arthur Helmuth,” by
All jet lis, to exchange for best offer, whole or single.
ters or postals answered as soon as received.
Van PELLANEOUS. -W. E. Cunningham, Danville,
sx bomi 279 to 293 of Goon NEws, one 25-cent book,
camer ¢, libraries, one Log Cabin library, and Gem
not A to exchange for printing press, size of chase
De aller than 3x4, or best offer.
streee DING MATTER.—David Baer, 261 Bainbridge
. 8. . rooklyn, N. Y,, will exchange two new 10-cent
over 100 sie’, bound im paper covers, one containing
funniest > ort stories of adventure, and the other is the
umbi 00k you ever read, for one 8c, or one 1c,
All letten, Stamp (unused); must de in fine condition.
tS answered if stamp is inclosed for reply.
STAM

foreign stamps to exchange tor every 5-cent
Noy ps to exchange tor every 5-cen
png eent him, seventy-five for every 10-cent novel.
or Ovels and receive stamps by return mail.
/ Ponce 2 Dematei, 1326 Dupont street, San
 8very Col; Cal., will give fifty all different stamps for
: Unitea Stem bian stamp above 2 cents, or for every
Novels en ae stamp above 3 cents * also has 100 5-cent
Stamps, Change for United States and Columbian
Hig, SELLA NwOUS,—Harry A. Waldron, 678 W,
- Chriog mae Springfield, Ohio, has a rare collection of
Mn good Some stamps to exchange for a typewriter
for best Ondition, He also has a watch to exchange
el ad offer, All letters answered with stamp in-
go for reply.
BigP NEWS.. -R. V. Perine, P. O. Box 351, West-
ir. On +» has the following to exchange for best
Ning’ orn Silverine open-faced watch in perfect run-
b libraries 6 Cost $6; about 125 5-cent and 10-cent
b al about $25 worth of 50-cent and 25-cent novels,
“pom ar Writers ; three paper-bound boys’ books:
Muth.» be on, by A. Lee Putnam; “Arthur Hel-
vy) Y Edward §. Ellis, and “The Rajah’s Fort-
States Rotaydon. Also five complete sets of United
Make offe Umbian stamps, from 1 cent to $5 (unused),
Quick reply for each or all of the above. Toinsure @
velope Y inclose a:‘stamp, or stamped, self-addressed

MISCELLANKOUS._&.

fi

one ne : : K. Frey, Uniontown, Pa.,
ts, Coat. wig, cost $1.50; pair of black theatrical
eral #4.50 ; the following theatrical plays: ‘The
hts in 9p (he Serf,” ‘‘Cupid’s Capers,” ‘Ten
ar-room,”’ “Down the Black Canyon,”’
a, has maa London 7’ one book, bound in silk and
Onderla by 500 half-tone photographs of America’s
Ole Nds, cost $5.50; lot of reading matter ; one

tigh
Peg

 

bo
thes Und in cloth and gold, contains 500 magic
seleiniy Prof. Hoffman, cost $1.50; to exchange for
Offers for
SH
a has
ranceleq i
en]
ing the Bancet
Norrow 9 «¢
Wau,» ky
ou
Binet i

ingtg
vines
sent Sive one

ype and cuts. All letters answered,

the following sheet music to exchange for
€ stamps—vocal: ‘Darling Nell,”
et You By and By,” ‘Grandma is Rock-
Y to Sleep,’ ‘“Willie’s Coming Home To-
iyeen You Press the Little Button on the
Bam Bells,” “The Hour of Rest,” “Put
“Ask ailligan’s Place,” “The Yaehting Girl in
Arch fe To-morrow ;”’ instrumental, ‘‘Wash-

March,” and “Ohrystenah Schottische.’’
Sheet of this music for every 500 stamps

Borg

Minster st
SOD

: PAPERS.—H. W. Whitney, 723 West:

ae Providence, R. I., has Vols. 6 and 90
ha sabae one volume of another boys’ paper
Rivient & pair of roller skates or eight bound
an nture ; 100 boys’ papers for book called
Uy Robinson.”

ek Emest Moore, Mooresfield, Ark.. has a
° Ph camera and outfit to exchange for a
€ of same value.

Sa, witt give Lewis C. Born, 91 Yonge street, Atlanta,
f $4, or 85 a mixed foreign stamps for every $1,
80 stamips elumbian stamn sent him ; 500 mixed
bian’ 400 mixeg Or every 50c. Columbian stamp sent
N stamp gene reign stamps for every 30c, Colum-
Sty Columbian; 200 mixed foreign stamps for every
Stay PS Bets 9 Stamp sent. Every fifth one sending
PSJana eXtra packet of forty (all different)
Pan, ete.—free,

A
sat street ETC.—Rodney A. Taylor, 202 E. Ban-
Oxentets cost €do, Ohio, has a very fine red woollen
Dropae™8e for ‘nj and pair of extension roller skates to
erred, or : \ckel-plated ice skates, No. 11 B. & B.
nettsery L OX of tricks, or other magical work.
of Dri ting PNEOUS.—Ww, O. Brown, Dover, N. J.,
In, €8s, twenty dramas, twenty-five sheets
exch ick Carters, twenty 5-cent
: ange for best offer; reading matter
etters and postals answered.

ertown, Wrouis Hagemann, 802 Cady street,

82 aa give 450 varieties of stamps, and
2 $10, $20, $50, and $100 Confederate

Oiwie Self-inking printing press; twenty

DS (a, Sn stamps for every fifty United

on = ny kind) sent him.

m ‘

Sta, Pago, ne, hac Wm. T. Sievers, 4 Henry street,

8, and'5 7,000 foreign stamps, 300 Columbian

T begt Offer ute cards to exchange for sporting

S, ETC, .¢
; Migs Gey M. Thompson, Drawer B,
_ 2 has 330 different foreign stamps
EWs; One woeaage for any two volumes of
e Gunt 50-cent novel, ‘*The King’s Stock-
ae by Ustaye. j and twenty-four paper-bound
e BE - e W} Aimard, such as “The Missouri
Ante Order Rig, uite Sealper,” “The Indian Chief,”
Wo ali ’ ete. (ont ‘The Freebooters,” “The Trail
News ke, to ‘san d for list); ten foreign stamps, no
yi . 1@ person for every copy of Goop

‘

Sp
Cig, AMPs ”
e ao 5
by exgnts ae 5 Ross, Jr., Lincoln, Tll., has 500 all
Werag “he for Hose uated in Standard stamp album,
: St offer, All letters and postals an-
LANROUS,—
» Lowa,
volum
10Vels,
PDair of bo
end Lis

8.\ §
“LAN EOS,

Robert Ives, 903 N. 6th
has Goon News from No.
es of other papers, and thirty
almost new, to exchange for
xing-gloves, punching-bag, or

» Mo, Be, “G, Turner, 1020 E. 9th street,
every Ij twenty-five foreign stamps to
Uriog, c ion head cut from Lion Coffee
etc Mains matter, United States and
» for above or offers.

 

T MUSIC.—John H. Hull, Box 244, Brandon,

|

 

| Stamps to exchange

STAMPS.—E. Snowden, 6 E. 97th street, New York
city. has stamps to exchange for stamps; will send
200 well mixed foreign stamps to any one sending him
a 3-cent piece dated before 1872, or will send 100
United States stamps for a 3-cent piece. He has
about 2,000 foreign and 2,000 United States stamps.
Send as many coins as you please ; good references.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Edward Stern, 320 E, 124th
street, New York city, has 350 brand new picture
cards and some coupons to exchange for fossils,
stones, relics, curiosities, etc., also a fine six-piece
compass set, German silver, in plush box for same.

BOYS' PAPERS.—Ear] Freeman, Box 795, Marion,
Iowa, has four volumes of boys’ papers, containing
stories by Oliver Optic, Horatio Alger, William Mur-
ray Graydon, Edgar R. Hoadley, Bert Foster, William
Moffat, Matthew White, and Arthur Lee Putnam to |
exchange for volumes of Goop News before Vol. 7.
Answer immediately.

MISCELLANEOUS,.—Ernest Breneman, Marion,
Iowa, has 100 boys’ books, such as ‘‘Tom, the Boot-
black ;” ‘Tony, the Hero; ‘The Runaway Brig,”
“Tom Tracey,” and the ‘Erie Trainboy;’’ a fishing out-
fit, a magic lantern outfit, a bicycle lamp, a printing
press, and 8 billiard balls to exchange for a pair of
opera-glasses, a punching-bag, or Goop News before
No. 63.

READING MATTER.—James Porter, 2d avenue,
Homestead, Pa., has a large number of boys’ papers,
twenty-six novels, ten 5-cent novels, three 25-cent
novels, and eight bound books to exchange for steam
engine or electric motor. All letters answered.

MISCELLANEOUS,—Frank H, Lewis, Box 186,
Glen Cove, N. Y., has a magic lantern, with one dozen
slides; a self-inking printing press, 2 1-2x3 1-2, with |
outfit; and two books by Alger to exchange for a
larger press, or anything in the printing line. Will
exchange all or separately.

STAMPS, ETC.—C. W. MeMillon, Marlin, Texas,
has 5,000 finely assorted foreign stamps, and 560
Columbian, and ten rare Mexican Revenue stamps,
and two fonts of commercial rubber type, to exchange
for a printing press, size about 10x12. All letters an-
swered from persons haying a press to exchange.

CAMERA, ETC.—Robt. D. Landrum, 514 N. Center |
street, Terre Haute, Ind., has a Kombi camera, Goop
Nrws from 279 to 293, to exchange for Goop NEws
volumes other than No, 4; also Vol. 4 to exchange.
Would like to exchange for a telegraph key,

MISCELLANEOUS.—Robert S. Shelley, care of

 

| have the names of the president aud secretary of

| Welcome.

Telephone office, Austin, Texas, has good foot-ball suit |

and good sweater, 300 picture cards, stamp album, and

1,800 Columbian and United States stamps to exchange |

for best offers,

READING MATTER.—Rennie B. Ingram, 465
Ss.
numbers of 10-cent papers to exchange for best offer,
Vol. 1, 2, 3,4, or 56 of Goon News preferred, or an
electric battery, or a steam engine of small power.

READING MATTER.—E. E. Baxter, Murray,
Cass County, Neb., has nine volumes of boys’ papers,
ten 5-cent novels, two volumes of a monthly maga-
zine, and three paper-bound books to exchange for
best offer in reading matter, volumes of Goop News
preferred, Write, with list,

STAMPS.—James Skeehan, 5126 Carnegie avenue,
Pittsburgh, Pa., has 2,300 United States and foreign
for 2c. red, 2c. green, and Ic,
Pittsburgh and vicinity offers preferred.

MISCELLANEOUS.—John W. Hall, 1117 Race

| tion of branch ofticers—which, by the way, all officers

Grand street, Springfield, Mo., has seventy-five |

|

}

 

|
1

street, Cincinnati, Ohio, has a nickel watch, 105 Goop

News, thirty other boys’ papers, and fifty stamps to
exchange for GoopD News before 188, or best offer
in reading matter. New York Weekly preferred.

‘ Printing press, size 5x8, or larger. Good | letters answered.

CAMERA.—L. Enxnest, -Mooresfield, Ark,, has a
$50 photograph camera and outfit to exchange for a
safety bicycle of same value.

GOOD NEWS.—Ferdinand Puy, Room 88, Cotton
Exchange, New York city, has Vol. 2 of Goop News
(bound) to exchange for best offer. Honesty guaran-
teed. All letters answered.

GOOD NEWS.—W. E, Baltz, 1928 N. Benton ave-

nue, Springfield, Mo., has Goop Nrws from 272 to 293,
inclusive, to exchange for other boys’ papers.
. STAMPS.—Lincoln Rappelye, Trumansburg, N. Y.,
to’any one sending him 600 well-mixed United States
stamps will send in return 100 well-assorted foreign
stamps, containing many varieties. He particularly
desires revenue, postage due, special delivery, 3c., 6c.,
ane 8c. stamps, but will accept others if in good con-
dition.

STAMPS.—James Todd, 69 2d avenue, Cleveland,
Ohio, has 150 foreign stamps, catalogued at $5, to ex-
change for best offer in volumes of boys’ papers in
good condition. All letters and postals answered.

GOOD NEWS.—Paul eo Silver street,
Haverhill, Mass., has 250 numbers of Goop NEws to
exchange for best offer of musical instrument,

INVISIBLE INK.—B. A. Stickles, 382 Walnut
street, Springfield, Mass., will give recipe for making
invisible and luminous inks for three covered phila-
telic papers, or two 5-cent novels in fine condition,

READING MATTER.—George C. Crowley, 1358
Lexington avenue, New York city, wants books on
magic and stamps in exchange for volumes of papers
and libraries. List cheerfully furnished on receipt of
stamp.

GOOD NEWS,.—Lon Cochran, Seymour, Ind., has
one year’s subscription of Goop NrEws from No. 231 to
287, bound in Goop News binder, in good condition,
to exchange for a Kombi camera or an Eastman
Kodak. All letters answered,

HISTORIES.—Joseph Jacquett, 1618 Cadwalader
street, Philadelphia, Pa., would like to hear from per-
sons having the lives of Gens, Sheridan, Kilpatrick,
Forrest, Stuart, Gregg, and other cavalry commanders
of the Civil War to exchange.

SPECIMENS.—Arthur F. Howard, Red Lodge:
Carbon County, Mont., has some specimens of ore,
such as gold, silver, copper, iron, and other metals,
and also petrified wood, different colors of flint, and
other specimens of rocks to exchange for the best offer
of reading matter, such as books or weekly story
papers of the Goop NEws; any numbers below No.
283.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Fred. Freese, care of Mrs-
Hart, 401 E, 47th street, N. Y., has a mandolin and in-
struction book, $16.25; accordion, $3.50; set of boxing-
gloves (4), $4; 2,500 Costa Rica Ic,, 2c., 3c., and 10c.
stamps, catalogued at about $100, to exchange sep-
arately for pneumatic-tired safety bicycle, old United
States and Columbian stamps, snap-shot camera, and
Remington typewriter. All letters answered.

STAMPS.—J. L, Naret, 514 Virginia street, Charles-
ton, W. Va., has fine stamps to exchange for best
offer in American and foreign cycling papers after
1893, or best offer, e

COINS.—E. E. Elster, 5 Oak street, Buffalo, N. Y.,
has three United States half-cents, 1809, 1828, 1856 ; also
United States cents of 1795, 1801, 1802, 1803, 1807, 1812,
1816, 1818, 1819, 1826, 1827, and twenty-one of other
dates, and a few war tokens to exchange for best offer
in rare United States stamps. All letters answered.

STAMPS, ETC.—Wm, J. Battin, 805 23d street, West
Troy, N. Y., has 500 picture cards and 600 rare foreign
stamps to exchange for 10c. brown and 50c, Columbian
(unused) stamps, or good old United States stamps.

MISCELLANEOUS.—J. H. Burns, 384 Prospect

 

motor castings complete, one set 1-16. horse-power

    

}
;

All | customary fee.

|

 

|
’

motor castings complete, six carbon batteries, one 3
Cc.
one battery suitable for scarf-pin outfit, eight dry bat-
teries, two 24-inch iron box bells, one 3-inch iron box
bell, one small nickel-plated bell, two bronze push-
buttons, two desk push-buttons, six Leclanche zincs,
200 feet bell wire, one brass band mouth-organ, one
medical battery and handles, one pound of bell-wire
staples, three pounds of sal ammoniac, fifteen feet of
silk cord’to exchange for 4% or 1 horse-power engine
and boiler, or anything useful.

typewriter, shipped direct from the factory, for a fine
gold watch and chain, strictly high-grade bicycle, or
| best offer.

ville, Tenn., will give 5,000 2c. United States stamps
for every 500 well-mixed foreign stamps, for every 200
good foreign stamps, and forevery 150 different foreign
stamps.

4733

 

 

p. miniature lamp, one hard rubber battery cell,

TYPEWRITER.—Wm. L. Packard; Wilmington,
Vt., will exchange brand new Franklin or Crandall

Inclose stamp to insure reply.
STAMPS.—Philip Vogel, 1206 Grundy street, Nash-

 

(GLUBS.

{SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column is for GOOD
NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted
excepting such as are genuine GOOD NEWs Club
notices, and nothing in the shape of an advertise-
ment will be allowed. Every club notice should

EWS

-*

the club attached. For information concerning
GOOD NEWS Clnb Badge aud Electrotypes see ad-
vertisement on last page. |
ae a
CLUB CHAT.

Wake up Goop NEws clubs! R. VY. Perine, P, O-
Box 351, Westfield, N. J., has asked for circulars of
Goop NEws clubs, and received notice from only one
Goop NrEws club. He wishes to join a good one.

George C. Crowley, 1358 Lexington avenue, New
York city, would like to hear from young gentlemen
residing in the city and vicinity, in order to organize
a Goop News skating club. Personal calls especially
, At leisure from 7 to9 on Wednesday and
Friday evenings.

No doubt many of our readers have wondered why
Mr. Knoelk, remained with the National Associa-

should join—after withdrawing from club affairs?
The explanation has it, that he agreed to officiate un-
til permanent officers had been secured, and as these
are not to be elected until 20 members have been
signed, be therefore remains.
°
CLUB NOTICES.

Join Goop News Musical Club if you wish to be
among the up-to-date newsites. AsGoop News leads
all young people’s papers, so do Goop NEws clubs
lead all young people’s clubs. Oursis not the oldest
nor the biggest, but it is one of the best and most
popular. We have a nice list of yoring lady members
from all over the United States. We wanta few
more members, and as an inducement will admit a
few free upon the following offer: We wanta repre-
sentative member in each State, but there are a few
States yet in which we have none. We will admit the
first member from each of these States free of the
Write about your State, inclosing a
stamp, or, better still, sendin your fee direct and it
will be returned if we have no member in your State,
Initiation fee, 10 cents, CC. J. McKinley, secretary,
Anita, lowa.

Hello, there! Are you a reader of the “ King of
Boys’ Weeklies?’ If not, you had better be one, and
also be a member of the Flour City Goop NEws Club
of Rochester, N. Y. Weare new, but we will soon be
among the leaders, and you can help us out by join-
ing. The first person joining will be appointed to the
office of president, the second to vice-president, the
third to recording secretary. Our official organ will
be the Club Reporter. The fee for boys is only 5
cents (silver), ladies admitted fora stamp, No dues.
Remember that you can join for 5 cents for two weeks
only. We will raise the price after. So join while
the fee islow. Address the secretary and treasurer,
Harry Tibbits, 24 Avril place, Rochester, N. Y.

The Goop Nrws Corresponding Club of Allegheny,
Pa., wishes to get representatives from every State in
the United States, also one or more in Canada. To
every representative in each State will give the Little
Jewel, an 8-page monthly, 25 envelopes, with name
and address, cards, note heads, etc. To wll joining
the Little Jewel, and case of 50 cards with name
and address. Officers: Rollen Trazine, president;
R. M. Gilson, secretary, 93 Hopkins street. Initia-
tion fee, 10 cents; dues, 6 one cent stamps per
month.

Hallo, boys and girls! Are you looking for a good
club tojoin? If you are, the Goop NrEws Liberty
Corresponding and Exchange Club of Wilton, Conn.,
is theclub for you. It is a strictly up-to-date club,
having an official organ (The Bulletin), prize contests,
ete. The initiation fee is only 10 cents; dues, 12 cents
aquarter in adyance. Ladies are absolutely free.
All joining receives 8-page list of members, fine new
membership card, amateur papers, etc. Address E.
8S. Benedict, Wilton, Conn.

Do you want to enjoy yourself these long winter
evenings? If so, join the American Goop NEws
Corresponding Club of Newport, Vt. The first person
joining after the appearance of this notice, will be
presented with a 25-cent novel. Officers: President,
N. A. Cattanach ; vice-president, Will Gillilan ; secre-
tary and treasurer, C. H. Noyes. Initiation—Gentle-
men, 10 cents; ladies and foreigners, free; no dues.
Address all communications to the secretary, box 20,
Newport, Vt.

Do you want to join a good club, if'so, read on. The
Goop News Young People’s Union, the club of clubs,
is offering a camera free to those joining, When you
join we send you a large package of reading matter,
and a package every month. A 4-page list of mem-
bers and a list every month. Our club paper, one
year free, and many other things. Admission fee,
10 cents; dues, 3 cents per month. Particulars for
stamp. Address W. E. Taliaferro, secretary, South
Atlanta, Ga.

If you have not joined the Goop News World Cor-
responding Club you should not fail todo so. This is
one of the best in the organization. Every one join-
ing receives our club paper, Club Howrs, one year free
of charge. To the first one joining, after this notice
appears, we will give twenty-five envelopes with their
name and address printed on them. Initiation fee, 10
cents; no dues, Address the secretary, Arthur H.
Wild, 167 Lewis street, Chicago, Il.

Decatur’s Goop News Corresponding Club is still
on deck, and is still taking in new members from all
parts of the earth. Initiation fee, 10 cents; ladies, 2c.
stamp; no dues. Our new list is now out. We don’t
promise you a whole toy shop if i join, but we do
promise card of membership, list of members, and
club badge by return mail. Address Percy Ewing,

 

avenue, Buffalo, N. Y.,has ten sets 1-20 horse-power | ¢

secretary. 40 Pine street, Decatur, Ill.

The Goop News Reading Club of Rankin, Pa.,
wants more members, A handsome membership

   

5 cents a quarter; ladies free. All questions cheer-
fully answered by the secretary, J. M. Crom, Rankin,
Allegheny County, Pa.

The Goop NrEws Universal Stamp Club of Chicago,
Tll,, will admit you for 5 cents. No dues, A card of
membership and a neatly-printed list of members to
all joining. Young ladies and readers of Goop NEws
in foreign countries admitted free. All letters
answered by retum mail. B. A. Wilson, secretary, 24
Sinnott place.

Everybody interested in corresponding should join
the Bean City Corresponding Club of South Boston,
Mass., and receive card. Name in mail list and Jick-
Nacks*six months free, Aditiress all communications
to William G. Gorman, 60 Gates street.

  

 

   

uR MAIL Bac.

ines pach
{Questions on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the ‘‘Mail Bag.’’ Medical or legal ques-
tions not answered. Goop NEWS goes to press two
weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers Cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed Goop NEws ‘Mail
Bag,’’ P. O. Box 2734, New York City.

se
Don Kirk, Denver, Col.—1. The Monitor foundered
off Cape Hatteras, December 30, 1863. 2. Yes, the
United States has several boats built on the model of
the Monitor, prominent among them the Mianto-
nomoh. 3. We have recently made a contract with
William Murray Graydon, by which he is to write ex-
clusively for Goop Nrws. 4. Possibly we may have
stories by the authors mentioned, 5. No. The club
column is only for Goop Nerws clubs. 6. Lieut,
Lounsberry has, among other stories, written:
“Cadet Carey,’ ‘Midshipman Merrill,” ‘Lieut.
Carey’s Luck,” “Capt, Carey ofthe Gallant 7th,” ‘‘Kit
Carey’s Protege,’ “The Treasure of the Golden
Crater,” ““‘Won at West Point,” ‘Friends or Foes,’
and “Center-board Jim.” Some of Willlam Murray
Graydon’s stories are: ‘Exiled to Siberia,” “‘From
Fort to Prison,’’ ‘The Camp in the Woods,” ‘‘Commo-
dore Frank,” ‘‘The White King of Africa,’ ‘“Jungles
and Traitors,” and “In Barracks and Wigwam,” W.
B. Lawson has written “The Young Duck Hunters.”
The stories by Oliver Optic, which have appeared in
Goop NrEws, are: ‘‘Where He Got His Money,”
“The Cave on the Island,” and “Nothing But a Boy,”
7. We shall have, a little later, the story you desire,
and it will be written by Lieut. Lounsberry. 8. Yes,
when you send stamps for examination, inclose a 2c,
stamp for their return. 9, Your other questions will
be answered next week,
R. J. C., Nashua, N, H.—To make a looking-glass,
take ten grains of pure nitrate of silver to one
ounce of distilled water; add carefully, drop by
drop, strong ammonia, until the brown precipitate
is redissolved, When adding the ammonia, keep
stirring with a glass rod. In another bottle make
a solution of ten grains of pure crystalized Ro-
Chelle salt to one ounce of distilled water; then,
when you have all ready, pour on sufficient to cover
all the glass, using two-thirds of the silver solution,
and one-third of the Rochelle salt. The mirror can be
prepared well by cleaning it with a little wet rouge,
and polished dry with wasb-leather; then warm the
glass before the fire, or by letting it lie in the sun, to
about 70 or 80 degrees. Pour on the solution as de-
scribed above, and let it standin the warm sunshine
halfan hour or an hour. When silvered, pour on it
some clean, soft, or distilled water, and while still wot
wipe it very gently all over with a little soft wadding,
wet; this will take off all the roughness, so that it will
take but little rubbing with the rouge-leather to pol-
ish it. When perfectly dry, it is easily rubbed up to
an exquisite polish.

Regular Reader, Fort Worth, Texas.—Your puzzle
is interesting, but itis not difficult. You say from a
basket of eggs, take out two ata time and leave one;
three and leave one; four and leave one; five and
leave one; six and leave one; seven and leave none.
How many eggs are there in the basket? The
answer is 721.

J. W. B., Winsted, Conn.—l. We will consider your
suggestion. 2. Yes, any reader of Good Nrws cap
form a club, and we will print the notices, if the con-
ditions are fulfilled. 3. No. 4. Certainly not. How
could any one shape hisown head? 5, We do not
know, nor, do we think, does any one else.

B. H. 8., Galveston, Texas,—The only way is to mix
as much as possible in society. Think as litle of your-
self as youcan. Remember others are thinking more
of themselves than of you. Do this, and, as you grow
older, your bashfulness will vanish.

M.. Nashville, Tenn.—1. The color of Harvard
University is crimson; that of Yale is dark blue. 2.
We shall have a story of winter sports shortly. 3,
William Murray Graydon hereafter will write ex-
clusively for Goop NEws.

Billy the Boxer, New York city.—1. We cannot tell
you the name ofan instructor. You should have no
difficulty in finding one for yourself. 2, Yes, itis an
excellent idea for boys to know how to box, and so be
able to defend themselves.

M. H. R., Franklin, Mass.—The nickel parts of your
bicycle can be kept bright by using ammonia and
whiting. Mix together in a bottle, and apply with a
cloth. A very little polishing gives a fine lustre.

¥. R., New York city.—All the information we had
in regard to the matter in question was printed. We
have written for more, and, as soon as we receive an
answer, you will see itin our columns.

Yankee Boy, Keene, N. H.—Those who desire to pay
their respects to the President are received by him at
the White House at 1 o’clock P. M., on Mondays,
Wednesdays, and Saturdays.

Mrs. L. C., Camden, Me,—If you immerse the arti-
cles in kerosene oil and let them remain for some
time, the rust will become so much loosened as to
come off very easily.

E. B. H., Fitzwillian Depot, N. H.—1, Not at pres-
ent. 2. Harvey Hicks lives in Newark, N. J. 3. Yes,
he is alive. Address him care of this office,

J. H., Lowell, Mass,—1. The average height of a boy
of 16 is 5 feet 1 inch, and his weight 90 pounds. 2. No
premium on any of the coins mentioned.

C. F, Cleveland, Ohio.—You can get a dry plate at
any dealer in photographic supplies much cheaper
than you can make it.

Don Kirk, Raleigh, N. C.—The total number of In-
dians in the United States at the present time is about
250,000,

Robin Hood, Muncie, Ind.—We know nothing of
the mixture you speak of, It is probably a trade
secret.

J. W. H., Cincinnati, Ohio.—Your suggestion is a
goodone,. Tell your friends we shall probably follow

L. C. D., Guthrie, Oklahoma.—The only nickel cent
on which there is a premium is that of 1856.

Engineer, Toronto, Canada.—Write to Spalding &
Co., Nassau street, New York city.

B. lL. A., East Orange, N. J.—We cannot answer
medical questions in this column.

 

 

“ard, No, 2 list, two novels; five mixed stamps, given
to all joining this week, Initiation fee, 10 cents; dues,

{Several communications left over to be answered next
week.}

 
 

 

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Ee Noe

oR ade ee ig

CHAPTER XI.

HANS TRIES A NUMBER OF THINGS.

o- ANS was again out of work.

afte} As he stood on the corner wonder-
¢ ing what to do next, a tall, well-
2’> dressed stranger slid up to him.

The man had a_ pocket-book in his hand
and seemed to be in a tremendous hurry.

He was a snide and thought he could play
a little game on Hans.

Hans looked so green, you know.

But he didn’t know that Hans was cut-
ting his eye-teeth fast.

‘Say, my friend,’’ he panted. ‘‘Here is
a pocket-book full of money I just picked
up. Ihaven’t time to find the owner. I
must catch the first train for Boston. See
the thing is full of bills.’’? He opened it and
showed what looked like a roll of bills, of
which, as we all know, only the top one
was any good. ‘‘Take the book and give me
ten dollars. Of course the owner will come
down handsomely; that is, if you find out
who it belongs to,’’

For the moment Hans was taken back.

‘*Dot pocket-book is full of money?’’ he
asked, cautiously.

‘*Yes, chuck-full.”’

‘*And you don’t got dime to find der
owner?’?

‘*That’s it exactly. I must catch the train
in a quarter of an hour.’’

‘*And you vonts me ter dake dot pocket-
book and gif you den dollars for it???

‘*Yes. The owner may give you twenty
or thirty for returning it. See the bills in
i+ 2?

‘*T vill do it,’’ said Hans.

‘fAll right. Be quick, | must get that
train.’’

He thought he had caught his fish sure.

Hans put his hand in his pocket, and put
out his other hand for the wallet.

The sharp handed it over.

Instantly Hans withdrew his hand from
his pocket.

‘*f dinks I look me dot pocket-book ofer,”’
he said, and proceeded to do so.

‘Oh, come, I haven’t got time to let you
do that,’’ said Mr. Sharp.

Hans paid no attention to him.

Then Mr. Sharp began to get worried.

Hans wasn’t so green after all.

So he tried to get that pocket-book back.

Tn an instant they were in a tussle.

But the first thing Mr. Sharp knew,’he
got one in the chin that nearly took his
head off,

‘*You vos a schnide,’’ cried Hans. ‘‘Dere
don’t have been no money by der pocket-
book, by jiminy!’’

And the way he went for the sharper was
a caution.

In five minutes Mr. Sharp lay in the
gutter, his coat torn, and his nose bleeding.

Then a policeman slid up and wanted to
know what was on the boards.

Hans told him.

‘*He dought I vos green. But I don’t vos
been so green as all dot,’? he remarked.

Before the swindler could get away the
copper had him fast.

‘*Good for you, Dutchy,’’ he said. ‘‘We
have been looking for this very fellow.
Come ‘along with me, an’ no more of yer
funny games.”’

Mr. Sharp was mad enough to chew Hans
up.

But he had to go along, and was event-
ually sent up for a couple of years.

‘‘Maybe he dought I vos so green der
goats vould chew me up for grass already,’’
muttered Hans. ‘‘But chust let dem dry me
vonce, dot’s all,”’

Late that evening Hans struck a job tend-
ing a vegetable stand. Here he thought he
would feel right at home, and so did Mr,
Turnip, the owner of the stand.

Hans’ first job was to pick the sprouts off
of several barrels of potatoes that stood in
the back yard.

It was easy enough work, and he would
have gotten along first-rate if he had tended
strictly to business. f

But pretty soon a sound from the back
fence attracted his attention.

‘*Me-ow! me-ow! me-ow!”’

He looked up.

There was a big Thomas cat, just tuning
up.
‘*Git owit of dare!’’? shouted Hans.

| But the feline never budged.

Pretty soon another feline came prowling
around, and then there was a full-fledged
concert.

Hans stood it as long as he. could, and
then taking up the largest potato he could
find, he shied it at one of the cats,

It missed its mark, and flew over the
fence,

Crash!

There was the sound of smashed glass.

The potato had found its way through one
of Mary Ann Dodger’s windows.

Mary Ann Dodger was a tart old maid
who kept a millinery store on the next
street.

When the crash came she was busy with a
customer, and could not attend to the noise
at once. ;

But she came as soon as she could.

Meanwhile Hans went on with his work,
but as the cats raised a worse row than
ever, he got ready to let drive another
potato.

He took careful aim, and away went the
potato.

As it flew along Mary Ann Dodger’s. head
appeared over the fence.

She was a good Dodger by name, but not
by nature.

That potato caught her full in the mouth.

Away went her false teeth.

Hans was so astonished he couldn’t say a
word.

‘*You wretch, you!’’ shrieked Miss Dodg-
er. ‘*What do you mean by hitting me?’?’

‘*] vos aimed at der cats,’’ explained
Hans.

‘‘What! throwing at my dear Tommy?
Oh, you bold, bad man, I'll have you ar-
rested on the spot. Police! police! police!’’

In the meantime those two cats got into a
fight all by themselves.

Now Miss Dodger thought the world and
all of her pet Tommy.

So she forgot all about her own misfor-
tune, and tried to separate the two felines.

It was hard work.

The tramp cat from
wouldn’t give in.

And when Mary Ann Dodger got her own
pet safe in her arms, that other cat sprang
up on her shoulder and clawed down all her
back hair, and made off with her false
frizzes.

This made the old maid madder than ever.

She cried police at the top of her lungs.

The noise reached Mr. Turnip’s ears, and
he came running from the front of the stand
to see what was the matter, He had been
counting out a dozen eggs at the’ time, and
he still carried the bag in his hands.

‘‘Oh, save me, save me, Mr. Turnip,’’
howled the old maid. ‘‘That bad man is
throwing potatoes at me, and has set a
horrid cat to chewing up my dear Tommy !”’

Now, Turnip was rather sweet on the old
maid.

In fact, it was a settled thing that some
day they were going to be hooked,

So, of course, he took her part.

‘*You rascal, you!’’. he cried to Hans.
‘*Get out of here, and don’t ever let me see
you again.’’

He made a dive for Hans over the sprouts
that lay in the yard.

The sprouts were green and slippery.

Down went Turnip, and down went the
dozen of eggs.

Crash!

Turnip had landed right on top of those

 

the next block

BES.

And when he arose the whole front of his
vest was covered with hen-fruit.

Phew! but wasn’t he mad!

Hans burst out laughing.

Even Mary Ann Dodger had to smile.

‘*Well, if that’s the way you’re going to
help me, you had better stay in the shop,’’
she said, tartly.

‘“Thank you, madame, I shall know better
than to try to help an idiot next time,’’ he
replied.

‘*Idiot! How dare you? James Henry
Turnip, I will never speak to you again !’’

‘*T hope you don’t.”’

‘Oh, oh, you, you——”’

Mary Ann couldn’t say any more, so’she
ended by shaking her fist at Turnip.

Meanwhile Hans sneaked for the shop.

Turnip saw him, and made after him.

In the centre of the shop stood a barrel of

 

‘over-ripe tomatoes.

NEWS.

 

Hans saw it, and cleared it at a bound.

Not so Turnip.

Hans had kicked the barrel and sent it
spinning toward him.

Turnip tried to get out of the way, but
slipped, and went head first into the barrel.

Sloush !

Turnip’s head didn’t stop until it had
gone about half way down into those rotten
tomatoes.

He wasn’t long in getting his head out,
either.

What a sight he was!

His eyes, nose, mouth, and ears were full
of the stinking fruit, and this added to the
eggs on his vest, made his appearance one
never to be forgotten.

Hans laughed so he nearly burst his sides.

Turnip was so mad he almost felt like
crying.

 

Scooping the tomatoes from his eyes and
mouth, he made for our German friend. |

But Hans was as nimble as ever.

Skipping out of the shop, he ran up the
street as fast as his legs could carry him.

But Turnip’s blood was up.

 

| der vinder,’’ said the man with a pitchfork.

 

He swore to have that Dutchman’s life if
he had to follow him for a week.

By and by Hans began to get winded.

‘«T ngust find me von blace ter hide,’’ he
said to himself.

Close at hand was a little house that set
back quite some distance from the street.

Beside it was an alley-way leading to a
stable.

Hans ran into the alley-way, and then
into the stable.

Here he thought he would be safe, but to
make sure, hid himself in the hay.

A moment later he heard Turnip running
past, crying at the top of his voice for the
police.

‘Dot vos a narrow escape,’’ said Hans to
himself. ‘‘Of I don’t look me owit——”’

He stopped short, for a man with a pitch-
fork had entered the barn.

‘<Dot t’ief runned in here. I see him by
‘*Of he vos in der hay I vos haf him owit
mighty kvick, [ tol you.’’

And he jabbed into the hay with his fork.

Hans felt decidedly uncomfortable.

What if that fellow should stick him with
those sharp points?
‘‘Shtop! shtop!’’ he called out, crawling
from under the hay. ‘‘Don’t you vos shtick

me by der——’’

Then he stopped short with his mouth
wide open.

As for the man with the pitchfork, he
stood fora second gazing at our German
friend, and then dropping his pitchfork, he
rushed forward.

‘¢Hans ??

“Carl!?’

The two brothers had met at last.

‘Vere vos you haf ben all der dimes?’’
asked Carl Liederkranz, when they were
done hugging each other.

‘tT vos looking for you,’’ replied Hans,
‘*Vy didn’t you send to me dot letter vot
you tole me you vould?’’

‘*T did send dot letter.’’

‘*T dan’t vos got him.’’

‘*T wrote dot letter, and put me on der
envelope: ‘To mine bruder Hans, vot has
chust come to New York.’’

‘*And dot mans by der bost-office said dot
dere vos no letter for me. To-morrow I go
me down and bunch his head off already !”’

However, Hans thought better of it in the
morning, and the post-office clerk is still
alive.

And the letter?

Well, I don’t know what has become of
the letter.

Carl Liederkranz was settled down, and
as soon as the two brothers met he made
Hans live with him.

He also procured Hans a situation, and
after many tribulations, all went well.

(THE END.)

 

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