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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1895, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.
Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N.Y., Post-Office.

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Vol. 12. 19 Rose Street, | New York. New York, November 30, 1895. Svguso per Year.” No, 291.

 

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HAND FLASHED OVER DON KIRK’S SHOULDER AND DROVE A LONG-BLADED KNIFE
THROUGH THE CHART TO THE MINE, PINNING IT TO THE TABLE,

DON KIRK'S MINES

TEE FIGHT FOR A LOoOsT FORTUNE,

 

 

 

 

A COMPANION STORY TO ‘‘THE BOY CATTLE KING.”
CERES ead Se PEL

 

 

BY HARRY DANGERFIELD,
Author of ‘The Boy Cattle King,’ “The Boy from the West,” etc.

 

/ CHAPTER I. summer afternoon; but the boy who was the
’ first passenger to spring down from the car
NO LONGER A CATTLE KING. steps to the platform had the impatient air

ye ! of one who had been delayed so many hours,
‘DA HE Pacific express from Chicago, via’ This boy hada frank and honest face, anda
Pu 2 peat 6 ue ete Wg St eee Ry, Sua: the Kansas City, due in Denver at 2,25, business air that made him seem older at first
THE INDIAN BOY 8 FACE REMAINED GRAV H AND STOLID, Bl T THERE Was A JOYOUS 4 {i P. M., pulled into the station exactly , glance than he really was. He was smartly
LIGHT IN HIS EYES AS HE HALF GRUNTED; “HELLO, DON: << twenty-three seconds behind time one | dressed in tailor-made garments of the very

—~

 

 
        
       
      
 
      
     
        
      
   
  
 
   
 
 
  
   
     
 
  
 
  
  
     
   
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
 
    
   
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
    
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
    
  
   
   
 
  
  
  
 
  
   
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
     
   
  
  
 
    
   
 
         
         
       
     

aside!’’

are very much mistaken.
-moned here from Chicago by telegram to

engraved upon it, and this is what he saw:

 

4642

latest style, and everything corresponded,
from the correct derby on his head to the
patent leathers on his feet; but, for all that,
there was nothing flashy or in bad taste
about him any where.

He hurried from the train with a direct-
ness of step that plainly indicated he was no
stranger at that station, and, making his
way through the gathered throng of human-
ity, soon came out
was standing at the heads of two handsome
horses, which were saddled and bridled.

That the boy who was waiting with the

horses had Indian blood in his veins one
could see at a glance, although he was

dressed in plain clothes like a cowboy, with
a wide-brimmed hat on his head, and long-
legged, silver-spurred riding boots on _ his
feet. About his waist was a cartridge belt
thrust full of loaded shells that were large
enough to supply an ordinary Winchester
rifle, and the band of his hat also held
cartridges, which were of a smaller caliber;
but the holsters at his hips were empty, and
there was no weapon visible anywhere about
his person.

The Indian boy’s face remained grave and
stolid as he saw the other lad advancing,
but there was a joyous light in his eyes, as
he half-gruxted:

‘* Hello, Don!”’

‘*Hello, Pete!
living?’?

‘‘Was hour ago. Doctor say ‘Pretty bad,
pretty bad.’ Tell me to hurry you. Darlton
die pretty soon, sure.’’

“Well, I have come in answer to his mes-

sage, although by leaving Chicago I aban-
doned my last hope of’ breaking the beef
trust.”’

‘¢ You.lose some money ?’’

A grim smile fitted across the other boy's
face.

‘‘It is possible I may have five or ten
thousand dollars left after the clean-up,”’
he replied.

‘‘Big lot,’’ said the Indian lad.

He knew very little about numerals, and
so he did not comprehend that ten thousand
dollars would be but a drop in the bucket be-
side the fortune once possessed by the youth
with whom he was speaking.

‘‘Take my grip,’’ directed the white boy,
as he thrust a handsome bag into the In-
dian’s hand. ‘‘I am not dressed for the sad-

‘dle, but that makes no difference, as I am
in a hurry.”’

Up to the horses’
lads with a deftness that told they were ex-
pert riders, and then they went clattering
from the station along the streets of Denver,
the white boy slightly in advance, with the
half-breed riding close at his horse’s quar-
ter, like a guard.

How Darlton—still

is

hey were soon riding along a wide, hand- |

some avenue, and finally drew rein before
the Hotel Metropole, where the white boy
dismounted and paused to speak a few hasty
words to his dusky companion, after which
he walked swiftly into the magnificent
hotel, while the Indian rode away with the
horses.

Proceeding directly to the office, the boy
took his turn to examine the register, look-
ing back over its pages through the records
of more than a week, while the supercilious
clerk regarded him with an air of lofty
disdain and impatience that would have
been quite crushing—perhaps—if it had been
‘noticed at all.

At length the lad found what he sought,
and he quietly said:

‘*Will you please have my card taken up
to No. 43?”’

_ He took a card-case from his pocket, but
before he could remove a card from the
receptacle, the haughty clerk coldly re-
plied:

‘Quite impossible, young man; the gen-
tleman in No. 48 is very ill, and he is al-
lowed to see no one. Stand aside.’’

_ *Tamaware that the gentleman in No.
43 is ill, but he will see me. Here is my
card; send it up.’’

The clerk caught his breath, and then, in
the same icy manner, he returned:

‘‘It is possible that 1 know my business.
The gentleman in No. 48 will see no one,
and your card will not be sentup. Stand

Still the boy did not offer to move; in-
‘stead of that, he spoke again, and his voice
was calm and even as he said:

‘*You may think it possible that you know
your business, sir, but it is evident that you
I have been sum-
see the gentleman in forty-three, and you
will send up my card without delay.’

‘‘T have a mind to have you ejected!’’
muttered the man behind the desk, a bit of
angry color coming to his face.

**And l have a mind to have you repri-
manded or discharged for discourtesy to
guests. If you do not send my card up im;

‘mediately, [ shall enter complaint to the
proprietor, which I fancy you will. find an
oe thing for you.’’
- As the cool lad placed the card on the desk,
the clerk chanced to glance at the name

‘‘Mr. DoNBRY KIRK.”’

A gasp of surprise came from the super-
cilious young man, the color left his face,

to where another boy |

backs swung the two|

GooDpD

steady, he rang the call-bell and picked up
the card.

ek your pardon, Mr. Kirk!’’ he
hastened to say, most humbly. ‘‘I did not
know you. I assure you I was acting under
the physician’s orders, and I trust you will
take no offense. Mr. Darlton is very ill, but
if, as you say, he has summoned you from
| Chicago, he must wish to see you very
much, no matter what his condition may
|}be. Here, front, No. 48. Hurry now!’?

Then, as the black boy hastened away
with the card, the high-and-mighty clerk,
with an air of the utmost servility, asked if
Mr. Kirk would be pleased to wait in the
parlor, and in other ways showed his con-
sternation and concern over the ‘‘bad
break’? he had made.
| As Don turned away, to walk impatiently
|up and down the tiled floor till the boy re-
turned. a man who had been waiting at the
desk asked the flustered clerk :

‘*Who is that boy?’’

‘‘That,’? replied the man behind the desk
—‘‘why, that is Don Kirk, the Boy Cattle

beg

King. Never heard of him? You must be
from the East. Everybody out this way has
heard of him. He is the fellow who broke

up the great Cattlemen’s Combine, and he
is said to be the richest bby in the United
| States. Up toa short time ago he owned
two big cattle ranches; but he sold them
both, and the report’ has been that he has
used his money like water in bucking against
the Great Western Cattle and Beef Company.
It was his idea to break the beef trust as he
broke the combine.’’

‘¢‘Hum! hum!’? coughed the listening man,
his red mustache bristling and his eyes fixed
on the boy. ‘‘I have heard of him—yes, I
have heard of the young man. Very re-
markable youngster—very remarkable. I
may see more of him.”’

Then he registered, and the name he wrote
in a large sprawling hand was ‘‘Colonel
Moyen Cawthorne, Kansas City.’’ He was
assigned a room, and it so happened that he
went up in the same elevator with Don, who
had received word that the guest in No. 48
was waiting for him. This gave Colonel
Cawthorne a fine opportunity to survey the
boy, and, when Don left the car, the man
muttered:

‘*T will know you anywhere now, and I
really expect to see a great deal more of
you.’’

Don was conducted to No. 43, and found
the door standing wide open to admit him.
When he walked in the door was closed by
a man who had the air of a physician,

‘*You are Mr. Kirk?’’ questioned this
man.

AS GS NGkirac”

‘‘T am Doctor Wingate. I have attended

Mr. Darlton since his arrival in Denver. He
is very low.’’

‘*Ts there great danger?’’

‘¢He cannot recover.’’

‘*What is the nature of his disease?’’

‘*A combination of disorders, aggravated
by exposure and privation. Mr. Darlton has
been a heavy drinker, and his system was
in no condition to endure what he passed
through. It is a wonder that he held out to
reach Denver, and I do not think he would
have done that but that he was very anxious
to see you., It was a great disappointment
to him when he found you were in Chicago,
but he has held fast to the ragged edge of
life with a tenacious clutch till you could
come to him. I shall not be surprised if he
gives out quickly after he has seen you and
talked with you.’’

‘*Ts that you, Don?’’

from an adjoining room.
boy.’
Don obeyed, and he was soon at the bed-
side of a man who lay haggard and emaci-
ated amid the snowy pillows, two burning
eyes looking up from a face that was fright-
fully scarred. A thin hand that had once
been pudgy almost to fatness reached out
and grasped the boy’s fingers, while a faint
but familiar voice said:

‘‘T am glad to see you, lad—mighty glad!
I was afraid you wouldn*t come, for they
told me you couldn’t leave your business in
Chicago. 1 didn’t want to pass in my chips
without seeing you, and so I sent you that
telegram entreating you to come before I
went over the range.’’

Don was shocked and horrified by the ap-
yearance of ‘the man before him. Could it
9 possible this was Miles Darlton, whom he
had last seen in what appeared to be the
perfect flush of health and physical vigor?
‘‘Don't look very well, do I, Don?’’ said
the sick man, as if he heard the lad’s
thoughts. ‘‘Well, I am not. [It was powerful
good of you to leave your business and come
all this distance to see me; but you sha’n’t
lose anything by it, boy.’’

‘‘Don’t worry about my business, Mr,
Darlton,’’ said Don, as he sat down beside
the bed. ‘*My business in Chicago is com-
-pleted, and I could not lose very much more
if I tried.”’

‘‘What do you mean by that?’’ hastily
asked the invalid, giving a convulsive clutch
at the hand _ he still held, and staring hard
at the boy with those burning eyes. ‘‘You
don’t mean to say you have given up the
fight against the Great Western Cattle and
Beef Company—that you have been de-
feated?”’

voice
in, my

‘alled a weak
**Come

NEWS.

 

‘Oh, I have five thousand or so left,’’
carelessly smiled the boy. ‘‘That is enough
to give me a fresh start.’’

‘*Then you are poor? You are no longer
the Boy Cattle King?”’

‘You have hit it.’’

Miles Darlton lay panting amid the pil-
lows.

‘*You will be glad you came to me!’’ he
said, exultantly, although he could scarcely
speak above a whisper now. ‘‘Look at this
face! You remember how I received these
scars. You saved my life—saved me from
burning to death after I had treated you
like a dog! I swore to repay that debt some
day, and I’ll keep my word! You may have
lost one fortune; but, before I die, 1’ll tell
you how to make another !”’

CHAPTER II.
ONE MORE UNFORTUNATE.

Qo

oy T was nearly two hours later when Don
if Kirk came down by the elevator, and
the expression of his face did not betray
| ° the fact that, since entering the hotel,
he had listened to a story that might change
his entire future—had been given papers
that might guide him along a trail leading
straight to a second fortune.

As the lad stepped from the car, a man
who had heen pacing back and forth near
the elevator, came forward, as if thinking
of going up, paused to look sharply into
Don’s face, and then said:

‘‘Hal Mr. Kirk—Mr. Donbry Kirk, I be-
lieve?’’

‘‘That is my name, sir,’’ replied Don, re-
spectfully; ‘‘but I must confess that you
have the best of me.’’

‘‘My name is Cawthorne—Colonel Moyen
Cawthorne, of Kansas City. I am interested
in cattle, sir—in cattle. We went up on the
elevator together a short time ago. Saw you
then—noticed you—asked your name. Was

Boy Cattle King, of whom I have heard so
much—very much surprised. I may say I
was likewise pleased—yes, sir, pleased. I
have often thought I would like to meet
you. Hem! hem! I ama great admirer of
the young men of this country. Greatest
country on the face of the earth; smartest
young men to be found the world over.
They have push, energy, ambition, get-up-
and-get. And you, sir, you—why, you are
one of the marvels of the great West. Still
a boy in years, you have the intellect of a
Webster, the artifices of a Napoleon, the
energy of a steam engine.’’

Don’s eyebrows drew near together, and
he regarded the man searchingly, all his
suspicions aroused, for something told him
that a person who was a stranger to him
would not approach him in such a manner
without having a hidden object.

‘“You are very complimentary,’’ he said,
quietly. ‘‘What can i do for you?”’

The colonel was not taken aback in the
least.

‘*Tt is not a question of what you can do
for me,’’ he said, blandly—‘‘not at all. I
may be able to do something for you—yes,
sir, I may. I have heard of your resolution
to break the beef trust, and I admire your
nerve—admire it greatly. You have under-
taken a mighty task—a herculean task. My
sympathy is entirely with you. It is plainly
the object of the Great Western Cattle and
Beef Company to control the market—to
boost prices—to make the people of the East
pay dearly for every pound of beef they
buy. Bread, sir, may be the staff of life;
but beef, sir, beef is the laboring man’s
principal nourishment. He should not be
deprived of his principal nourishment—he
should not be made to pay dearly for his
principal nourishment. The price of beef,
sir, should go down; it is already too high—
much too high. The object of the Great
Western is to make it still higher, and that,
sir, is striking straight at the laboring man.
It is a crime—a crime, I say.’’

Colonel Cawthorne seemed very much in
earnest. His hair bristled; his reddish mus-
tache stood out stiffly; he coughed gruffly in
his thick throat, and his ruddy face wore an
expression of indignation.

ut Don Kirk was something of a char-
acter reader,.and he saw immediately that
the man’s air of earnestness and indignation
was artificial. Yet he wondered what the
colonel’s object could be, and ventured to
lead him on a little:

‘*You say I cannot do anything for you,
Colonel Cawthorne; but that you may be
able to do something for me. What is it?’’
‘+ Bh???

‘¢What can you do for me?”’

‘‘Ah! Oh! You are a boy of business. I
see that—I like it. I admire your style—I
do, sir.’*

‘*But what can you do for me?’’ persisted
Don.

‘“‘That remains to be seen. You have
chosen a mighty task in bucking against the
beef trust—a mighty task. You are still but
a boy—pardon me—for all of your success.
You have been making a brave fight—a
noble fight; you must have spent a great
deal of money. Now, I have become inter-
ested; I have money; I may be able to aid
you. By this time you must be near the bot-

 

 

and his loftiness took a sudden and ludicrous
tumble, as, with fingers that were not quite

‘Yes, I have given it up.’’
‘And you lost——’’

tom of your fortune—you cannot have much
left? Eh? Am I right? I fancy I am!’’

very much surprised to learn you are the}

Don believed he understood the man’s pur-
pose now. The Great Western Cattle and Beef
Company did not know he had abandoned
the fight; they thought he had come to Den-
ver fora further supply of funds, or, pos-
sibly, to interest capitalists with whom he
was friendly. Colonel Cawthorne was doing
his best to pump the boy.

‘“You are at liberty to fancy whatever
you like, and I assure you, sir, that I do nct
require any aid in fighting the beef trust.
Good-day.”’

Don pushed past the man and walked
away.

‘*Hh? Oh, I say!’’ spluttered the colonel,
his crximson face getting redder than usual.
‘*Ts this the way you treat a gentleman who
—— Confound the stripling—confound him!
He’s too sharp—much too sharp! He
wouldn’t talk—not a bit. I don’t know
any more than I did before—not a thing
more. Confound him--I say, confound
him !’’

Don left the hotel, and walked along the
street with a swift and springy step. He
had not proceeded far before he very nearly
ran into a youth of about his own age.
30th lads halted and stared.

‘*Don Kirk !’?

‘* Aubry Beauchamp!’’

The names fell from their tongues ina
way that told how well they were ac-
quainted, and then, in unison, both cried:

‘*T thought you were in Chicago!’

The boy Don had met looked rather shab-
by, although his clothes had once been
fashionable and costly, and his appearance
was a great surprise to the young rancher.

‘‘T haven’t been in Chicago for two
weeks,’’? declared the lad Don had called
Aubry Beauchamp. ‘‘I came back rather
sudden. ’’

‘‘Why,’’ said the young cattleman, ‘‘the
| last time I saw you, you were living on the
| top of the town at the Palmer House. You
| were in wheat, and you expected to owna
| big share of Chicago.in a few days.”’

Aubry smiled ruefully.

‘*Wheat is a bad thing to monkey with,’’
he acknowledged. ‘‘I lost a cool fifty thou-
sand in learning my lesson. The governor
says that sum is quite enough to give any
young man a fair start in life, and now he
refuses to cough up even a V, sol amon
my uppers. In other words, I am bu’sted,
aud badly bu’sted at that. I’ve hocked every-
thing I had to svak, and I[ don’t know
where lam going to raise the wind to get
me over another day.’’

Don whistled, and then he observed:

‘*Well, this is truly a surprising turn of
fortune, old man; but we all have to take
our medicine, and it is useless to kick.’

‘‘What’s that? You don’t mean to say you
have met with any hard luck?’’

‘“‘T may not be quite as hard up as you
are, for Lhave a few dollars left, although
none to boast about.’’

‘‘The Great Western Cattle and Beef Com-
pany——”’

‘*Have things all their own way now for
all of me.”’

‘*You have given up the fight?’’

‘* For the present.’’

‘*Well, may I be hanged!’’

‘*T have lost a fortune in trying to break a
trust-organized for the purpose of enriching
a few individuals at \the expense of the
many. Ihave a hatred for trusts and com-
bines that are organized to oppress the weak
and helpless, and I will fight them when-
ever and wherever I can. My attention was
drawn in particular to the Great Western by
the fact that Ben Shawnagan, formerly an
active member of the Cattlemen’s Combine,
and as big a rascal as ever lived, was con-
cerned in the fusing of the several com-
panies of which the trust is now made up.
Shawnagan has never forgotten that I broke
up the combine, and he has repeatedly sworn
vengeance on me. If the beef trust proved
a success, I saw he would have the power to
strike me through the concern, and I re-
solved to take the bull by the horns and do
my best to overthrow the trust before it was
solid. I did my level best, and I would have
succeeded if my fortune had been about
double what it was.’’

‘*By Jove! I never expected to see you in
hard lines, Don. What are you going to do
now?”? ‘

‘‘T have lost one fortune, but I am going
to make another.’’

Aubry shook his head doubtingly.

‘You will find that easier said than done,
1 fancy. Chance surely favored you in the
first case, but I doubt if you obtain another
fortune so quickly and easily.’’

Don drew a bandsome watch from
pocket, glanced at it, and then said:

‘‘T was going to see my lawyer, Owen
North; but I doubt if he can be found at his
oftice now, as it is getting late. I will see
him inthe morning. Come with me to the
Denver Club, and we will have’ something
to eat. You know I belong to the Denver
Clyb, although it was necessary to suspend
a certain rule in order to admit me asa
member. I can take you there as a guest,
and we can talk matters over. I have a tale
I wish to unfold to you, my boy. In this
venture for a new fortune [ shall need a
partner, and ‘you are just the fellow I am
looking for. We are down on our luck now,
but if Miles Darltoh has not made a terrible

 

his

 

blunder, we will both have money to burn
within a very few months,”’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

waited t
by the «
given tl

Aubr}

when 1
latter |
the
rancher
ready-n
he was:
his shay
Howe
Kirk’s |]
he was
and ma
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SY OU
saved |
Three S
been ve
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Double
greater
Horse I
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led hir
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ton tol
as pos
laughe
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but ‘fo
mica |
hela ti
discove
enced
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went.
** Day
Jake §
man 0]
was n
ton wo
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him he
go int
Hills.
er hi
both w
course,
a verl
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and dc
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had
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mach
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It di
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’s pur-

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idoned
o Den-
r, pos-
om he
| doing

atever
do nct
trust.

valked

ylonel,
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n who
1 him!

He
know
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found

ng the
i? es
nearly
| age.

sina
e ac-
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shab-
been
irance
icher.
two
called
‘ather

‘‘the
mn the
You
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ith,’’
thou-
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aw he
im on
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very-
know
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take
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y you

s you
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Com-

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pak a
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the
com-
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yhen-
1 was
‘n by
ly an
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con-
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sroke
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' waited to be summoned to the dining-room

- latter had insisted on furnishing him with

 

' Yeady-made suit, as the clothing to which

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Crow

NEWS.

      

4643

 

CHAPTER III.

THE PHANTOM MINE,

N hour later the two youths were

seated in the luxurious parlor of the
Denver Club, and Don was talking
earnestly to Aubry, while they

      
 

x

)
on We

by the colored attendant to whom they had
given their order.

Aubry was much better dressed than
when Don met him on the street, as the

the cash for a respectable outfit; but the
rancher’s son was plainly ill at ease in a

he was accustomed had ever been fitted to
his shapely from by first-class tailors.

However, the words that fell from Don
Kirk’s lips soon caused Aubry to forget that
he was wearing his first ‘‘hand-me-down,’’
and made him listen with the closest atten-
tion.

‘*You know I saved Miles Darlton’s life—
saved him from burning to death in the
Three Star Ranch. For this Darlton has ever
been very grateful, and he has shown his
gratitude in various ways. He sold the
Double D less than a year ago, and sunk the
greater part of his fortune in the Crazy
Horse Mine, which proved such a complete
fizzle. After losing so much money there,
Darlton started out prospecting, and fate
led him into the Cochetopa Hills, to the
north of the Divide.

‘*] am not going to tell the story as Darl-
ton told it to me; I am going to cut it short
as possible. In the first place, he was
laughed at and ridiculed for going into that
section at all, for it was said that nothing
but ‘fools’ mines’ of ifon pyrites or yellow
mica had ever been located there; but he
hela to the theory that true veins are often
discovered by accident where the experi-
enced prospector would never dream of
looking, and to the land of ‘fools’ mines’ he
went.

‘*Darlton’s partner in this expedition was
Jake Shackett, who was at one time fore-
man on Ben Shawnagan’s ranch. Shackett
was not exactly the kind of a fellow Darl-
ton would have chosen for such an expedi-
tion, but itt happened that unless he took
him he could get no one but a tenderfoot to
go into the Black Ridge of the Cochetopa
Hills. :

‘‘They agreed that if either located a vein
both were to share equally as partners. Of
course, there were no writings, but this was
a verbal understanding—a ‘word-of-mouth
partnership.’

‘‘Tt is not necessary to tell of their ups
and downs, but the time came when Shack-
ett cursed Darlton for a fool—said nobody
but a fool would ever have thought of pros-
pecting in the Black Ridge. They had a
quarrel, and Darlton started out alone on a
eereens tour that morning, leaving
Shackett sullenly smoking and sulking at
camp. When Varlton returned at night,
Shackett and his portion of the outfit, with
his horse and pack animal, were gone.

‘‘Now it happened that Shackett deserted
a few hours too soon for his own good, for,
that day Darlton had climbed on foot to
where he could look down into a walled
pocket, and, from his almost inaccessible
perch, he saw something that completely
astounded him.

**At the western extremity of the pocket,
which was partially wooded, were two or
three rough buildings and the black mouth
of a shaft. He could see an ore-crusher, and
a pile of ‘dump’ told that it had been
worked; but the place was utterly deserted,
with no sign of life anywhere about, and
the buildings were falling into decay.

‘‘When he had recovered ina measure
from his surprise, Darlton looked about for
a place to descend into the pomet, which
seemed walled in on all sides by precipices.
He finally discovered a place where he was
able to descend to within thirty feet of the
bottom, and he let himself down that dis-
tance with his rope.

‘*A closer examination showed him he
had made no mistake in thinking the place
deserted. The only living thing he found
anywhere about the buildings was a rattler,
which he promptly killed. The machinery
was incrusted by rust, the buildings rotten
and sagging, and everything seemed to indi-
cate that Darlton was the first human being
to visit the deserted mine for years.

‘‘Within the building that apparently had
been used to live in, Darlton “aia indica-
tions that the place had been abandoned
suddenly, and without premeditation, for
things were left as if the former occupants
had stepped out with the intention of re-
turning as usual. This caused him to wonder
greatly what had happened, and .why the
mine had been deserted at all.

‘* Another mystery was how the heavy
machinery had ever been brought into that
pocket, for the most natural and easy place
of access seemed to be the spot where Darl-
ton let himself down by means of his rope.
It did not seem probable the heavy iron-
work had been dragged up over the moun-
tains and then lowered into the pocket, and
yet he could discover no other way of get-
ting it there.

‘*But Darlton’s ‘amazement was to be

ried. The shaft extended at a gentle slope
for a distance of no more than twenty-five
or thirty feet, and at its extremity was piled
the result of the last blast put in. When
Darlton examined this ore he found it so
rich in gold that he could scarcely believe |
the evidence of his senses.

‘*Miles Darlton carried a lot of specimens
with him when he returned to camp that
night, thinking he would astound Shackett
with the richness of his discovery; but
Shackett was gone, and Darlton soon came
to the conclusion that, as he had been de-
serted by his partner, he was the sole
claimant and owner of the abandoned mine.
‘*The following day Darlton returned to
the pocket and brought away another load
of ore; and then, as his provisions were
running low, he packed up and started for
Blue Pass, the nearest town on the line of |
the Denver and Rio Grande. |

‘‘Now you will be somewhat surprised |

when I inform you that Blue Pass is less |
than twenty miles from Lost Pocket, as |
Darlton christened the valley in which he}
had found the abandoned mine. He made no |
show of his ore there, but proceeded to Gun- |
nison, where he had it assayed. ‘The assayer
said he must have chosen his specimens with
great judgment and care, as it would clean
up over ninety dollars to the ton; and the
man would not believe that the rock had
been picked up at random amid a pile from
a blast, any of which was equally as good.
‘¢ ‘My dear man,’ he said, ‘if you have
discovered a lode that will pan out one-half
of that to the ton, you’ll have one of the
richest mines in Colorado.’
‘‘Having settled this point, Darlton re-
solved to return to Lost Pocket and put in a
blast at the bottom of that shaft. Having
done this, he could lay claim to the mine
and bring away more ore from the last
blast, so that any doubts would we be set-
tled in his mind.

‘*But Darlton was to conclude that he
had well named the place Lost Pocket, as
when he came to look for it again, it was
not easily found. For weeks he wandered
about searching for the valley which he
knew must be close at hand, although he
could not relocate it. His provisions ran out,
he became hungry, ragged, desperate, and
still he would not give up. He was taken ill
away there amid the mountains, and yet he
continued to search for the lost mine—con-
tinued to search till he finally found it
again.

‘‘He went down into the pocket, put in
his blast, posted his claim to the abandoned
mine, and then came away with more of
the quartz. But he came near dying before
he could reach Blue Pass. He did not die
then, however, but he is at the Hotel
Metropole, suffering from a combination of
diseases brought about by his exposure, and
the doctor says he cannot live much longer.

‘‘Knowing he must die, and having no
relatives for whom he cares, Darlton
thought of me and sent for me. I was in
Chicago pushing the fight against the beef
trust, a fight that I did not mean to give up
as long as 1 hada dollar. His second dis-
patch entreated me to come to him if I
wished to see him alive, and I threw up
everything and came.

‘¢Now, Darlton has willed me this mine,
and he has had the will made out properly
by alawyer. If it is nearly as rich as he
thinks, it will be one of the most valuable
lodes in Colorado, and the fortune I lost in
my battle with the Great Western Cattle
and Beef Company will soon be recovered.”’

‘‘TIn which case you will be a lucky boy,’’
said Aubry. ‘‘But you deserve your fortune,
and I will not envy you.’’

‘‘Thank you, Aubry,’’ smiled Don. ‘‘But
you are to be in this with me for a share—
say one-fifth.’’

‘‘Why should you be so generous? I
already owe you a debt I can never repay,
for didn’t you save me from--—’’

“Do not speak of that now. That is in
the past, and we understand each other
better than we did once. What do you say—
are you with me in this business?”’

‘“To the end.’’

Their hands clasped, and the partnership
was formed.

‘‘But is it not possible that other claim-
ants for this mine may appear?’’ Suggested
Aubry.

‘‘ Anything is possible, but we can hold it
after we reach it and record our claim. -No
record of the mine has ever been made in
Saguache County, for Darlton has had the
records examined, and it does not appear.
He says the lode surely cannot be located in
Gunnison. No work besides Darlton’s blast
has been done on the mine for more than a
year, so he hasa clear right to it, and he
can dispose of it as he wishes.’’

Aubry was silent, his brows knitted, a
thoughtful look on his face, and Don
watched him closely, wondering upon what

point he could be speculating. He was not
eft long in doubt.

‘‘How about finding our way to Lost
Pocket? If it was so difficult for Darlton to
return there after having visited the place
once, can we find our way there at all?’

“Just the question I expected you to
ask,’’ declared the young cattleman. ‘‘Darl-
ton thought of that, for he did not know
but he would be bothered about going back

 

 

doubled on exploring the shaft, which he
did with the aid of a pocket-lamp he car-

 

tramped enough to be familiar with. On
that map he located the mine, and plainly
marked out the trail to it.’’

‘*And you have that map?”

‘*Yes. See, here is Miles Darlton’s will,
in which he bequeaths to me everything of
which he dies possessed, mentioning the
mine in particular.’’

Don placed the will on the table before
Aubry for inspection, while he drew another
paper from his pocket, adding:

“And here is the chart that will guide us
to the mine.’’

Together they leaned over the table. to
gaze eagerly at the chart, which had been
crudely drawn on a piece of paper, or leaf, |
torn from a memorandum book. The hearts
of both lads were pounding with exultation |
and excitement, so they did not hear the
heavy breathing of a man who was glaring
over their shoulders at the precious map.

‘“There,’’ cried Don, ‘‘you see the spot
plainly marked where the mine is located,
and you see the trail that leads to it from
the direction of Blue Pass. Darlton has
christened the mine ‘The Phantom,’ and it
is ours now. It has been abandoned so long
that no other human being hasa claim toit.’’ |
‘‘] reckon yer fergit Jack Shackett,’’ said
a hoarse voice behind them. ‘‘He an’t yar,
but I am, an’ I nail his claim ter thet thar
mine an’ ther chart.’’

A hand flashed over Don Kirk’s shoulder
and drove a long-bladed knife through the
chart to the mine, pinning it to the table.
With exclamations of surprise and con-
sternation, the two boys quickly whirled to
face the owner of the knife, a bow-legged,
squat man, with an ugly face.
‘‘Ben Shawnagan!’’ ejaculated Don.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
a - Oe

THE YOUNG CAPTIVE CHIEF.

BY J. L.

“HE Black Swan, Captain Shaw, mas-
th ter, my brother, Jack Hallett, being
hh supercargo, was bound out to the
op coast of Africa, to bring home freight
of palm oil, gold dust, and other produce of
the country. We had scarcely taken our
departure from Boston before Captain Shaw
fell ill, and Mr. Barr, the first mate, took
charge of the vessel. He might have been a
very good seaman, but he had not been out
to that part of the coast before. I had ac-
companied my brother to learn the way of
trading, hoping soon to get a similar situa-
tion to his.

We had sighted Cape Bojador one evening,
and the wind being fair, the mate said he
should make a straight course for the Cape
de Verde.

‘‘You forget the way the currents run
about here,’’ said Jack. ‘‘They have a
strong set inshore.”’

‘‘Tf you are commissioned by the owners
to take charge of this vessel, I will give her
up to you,’’ said the mate, who did not like
his authority interfered with; ‘‘if not, wait
till your advice is asked.”’

Jack and I were walking the deck at
night.

‘“‘We are keeping much too close to the
shore,’’? he observed. ‘‘If the wind were to
shift to the westward we should be ina
pretty pickle.’’ ’

The wind,did shift to the westward before
another hour had passed, and blew stronger
and stronger. Just as eight bells had struck
in he first watch, a loud grating sound was
heard.

‘‘Down with the helm!’’ shouted the mate.

It was too late; the vessel would not come
about, but drove on till she stuck bard and
fast, with her broadside to the sea. The
captain—ill as he was—came on deck, and
ordered us to lower a boat.

‘‘Hallett,’? he said, ‘‘do you take your
brother and three hands and pull ashore.
The rest of us must remain and try to get
the vessel afloat.’’

We did as he told us, carrying along rope,
so as to form a communication with the
shore, that, should the worst come, those
who remained on board might have a chance
of gaining it.

We had got within fifty fathoms when a
roller came hissing up, capsized the boat,
and sent us all struggling into the water. I
struck out, calling to Jack, and the next in-
stant found my feet touching the sand.

I scrambled out, but on looking round,
what was my horror not to discover my
brother. Just then I saw a head and arms
rising amid the surf.

I darted forward and dragged the person
up. It was Jack.

He came quickly to himself.

Together we rescued the three seamen, but
the boat was knocked to pieces, and the eud
of the rope lost. We could neither return
nor help those on board to reach the shore.

The wind was increasing, the clouds cov-
ered the sky, anid we lost sight of our vessel.

Finding that we could do nothing on the
beach, we sought for shelter under the lee
of a sand hill, where, exhausted by our ex-
ertions, we fell asleep.

When we awoke the next morning and
looked out, not a vestige of the vessel could

 

 

 

ADAMS,

 
   

 

bodies of our shipmates. We were hungry
and thirsty, but no water could we discover.

‘*There may be streams notwithstanding,’’
said Jack. ‘‘Many lost themselves in the
sand; we must push inland in search of one;
and the rocks will supply us with food.’’

We had provided ourselves with broken
spars to support our steps, and serve as
weapons of defense. :

Before starting, we got enough shell fish
from the rocks to make a hearty meal, and
took some in our pockets, but it was water
we wanted. All that day we pushed on east-
ward, and the next and the next. Our shell

| fish having turned bad, we were starving.

At last, getting to the top of a sand hill to
look out, Jack fancied he saw some green
trees in the distance.

‘*There may be an oasis out there with
water,’’ he said. ‘‘We must try to gain it.’’
In spite of the hot sun beating down on
our heads, we went on. Still the oasis, if
such it was, appeared as far off as ever.
Jack cheered us on.

One of the seamen declared he could go
no farther, and sank down, begging us to
bring him water if we should find it. In vain
we tried to persuade him to come along,
and at last had to leave him to his fate!
Poor Ned! liquor had been his bane.

He had got hold of spirits the night before
we drove ashore. A

We hurried on, eager to obtain water, not
only for ourselves, but that we might rescue
our shipmate fiom death. We were almost
sinking, when our eyes were cheered by a
grove of trees, though still far off. Jack
acknowledged that they could-not have
been visible from where he had supposed he
had seen them.

‘‘They are date trees,’? he exclaimed.
‘‘They will afford us food, and water we
may hope to find under them,’’

As we drew near, our eyes were glad-
dened by the sight of a small pool, formed
by a spring bubbling out of the earth.

Falling on our knees, we eagerly baled the
water into our mouths with our hands.
Thus revived, the two seamen were able to
climb the trees and obtain as many bunches
of dates as we wanted.

We now thought of our shipmate; but
when the sun went down, the sky became
overcast, and to find him in the dark seemed
impossible.

‘‘We can’t let him die,’’ said Jack. ‘‘I
am ready to run the risk.’’

‘¢ And I will go with you,”’ I said. -

This remark shamed our two companions,
Ben Holding and Tom Hill, who had thrown
themselves on the ground to sleep, and they
agreed to accompany us.

Jack thought he knew the direction to |
take, and in the cool of night traveling was
easier than in the daytime.

We thought not of lions, or leopards, or
other beasts of prey.

Though ready to sink with fatigue, we
went on until we fancied that we had
reached the spot where we had left poor

?

Ned. We shouted his name, but no answer
came. We searched about, keeping within

hail 6f each other.

At length Ben Holdiug cried out:

‘¢Here he is!’’

We hurried up, but poor Ned was dead.
We were too much fatigued to return to the
oasis, so throwing ourselves down under the
shelter of a sand heap, we fell asleep.

The sun had already risen high when I
awoke. On going to the top of a sand hill
to look out for the oasis, I saw between it
and us a number of objects. I-ealled to
Jack, who joined me.

‘‘There are two parties on camels and
horses, it seems to me,’’ he said. ‘‘One fly-
ing from the other.’’

Descending the sand hill, we concealed
ourselves behind it, lest we should be dis-
covered; but, unable to restrain my curi-
osity, I crept on one side, whence I could
see what was going forward.

The fugitives had turned around to meet
their pursuers. A fierce fight was going for-_
ward, in which the camels on both sides
seemed to be taking a part by kicking and
leaping at each other, and I could hear their
peculiar cries amid the clash of the weapons,
and the shouts of the combatants.

Presently I saw a person, who had ap-
parently been thrown from his camel, come >
rushing at headlong speed toward the sand —
hill. :

I drew back, and in another minute he —
came around to where we lay. ‘

He was a mere boy, dressed in loose trou-
sers, a silk jacket, a shaw] around his wa’
and a turban on bis head. igi

His alarm at seeing us was so great that
he was running on to avoid us when Jack,
who spoke Arabic, called to him gently,
telling him that we were friends. On this he
came and crouched down close to us, trem-—
bling in every limb. ;

‘‘From whom were you flying?’’ asked
Jack.

‘‘from the Ouadelins, who carried me off
oe my father’s camp,’’ said the young
Arab.

them?’’ asked Jack. é :

‘*No. Those who attacked my captors are
equally enemies to my péople; and had they
taken me, I should have fared worse than
before,’’ he answered. :

 

 

there a third time, and he drew a map of
the surrounding country, which he had

4

we see, but the beach was strewn with
wreck, and here and there lay the dead

From the sounds which reached our ears
we knew that the fight was still raging, but

  
 
 
   
  
 
  
    
   
     
  
  
  
     
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
   
 
  
    
  
  
   
     
  
  
  
  
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
  
   
  
 
  
    
   
  
   
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘“‘But were your friends not pursuing ~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
 
  

4644

    

 

moving farther and farther from where we

lay.

The young Arab, however, could not re-

Hf frain from trying to see what was going on,

Se and had Jack not pulled him back, would
very likely have been discovered.

At length the sounds ceased, and, crawl-
ing to the brow of the hillock, so as just to
look over it, I saw the two parties still ap-
parently carrying ona straggling fight in
the far distance.

We were by this time hungry and very
thirsty.

‘*Come; let’s be going back to the date
grove,’’ cried Ben, ‘‘for my throat is like a
dust-bin.’?

‘‘Should the Arabs come back they’ll
carry us off if we do,’’ said Jack. ‘‘Better
bear our hunger and thirst till the coast is
clear.’’

It was all we could do, however, to re-
strain the men.

Selim, the young Arab, said that Jack’s
advice was good, and advised us to remain
concealed for the present. At last Ben and
Tom declared that they could stand it no
longer, and in spite of Jack’s warning, set
off, running for the date grove.

We watched them as far as we could see
their figures. At length they appeared to
have entered it.

ie They had been gone for some time, when
Selim, who had been looking out at the top
of a hill, said that his enemies were making
for the date grove.

My fear was, that Ben and Tom would be
on their way to rejoin us, and being seen by
the Arabs, would lead them to our hiding-
place.

The Arabs came nearer and nearer.

I fancied that I saw our two shipmates
just coming out of the grove, but they, on
perceiving the Arabs, darted back again,
trying to conceal themselves.

Their capture was certain.

The Arabs reached the date grove, and to
our dismay, appeared to be preparing to
pass the night there.

Our sufferings now became intense. We
feared also that the sailors would be com-
pelled to betray us. The evening was ap-
proaching, and I felt that I could scarcely

ope to live through the night if we could
not obtain food.

Suddenly, Selim, observing our counten-
ances which showed what we were feeling,

_ put his hand in his pocket, and producing a
ate of dried dates, offered them to us.
‘hough our thirst, was great, we were able
to eat them, and felt much revived.
. ‘They will go by daylight to-morrow,’’
said Selim, pointing to the grove, ‘‘and
_ then we may obtain water.’’
When night came on we lay down to rest.
' There was little risk now of being discov-
ered by our enemies, but a lion or some
other wild beast might scent us out. Both
Jack and I, however, were too tired to keep
awake, but Selim seemed to divine our
thoughts, and offered to sit up and watch
_ while we slept.
He was faithful to his trust. Whén the
dawn broke, and I awoke, I saw him still
sitting with his eyes fixed on us,
‘“‘The Ouadelins are on the move,’’ he
said, ‘‘but wé must lie close, or they will
discover us.’’
1, however, went to the top of the hillock,
on which a tew bushes growing, completely
concealed me. Thence I cculd see the date
_ grove. Ina short time the Arabs appeared,
mounted on their camels, moving north-
_ ward.
_ We waited till they had disappeared in the
distance, then we all three hurried toward
the grove. On reaching it, we lost not a
moment in eee our thirst, and as
‘soon as we had recovered our voices we
shouted for Ben and Tom.
| No answer was returned.
We hunted about in all directions, and at
last came to the conclusion that the Arabs
had carried them off. They had also taken
away a large portion of the dates, but a few
remained, which Selim, climbing a tree, got
for us. Weremained in the grove all day,
_ eating dates and drinking water.
“Tsay, Fried, we can’t live here forever,’’
said Jack, ‘‘for we shall soon have eaten up
all the provisions the country supplies. I
must consult with Selim as to what course

 

 

 

 
  
 
  
  
  
  
   
    
 
   
   
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
    
   
   
  
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
   

 

alien tas

elim advised that we should move northb-
ward. It was a long journey to the tents of
his people, he said, but he thaught that he
could conduct us in safety. :
Accordingly, after another night’s rest,
having loaded ourselves with dates, and for-
tunately discovered a leathern bottle, which
we filled with water, we set out. It had
evidently been left behind by the Arabs.
Selim advised us to be very careful of the
water, as it might be many days before we
uld reach another spring.

- With our sticks in our hands, we trudged
over the plain. Though the heat was great,
the country as we advanced was less arid
and sandy than farther south. ,

. After traveling for five days, we unex-
pectedly came upon another date grove,
shading a pool. Here we replenished our
Gay's rest and water, and after a whole

  

=

 

   

 
  

  

s rest again set forward.

Lean give but a meager description of our
_ journey. Day after day we trudged on,
sometimes almost starved, and ready to die
thirst. Occasionally we saw what we

   

 

GooDdD NEWS.

| supposed to be caravans moving in the dis-
tance.

carry us off to sell as slaves.

At length one day, as we were traversing
a wide open plain without either hillocks or
bushes, we saw some moving objects in the
distance. They neared us rapidly, and we

camels’ backs.
‘*The camels are of the Bu Saif breed,’’
cried Selim. ‘‘We cannot escape them.’’

attempt,’’ said Jack.

We stood as Jack advised, close together;
| he in front, Selim and Ion either side of
him. Asthe camels drew nearer, we saw

lows, brandishing swords and spears.

Uttering loud shouts, they made as if they
would cut us down, when suddenly Selim
darted forward, and, raising his hands, ex-
claimed:

‘‘T’m Selim Ben Hamid, the son of the
chief of the Malashlas. Spare these white
men; they are my friends.’’

The Arabs, instead of cutting us to pieces,
instantly reined in their camels. One of
their leaders took up Selim behind him, and
two others, Jack and me, in their fashion
treating us with great respect, then turning
their camels’ heads, again set off at full
speed northward.

“‘T say, Fred, how do you like it?’’ asked
Jack.

‘‘Not at all; but it’s better than being
killed,’’? I answered, for in a few minutes
from the rough motion of the camel the skin
was nearly worn off my legs.

The remainder of the day we traveled on

friends encamped, and very glad Jack and
I were to get some rest.

days’ journey before we could reach the
camp of his people. When Jack said that he
didn’t think we could bear the bumping, he
replied that we should soon get accustomed
to it. The night’s rest and some black bis-
cuit in addition to the dates restored our
strength, and we proceeded on our journey.

I thought sometimes that I should have to
give in, for the enduring camels moved
twelve hours together without stopping.

I could not conceive, for they went on with-
out food, and we, their riders, ate only a
handful of dates.

customed to it, however, though by the
time we reached his father’s tents we were
little more than skin and bone.

As the old chief saw us approaching he
came out, and after embracing bis son, who
told him of the services we had rendered,
expressed his gratitude to us in a long
harangue, nota word of which I understood.
As he was on friendly terms with the tribes
to the north, he promised to forward us to
the coast.

After spending a week at his tents, we
recommenced our journey, accompanied for
several days by Selim, from whom we
parted with much regret.
that he would use every endeavor to dis-

Two years afterward, when I went out as
supercargo of the Rattlesnake, to my satis-
faction 1 found Ben on board her, and he
told me that Tom had also escaped, both of
them having undergone incredible hardships
and met with the most wonderful adven-
tures, till they were discovered by the
young chief, Selim, who effected their re-
lease from captivity.

a
( GY

Do THINGS.

EDITED BY DAVID PARKS.

SOME ODD THINGS ABOUT BEING
TIRED.
a

EING tired’? does not sound a very
scientific expression, but, if we prefer

to do so, we can say that we are
“7 going to think about physiological fa-
tigue, which sounds much grander, and
means pretty much the same thing.

The words ‘‘physiological fatigue’’ are
used to denote a class of facts very curious
and unfamiliar, and, by way of showing
what they mean, we can try a remarkable
little experiment, which needs for its per-
formance nothing more than a very quiet
room and a watch. We will place the watch
on a small wooden box, or on anything that
will serve as a sounding-board, and sit near
it in such a position that it is in a straight
line with one ear, at such a distance that we
can just hear the watch ticking. The 4vatch
should be about on a level with the ear, the
distance being probably somewhere between
four and five feet. Instead of a watch we
may, if we choose, use a small clock, and
the distance will then be greater. Some peo-
ple find a difficulty in hearing so slight a
sound as the ticking of a watch.

Now, let us listen for a while very atten-
tively to the sound of the watch or clock.

 

   
 

 

We ail soon find that the intensity of the

‘sound, as heard, varies considerably. After

half a dozen ticks or so it will become softer

soon made them out to be a body of men on |

that they were ridden by dark-skinned fel- |

till we reached another oasis, where our |

Selim told us that we had many more | one,

What they and their masters were made of |

As Selim had remarked, we did get ac- |

He promised |

cover Ben and Tom, and obtain their release. |

| : . : .
|—it may become even inaudible—then it

Selim advised us not to attempt to gets loud again, and then again it is softer.
join them, as he feared the Arabs might | What is the cause of this?

| Aneminent physiologist gives as the reason
that the ear-nerve gets a little tired after
carrying the sound of the watch for a little
time, and loses its sensitiveness. Butina
few seconds it recovers, and acts as well as
ever. Then it wearies again, and so on.

| Buta much more familiar class of fatigue
| experiences are those furnished by the eye.

: When electric lamps are first used ina

‘“‘Then let us stand still and not make the | house, it usually happens that everybody

{looks at one of them a good deal, and on
turning away to other things after doing so,
we shall find that we are nearly blind, and
see a little spiral, like the filament of the
lamp, outlined on everything we look at.

| Another experiment of the same kind is
easily made on any bright day.

 

  

 

 

 

Take a piece |

ot card, perfectly black, and cut a device or |

letter out of it like a stencil plate. Geta
little way from a small
up the card so that it cuts off the whole of
the window from view. Look at the letters
|or other device on the card for a little while
—say half a minute on a very bright day, a
minute or so on a day less bright. Then
close the eyes and you will soon begin to see
the letters again—but this time not in
bright light ona dark field, but intensely
black on a grayish field. In this case what

we have done is to artificially fatigue the |

part of the eye on which the light fell
| through the piercing of the card.

If we tire the eyes by looking for a long
time at a spot of some bright color, and

then turn them to a plain white surface, we |
|shall see a ‘*phantom’’ spot there, but the |

spot will be of a different color.’ If it is at
a red spot that we last looked, the phantom
spot will be pale-Zreen, and vice versa. A
| real blue spot produces a phantom yellow
and so on.

In each eye there exists a certain spot
| which is not sensitive to light. We do not
notice this fact, because ordinarily one looks
at things with both eyes, and the field of
vision of the two, coinciding, corrects the
deficiency. But we can detect the spot if we
draw a couple of stars, or a star and a dot,
on a piece of paper about four inches apart.
Hold the right eyelid down, and look at the
star (which is to the right of the paper)
with the left eye only. You will be able to
see the dot as well; but look at the star.
| Now, slowly move the paper to the left, and

when the star is a little way past_ an imag-
inary line drawn straight forward from the
pupil of the left eye, the dot will disappear.
This is not because the dot is out of the
range of vision, because if you continue to
move the paper toward the left, the dot will
presently be seen again. You must take care
in doing this not to move the eyeball, or the
experiment will fail. ,

A more correctly ‘‘muscular’’ experiment
is this: Look at some distant object through
a pair of opera-glasses. On suddenly re-
moving the glasses you will note a percepti-
ble, though slight, interval, during which
the object will be invisible. This is because
the accommodation muscle of the eye has,
while we were looking through the glass,
become adjusted to the object as seen thus.
When the glass is taken away the optical
apparatus of the eye has to adjust itself
afresh, and this, though a very rapid, is not
'an instantaneous, process.

The eye is a very wonderful, but by no
means a perfect optical instrument. It hasa
wonderful muscle which adjusts the aperture
through which light passes to the back cur-
tain (retina) of the eye, according to the
intensity of the light. In our eyes this ad-
justable aperture is round, and it contracts
to a smaller circle when there is more light,
expanding to a larger one when there is less.
The aperture in a cat, however, closes in a
slit-shaped way, and is much more adjustible
in this animal than in man. It is thus that
a cat ‘‘sees in the dark.’’ It cannot, of
course, see in the dark, but it can see in
very diffused light. If you look at pussy as
she sits in the bright sunlight, the aperture
is a mere line. But carry her quickly into a
room nearly dark, and you will see the
actual motion of the aperture as it slowly
opens to accommodate itself to the new con-
ditions. Reverse the experiment, and the
curtain will slowly close again.

The muscles by which we move our hands,
arms, legs, and all parts of our body, act
by changing shape. They contract and be-
come thickex when we wish to draw up
or bend a limb. But they will not keep
on working aren)

Tf you hold a dumb-bell straight out from
the shouldor (knuckle up), and, bending the
arm, bring the dumb-bell to the armpit,
there will be a considerable strain on the
| biceps or muscle of the upper arm. Repeat
this several times, and you will find that it
will presently be moro than you can do.
The muscle is fatigued.

When we sleep the muscles rest. [tis a
curious thing that in many people the mus-
cles do not, all of them, seem to wake up to
their full strength first thing in the morn-
‘ing. If you perform the following admirable
‘exercise, you will very likely find that you

cannot repeat it nearly as often as you ean

about midday. Probably, however, break-

fast has something to do with this. The

exercise is to rest on the floor, full length,

on the toes and hands, and alternately raise

the body to the full length of the arms, and
’

 

window, and hold |

    

        
       
    
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
   
 
 
    
 
    

 

  

 

wi  detectiv

depress it until the face touches the ground. ees
We shall, probably, none of us, be the worse mat mu
for trying this experiment every morning. 7 yl
The muscles soon get educated up to it, and § ow oe
do not get tired so soon. i de eplac
Another example of muscular education is % eee
swimming. A person who has just learned 4% h ane ¥
to swim is physically incapable of going m ; ay
more than a few yards, not because he does hapel a
not know how, but because the arm and leg oye Jac
muscles soon get exhausted. They do not +} ge
feel tired, but they simply refuse to act. Be el mi
After a little practice they get educated to ea me
an accustomed movement, and the person vy a Pera
can swim some considerable distance. AY > eg
YOU MAY SEE SALT GROW. His o

bogus v
odor co
had not

You didn’t know salt would growin a af
bowl, did you? Well, it will. Takea glass ~
and fill it nearly full of salt, then water it

every morning as you would a house-plant. the en)
After you water it the first day pour ina » = from tt
few drops of three or four prettily colored ~ . It wa
links. In about a week the salt will begin to me were pr

 

letter a

grow, and will run over the cup and crystal-
* then su

ize on the sides. The different colors in the

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

    

ink blend, and the effect is strikingly beau- “yy to get

tiful. 4 Be b restora

Another very handsome ornament can be a The q

made with a glass nearly full of waterand the rea:
|a handful of oats, Just pour the oats in the gp ‘at it

water, and in a month a beautiful green 7 only tk
bunch will spring up and grow toa height | pase Ol
of about a foot. The sprouts will stay green ~~ letter ’

for a couple of months. f trace o!
If you like green things, wet a sponge, i, The i

sprinkle it with Silurian giass seed, and © the mu

suspend it from the ceiling. Jn less than a It. yp Th

week the sponge will look like a ball of ing's of
green grass. Hang four or five of these there. |
green balls about a rdom, and the effect is The i

quite pretty. was th

—>—————= 5 Byuee 7

Rie esa’, een Se tes eee a been ki

(This Story Will Not Be Seen in Book-Form. } - gone o

‘ . was no

4 he had

U ! § except

it not ¢

» had bee

OR, Jack

little le

DETECTIVE BORN AND- Dentin

| AND - BRED. Dentin

back hi

Me tote He w

By JOHN BLAKE STRONG. buildin

Look MAB ar) tective

(“THE JacK OF DIAMONDS” was commenced in _ eghon |

No. 282. Back numbers can be obtained of all News a Demi

Agents.) ‘ manne!

Rett. plunge

CHAPTER XXVIII. tio

A LAWYER’S FRANKNESS. 4 fa ~ gig

s,s YX $ % Me! “nNcar

HE best thing to do with this man,’’ . a er he

the said Jack, referring to Oliver, ‘‘is to Tack: ;

 

 
 
  

 
 

-) lock him up.”’

ty te Viol nave
growled the rascal.

‘‘Don’t be a fool,’’ rejoined Jack, coolly;
‘*it is you who have played me false. You
agreed to return that letter, and you haven’t
done it. That settles your case.’’

Oliver looked for a moment as if he medi-
tated a desperate resistance, but he quickly

“Oh,

played me _ false,’’

apolog)
It’s ha
man ir
I faile

 

 

 

 

       
    
     
  

  
      
     
    
  
 
    
     
 

    
 

   

se
thought better of it. Even if he had been ‘ t am
armed, a struggle would have been a des- a. ° ae
perate resort, but being disarmed by reason =. a net
of Carroll’s wonderful shot, there was really J rer
no chance for him. es a,
‘“*)?ll give you an opportunity to think 4 . Oth
this thing over,’’ said Jack. ‘‘I shall make =~ tin e
a complaint against you for assault. If you es ‘
will then do your best to straighten matters B) i, oT
out, I will use my influence in your favor.”’ ha
‘*What do you want me to do?’’ demanded mit ¢
Oliver. 1 aid,
**Restore the genuine letter,’’? said Jack, k : yi ’
sternly, ‘‘and tell me the truth about it. eae d
By doing so, you will practically turn arta ee
State’s evidence, and I feel safe in prom- Saeal
ising you the usual treatment given toa that ©
criminal who voluntarily assists the author- i OB
ities. That letter probably would help in FJ Ae o
clearing up the mystery of this murder; and mo 4
as the murder is a vastly more serious crime ] na ac
than stealing the letter, you would probably YS ad
suffer very little, if any, punishment, pro- a
vided you gave honest evidence.”’ a ii
It seemed for a moment as if Oliver would . TAR
accept the proposition. But suddenly a hoki :
change came over him. thy S
‘*Pve told you all I know,’’ he said, L. re
angrily. ‘‘I didn’t steal the letter, andif = hich
the one I gave you isn’t the right one, I. ‘+ veg
don’t know what’s become of it. Lock me OM
up, if you want to. I warn you, though, t ;
that there isn’t a prison that will hold me.’’ —. Tiel 8
Threats and persuasion failed to get any- = Sod tt
thing more out of the fellow. Jack, there- i= an j )
fore, handed him over to aconstable who _ Pick
was on the island, and the officer took him k
to Alexandria Bay. The charge was assault. a.
Jack went to Edgewood, and. searched iain
Oliver’s cottage there, in the hope of finding et oe
the genuine letter, but he was disappointed. mee
His work there, however, was not thrown ce
away. about
There was.only one person in the cottage Et rf
—a woman servant. Jack had secured a Ge 7
search warrant, and the appearance of that aie ;
legal document terrified the woman to a Be
point where she could be depended upon to AD ras
tell the truth. i b at k
Jack questioned her as to what Oliver bad © my. i

     

done after the interview which the young _

  

  
ind.
orse
ing.
and

n is
‘ned
ing
loes
leg
not
act.
1 to
‘son

na
lass
r it
ant.
in a
red
1 to
tal-
the
au-

be
and be
the a ;
een i
ght
een

ze,
and
na
| of
1eSe
| is

‘m.]

N

,

GOooD NEWS.

4645

 

detective had with him that day. The
woman said that, as soon as Jack had gone
away, Oliver had hurried into the house

and had got something out of a hiding place |

in the principal room. There was a brick
fireplace in that room; and Oliver’s secret
depository was a space under a loose_ brick.

The servant had spied upon him because
her suspicions had been aroused by some
words of the
and Jack which had come to her ears.

There was nothing under the loose brick
when Jack removed it, but the appearance
of the place, together with a faint, smoky
odor about the envelope, made the young
detective certain that it had lain hidden
there.

His own conclusion that the letter was
bogus was reinforced by the fact that the
odor could not be detected in the letter.
had not lain in that spot, nor had it been in
the envelope long enough to get the smell
from that.

It was easy enough to see where the facts

were pointing. Oliver had got the genuine
letter as soon as Jack had left him. He had
then substituted the false one, and had tried
to get out of his trouble by a pretended
restoration.

' The question was: What had. become, of
the real document? There was no indication
that it had been destroyed on the spot, and
only the envelope carried away. In that
case Oliver would probably have burned the
letter, and there would have been some
trace of the act.

. The indications were that he had taken
the much more natural course of preserving
it. Then be must have carried it to Dem-
ing’s office, for Don Carroll had traced him
there.

The interview between Deming and Oliver
was therefore explained. Oliver had re-
newed his attempt to sell the letter, and had
been kicked out of the office. He had then
gone over to Appletree Island. The letter
was not on him when he was arrested, and
he had been under Carroll’s eye all the time
except when he was in Deming’s room, Was
it not certain, then, that the precious paper
had been destroyed there, if at all?

Jack went back to Alexandria Bay in the
little launch that serves asa ferry. Just as

- she pulled in alongside the wharf, Jack-saw

Deming land from a skiff. He had come

P _ back hastily from Appletree Island.

| in
ews

we

He went to his little office in the store
building and Jack followed him. The de-
tective had decided to state the case frankly
to the lawyer.

Deming greeted Jack in his usual courteous
manner, and, without waiting for questions,
plunged at once into the subject.

‘“‘[’ve just found out what a rasca) that
man Oliver is,’’ he said. ‘‘You have caused
his arrest I hear. That’s right. Shall you
prosecute him for the theft of the letter?’’

‘*Then you know all about that?’’ queried
Jack.

‘Oh, yes; I knew about it this forenoon;
and I wish now that 1’d taken you more
into my confidence.

‘You, see Mr. Marshall,’’ he continued
apologetically, ‘‘you’re only a boy in years.
It’s hard to realize all at once that you’re a
man in intelligence and training. I’m afraid
I failed to ‘size you up,’ as the saying is.

‘¢In view of your youth, I have hesitated
to trust you fully in these terribly serious
matters. [won’t make the same mistake
again. And, to proveit, I’m going to be
perfectly frank with you in regard to this
affair of Oliver.

“The fellow has approached me saveral
times since the murder, and has hinted that
he could help me, if he were well paid for
it. There were facts in his possession, he
said, which I would Jike to know.

‘‘T gave him no encouragement. Indeed,
I didn’t think he was worth bothering
about. I knew that Mr. Marshall had em-
ployed the fellow for various errands, and I
suspected that some of them were of quos-
tionable character, and yet I didn’t believe
that Oliver:was worth buying.

‘But, this morning, he came right down
to business. | had been aware that Mr.
Marshall had written a very important
letter within a few days of his death. I sus-
pected that it was addressed to his cousin,
and that it looked toward a better under-

| ‘standing between them.

‘ts to its contents, I knew nothing. For
instance, I was totally ignorant whether it
_threw any light upon the long dispute as to
-Laura’s identity—a matter, by the way, of
which I know as little as you do, perhaps

ess.

_ “Mr. Marshall never said anything differ-
ent on that subject to me than he said pub-
icly; namely, that Laura was his daughter,
and that his cousin’s child had been killed
in the railroad wreck, long ago.

“‘Of course, I am as anxious as you are to

_know the facts. For some years I have been
doing my best to save Laura’s estate from

the ruin which threatened it. I am forced
to confess that my efforts have not been
very successful, anklin Marshall was
about the worst business man that I ever
‘Saw, and his mismanagement of that prop-
erty was something that language cannot
describe.

_ “But to resume my story; Oliver an-

-hounced to me this morning that he had
that’ letter. He said that I would do well to
buy it from him.

conversation between Oliver |

It |

 

‘‘J was naturally enraged. I threatened |
him with arrest. He laughed at me.
fellow has a certain shrewdness. He saw |
that I had no evidence against him but _ his |
own statement made without witnesses. He |
could deny that, if brought te trial, and |
conviction would be impossible.

‘*T felt that to denounce the man would
be to lose the chance of getting the letter.
He insisted that its contents threw much

| light upon the murder.

‘*In view of the great importance of the}
document, 1 decided to bargain with the |
fellow, if nothing better could be done. In}
order to have time for reflection, I put him
off until afternoon.

‘¢‘Then you stepped in and took the case
out of my hands. I am told that Oliver tried
to shoot you. I had not supposed he ‘was so |
desperate a character. In fact, as I said in
the beginning, the man’s true nature has
just dawned upon me,

‘* However, you secured the letter; that’s
the main thing. What does it contain? Is it
of so much importance?’’

‘You shall judge for yourself,’’ said

| Jack, and he laid the bogus letter before the

lawyer.

Deming eagerly scanned it. Then his face
took on a look of disappointment.

‘*Not worth the trouble it has cost,’’ he
cried. ‘‘It tells us nothing new. I see it is
written on a typewriter, and, of course, by
Mr. Marshall himself.”’

‘*Very unusual,’’ said Jack,
sneer.

‘*Not for him,’’ was the reply. ‘‘He was
afflicted with rheumatism which attacked
his right hand. He could hardly hold a
pen.’’

hiding a

At this mioment some one tried the door of |
the office, and then knocked, as the door was |

locked. Deming answered the summons.

A constable was outside, and he had a
message for the lawyer, which he delivered
in a low voice.

‘‘Oliver has asked to see me!’’ exclaimed
Deming, turning to Jack. ‘‘What can the
villain mean???

‘<The easiest way to find out,’’ said Jack,
with a smile, ‘‘is to go and see him.”’

The lawyer hesitated.

‘‘Perhaps I’d_ better,’’ he said, at last.
‘*He would hardly send for me except for a
really important reason. He will know that
I have no time to waste with him now.”’

‘*T will wait for you here,’’ said Jack.

Deming went away with the constable.
Jack waited five minutes without moving
trom his chair.

Then he rose, and locked the door. Having
done this, he went to a typewriter which
stood on a table beside the lawyer’s desk.

Hastily slipping a sheet of paper into it,
Jack wrote a copy of the letter which Oliver
had given him, Then he compared the two
bits of writing.

The work of a typewriter is almost as
characteristic as that of the human hand.
Jack bad made a study of the instrument,
and' his eye was quick to catch the indi-
vidual peculiarities of each machine,

Half an hour’s work with the two samples
of writing, together with a few tests of the
instrument, convinced the detective beyond
a shadow of a doubt that the bogus letter
had been written in Deming’s office, and on
his typewriter.

The conclusion seemed plain enough. The
lawyer had come to terms with Oliver; had
purchased the real letter; and had connived
in the preparation of a ‘‘fake’’ to’ be palmed
off on Jack. ;

‘‘T wonder if he did that because I’n
‘only a boy in years,’ and he couldn't trust
me??? said Jack to himself, ‘‘or because
he’s.a rascal and is afraid of me? He was
going to be ‘frank with me, was he? Well,
this is a good example of the average law-
yer’s frankness.’’

CHAPTER XXIX.
JACK’S PROMISE.

G AVING made the important dis-
ey covery of Deming’s double dealing,
C Jack decided not to await the law-
wy yer’s return. He wrote a note
making an excuse, and left it on Deming’s
desk. Then he took a skiff and rowed over
to Appletree Island,

The tints of the bright evening sky were
mirrored in the mighty river. Beauty and
peace were imaged everywhere. It’s a poor
sort of boy—or man, either—who is not
affected by the beauty of natural objects.
Jack was far too finely organized a creature

o be out of sympathy. with the scene around
m.

>

the first time he felt rebellious
against the destiny which made him an
avenger of crime. He wished that he were
rowing across to see Laura on no more im-
ortant errand than to ask her company in
is skiff. He would have been well content
to float idly down the calm river with her
till the day faded, and only the stars and
her bright eyes made light for him by night.
‘*1’m in love; that’s what’s the matter
with me,’’ he muttered. ‘‘1 must get out of
it. There’s no time for it. I must work,
work !”?
With this idea, he put the power into his
oars, and the light skiff leaped almost out

 

of the water. But the little naked god with

the bow and arrows kept pace with him,

}

and put into his mind the thought that}

Laura. i

It mattered little to him then that the girl
was almost inextricably enmeshed in the
tangled web of crime which he was trying |
to straighten out. She might, for all he |
knew, have been a witness of her father’s |
death. Certainly, she bad been close by
when the tragedy occurred. There was an |
empty cartridge shell in a_ pretty silver- |
mounted pistol whose story would have to
be told before the case could be considered
settled.

But Jack thought little of these things,
which shows that love is bad business for a |
detective. Laura’s beauty had bewitched |
him. He was going to ask her for her con-
fidence. Suppose she should tell him the

| wildest yarn ever heard outside the walls of

an asylum, would he not believe her?

She was sitting on the veranda as he came |
up the path. At sight. of him she rose |
quickly, and stepped forward with a cordial
greeting.

*‘Taura,’’ said he, ‘‘I think the time has |
come when you should trust me.’’

‘‘Trust you!’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘I do, and |
I always have.’? )

‘*Then tell me the story of that fatal |
night.”’

‘*You would not have me break a prom- |
ise, Jack?’’ : .

‘*There are promises that ought to be}
broken,’’ he said. ‘‘I speak of those that
have been exacted of honorable men and |
women by schemers for their own ends.’’ i

‘‘This is no case of that kind.’’

‘*T am not so sure of that.’’

‘‘Oh, indeed, you may be sure,’’ she}
cried. ‘‘The person to whom I have given |
niy word is not only very shrewd, but abso-
lutely to be trusted.’’

‘‘What is his motive for binding you to |
secrecy?’’ |

‘«There are several. The interests of jus- |
tice demand caution.

Jack reflected for.a moment. Then he said:

‘*Tf I describe to you a man, will you tell
me whetber he is the one whom you believe |
to be the assassin?’’

‘*T can see no harm in that.’’

The detective proceeded to describe the }
Jack of Diamonds as he appeared in the |
underground room. ;

‘“‘That is not the man as I saw him,” said |
Laura. ‘‘I will tell you that I saw the man )
in two aspects, and on two occasions. The |
first time, it was dark. I gota very faint |
idea of his appearance. The second time I |
had a fair chance to observe him. Mean-
while, he had made some changes of dis-
guise, as Ihave been told. But I am sure |
that I should know him now in any dis- |
guise.’’ :

‘‘When you saw him the second time,”’
said Jack, ‘‘was he like this’’—and the de-
tective described Edson, the traitorous de-
tective.

Laura-admitted that he was to some ex-
tent similar, but she mentioned certain
differences, asking Jack whether he thought
they could be due to disguise.

This was just what the shrewd fellow was
after. By proceeding on that line, and get-
ting Laura more and more interested, he at
last brought her to the point where she
furnished him with a full description of the
man whom she believed to be the murderer
of her father.

To make a rough outline of the descrip-
tion, it was that of a man of middle age,
beavily built, and tall, with iron-gray hair,
and a drooping mustache. .

‘*You saw him first in the wood?’’ asked
Jack, bewildered.

‘*Yes,’? she replied. ‘‘That was before the |
crime was committed. As I have already
said, he was ‘then differently disguised, and
I did not see him plainly.’’

‘Then how do you know that the two are
but one?’?

‘‘T have the best of reasons. Some one
who saw them plainer than I did is sure of
+t

2)

‘¢ And this ‘some one’ has pledged you not
to tell?”’

*tWVes,’?

‘He is perfectly honest and very shrewd?’’

‘<1 know him to be.”’

‘And you have the utmost confidence in
his judgment?’’ queried Jack, with a grim
smile.

‘*T have.’?

‘“It’s a pity,’’ replied the detective, ‘‘for
he is not worthy of it.’’

‘*What do you mean?”’

‘*Laura, the nan who has told you these
fairy tales is either very foolish or he wishes
to deceive you.”’

‘* Impossible. ’?

‘‘Certain. As for the man whom you have
described to me, I can at any moment lay
my hand upon him.’’

‘*‘Do’it, then!’ she cried. ‘‘He is the mur-
derer.’’

‘*You are mistaken, Laura,’’ said Jack,
ently. ‘‘You are mistaken in every way.
‘he two men were not really one; the second

was surely not the murderer; and, finally,
you would not recognize him if you saw him
again.’?

‘<Indeed I should!’

‘‘Pardon me, Laura. On this point I can
be positive. For I am the man!’

| the threads

| he did it, I can only guess.

 

‘“You! What madness is this?’’
‘“‘T am the man whom you describe. Did

he not come to this house immediately after

The | every stroke was bringing him nearer to | the murder, in the guise of a police official?

Was he not present when you knelt beside
your father’s body? Did he not afterward
find you and talk with you?’’

‘©Yes.??

‘*Why did you not denounce him???

‘*T did not then know that he was the one
whom I had seen in the woods——’’

‘‘But Mr. Deming told you that he

‘*How did you guess that?’’

‘*Tt’s evident enough. For some purpose

was.’’

of his own, Mr. Deming seems to wish to

obscure the case to others while keeping all
in bis own hands. He has re-
peatedly deceived me. I now find that he
has also deceived you. With what purpose
I cannot think
that he himself was deceived as to the iden-
tity of the assassin. Indeed, I am afraid
that he knows only too well.’’

‘*You cannot suspect him of complicity in
the crime??”’

‘“‘T cannot help doing so. Indeed, I have
sométimes thought it was he who fired the
fatal shot.’’

‘‘Dismiss that idea. Iam perfectly certain
of his complete innocence. ’’

‘*Because you were with him in the wood
when the crime was committed,’’ said Jack.
‘*Don’t deny it, Laura. It follows from
your statement. You saw the man whom
you thought to be the murderer, in the
wood, and somebody else saw him more
clearly. As Deming afterward identified me
as the man, why there’s no doubt about the
rest of it. You might as well tell me the
whole story, Laura.’’

‘*T would like to, Jack; indeed I would,’’
said the girl. ‘‘I’m sure my mind would be
easier.’?

‘‘Then don’t hesitate, It is I who should
have the information in this case. I am
making all the advance that is being made
in the direction of a solution of it.’’

‘*Yet you have failed to do what you
promised.’’

‘*What was that?’’

‘*To restore my father’s body.’’

‘J told you that within twenty-four hours
it should lie in the tomb which he, in life,
prepared.’”’

‘*Yes; that was what you said.’*

*¢ And I kept my word.’’

The girl sprang toward Jack, and put_ her
hand upon his arm while she looked intently
into his face.

‘*You*thave found his body?’’ she gasped.
‘*And it is now in the tomb!’’

‘*Yes,’’ he replied, ‘‘and it has been there
ever since it was stolen from this house.
What better hiding place could there be? I
tell you, Laura, that the officers of: the law
would have searched the whole earth before °
looking there. Buta flash of inspiration re-
vealed the trick to me.’’

‘‘Then the body was there when you made
the promise?’

‘*Yes: though I had not then seenit. I
reasoned it out in that moment while you ©
were speaking. Previous to that, I had not ©
known the location of the tomb. Remember
that I had but little chance to study the |
island. But your words at that time made
everything clear tome. I remembered how —
the servants and my men were arranged. I |
saw that the only way of escape for the
thief with the body was through the fringe
of trees leading around to the tomb. Sie

‘‘And then I thought how shrewd a thing
it was to hide the body there; and knowing
that I had to do with intellectual criminals,
Zeer that was what they would have

one. e

‘‘T immediately sent orders to have the
tomb guarded, and it has since been watched
every minute. The body was not actually
found until early this morning. You are
aware that the tomb is securely built, and —
that its iron door is always locked. oe

‘We hesitated to use force. The keys were.
not to be found. Others had to be made.”? —

“The keys!'’’ cried Laura. ‘‘They were
kept in that desk beside which Mr. Deming —
was found wounded. It was the keys that
his assailants were seeking.’? REE

‘‘That seems a.sound theory,’’ said Jack.

‘*What sball you do?’’ :

‘There must be an examination of the
body, Laura. Do you not think so??? a

‘‘For what purpose? Can he not rest in
peace?”’ ‘ Ke

‘‘But, cousin, the assassin’s bullet is in
the wound. If we obtain that, we go far to
solve the problem. There are four revolvers
in this affair thus far. All have different
calibers. The size of that bullet will tell
much. *

Laura sank back into a rustic chair th
stood upon the veranda. A shiver shook he:

frame. A 5 CaaS
‘‘True,’? she said, in a shuddering tone.
‘*Tt must be done.’’ Gere.

CHAPTER XXX.
LAURA’S STORY.

OU see, Laura,’’ said Jack, ‘‘that the
threads of this mystery are drawii
nearer together, and are ae
themselves into a strong rope to bind

the guilty. There are yet many strands to
be gathered. Will you be the one to make
‘my work more difficult??? kaha Pea
‘‘No, Jack, I will not,’’? she said. ‘‘I see
my duty clearly. It is not only a duty to

iz

 
  

 

X

thing.”

nated, in the place where we had sometimes

follow.
surrounding him have not reckoned upon,

_in the wood near by.

my father.

 

GrooDpD

 

]
you, but to another person whom I see that

you suspect. I will treak my pledge and
tell my story.

‘‘T suppose some girls would blush to tell
it, but lam not ashamed. On the night of
the crime, I met Mr. Deming by appoint-
ment, in the wood.”’

‘A lovers’ meeting,’’ groaned Jack, out
of his jealous heart.

‘‘Not quite that,’’ she said. ‘‘Mr. Deming

had honored me by declaring his love for |
| one breath and with the next expressing the

/ most gentle and chivalrous regard

me, andIdo not hesitate to say that my
feelings toward him were almost what he
wished them to be. He is a very superior
man, attractive in presence, and brilliant in
mind.

‘¢But more, far more than that, he had
been the good influence in my father’s life
for years—the only good influence, for my
own had seemed to fail.

‘‘T know as well as you do that at the
last, my father was both the leader and the |
victim of scoundrels. In what desperate |
schemes he was engaged, I do not know. He
concealed them from me, as well as from
Mr. Deming.

‘*Of course money was the root of evil
with him, as with others. I knew that he
had involved my fortune with his own, and
that he was fighting desperately to recover
what he had lost.

| injure my good name.
| Jack, the strangeness of the situation. A

meet him.
first.

‘¢ ‘Neming, you villain!’ he said, in a low
and harsh voice, ‘if you do not instantly
take Miss Marshall to the house, I will
break every bone in your body.’

‘‘He went on denouncing Mr. Deming for
having led me into conduct calculated to
You can imagine,

It was the stranger who spoke

nameless ruffian threatening violence with
for my
reputation !

‘*‘T saw, of course, that be must be an
agent of my father’s, and that the violence
was the agent’s, while the chivalry wasa
lesson taught to him. He had doubtless been
sent to watch me.

‘‘T could not see his face—scarcely even
the outlines of his form—as I peered around
the tree-trunk. His voice was strange to me.

‘‘Mr. Deming was naturally enraged. He
knew his own motives to be the best,; and to

enough to move any man.

‘‘He ordered the fellow to leave the spot
instantly. The reply was a firm,refusal, un-
less Mr. Deming would conduct me instantly

 

‘*He admired Mr. Deming for his honesty,
and for his business ability, yet he would |
never give him the requisite power. There-
fore, in spite of the good advice which Mr. |
Deming gave him, affairs were going from
bad to worse.

‘‘And in the midst of all this trouble,
which you can readily understand lay like
a mountain of lead upon my heart, was the
fear of that mysterious band of villains who
came and went upon their secret errands all |
about me.

‘‘Mr. Deming begged me to marry him,
though I am so young, because he said it
would give him the right to guard me from
the dangers thickening around me, and be-
cause it would add to his influence with my
father.

‘*Though fearing nothing for myself, I
feared everything for my father, and I was
disposed to listen to. Mr. Deming’s argu-
ments. If my father would have consented,
I would have yielded, but he would not
listen to Mr. Deming’s pleas’. Naturally,
the reasons could not be presented to him as
they had been to me.

‘*Within the last few weeks Mr. Deming
has been’ urging me to a desperate course.
He told me that the bands of the crim-
inal conspiracy were tightening about my
father.

‘« ‘We must get him away from here,’ he
said, ‘and there is only one way to do it.’ ”’

‘‘And that way,’’ said Jack, ‘‘was for
you to consent to an elopement. Then your
father -vould) pursue you, and thus fora
little while be free from the criminals who
surrounded him.’’

‘+ Jack, how do you know these things be-
fore you are told?’’ exclaimed the girl.
‘*Can you read the mind?’’

‘‘T can read the facts,’’? replied Jack,
‘twhen they are plain enough. And I can
tell, to some extent, what certain persons
would do and say in certain situations. That
isa part of my training. Deming was de-
termined to win you, and the desperate plan
which he adopted was, perhaps, the best
that could have been made, under the cir-
cumstances.”’

‘*You persist in speaking disrespectfully
of him,’’ said Laura. ‘‘I believe you hate
Mr. Deming.’’

‘‘T am jealous of him,’’ rejoined Jack,
with a grim smile. ‘‘It is much the same

The girl] flushed, and her voice was tremu-
lous with emotion as she continued:

‘tWe are cousins, Jack; that has been
agreed upon. Let me now goon with my
story. I pass to the events of that night.

‘‘My father watched me. Some of his
servants were little more than spies. Mr.
Deming proved thistome. Naturally, we
were obliged to speak upon such matters
with the utmost caution. It was for this
reason that I sometimes saw Mr. Deming in
the grove.

‘tT had never before done so in the even-
ing, but on this occasion he urged the need
of haste. He told me that immediate peril
threatened my father, and that we must
devise some means of averting it. I

‘*] agreed to meet him at the hour desig-
met before—under the tall tree on the
northern end of the island.

_ **We met there, and he urged upon me
more strongly than ever the. necessity of
desperate means.

_** Tf you go away with me,’ he said, ‘and
leave some clew for him, he will certainly
That is something that the villains

and it will upset their plans.’

‘‘While we were earnestly discussing my
father’s welfare, | heard a noise of footsteps
Almost immediately a
man appeared, dimly to be seen in the dense
shadow of the big tree.

“Mr. Deming thought at first that it was
He pushed me back so that the
big tree’s trunk was between me and the
intruder.

‘‘The man adyanced directly toward the,

 

| along.

back to the house.
‘Hot words followed. Mr.
temper overcame his discretion.

Deming’s
He sprang

| upon the fellow.

‘“Knowing Deming’s great strength, I had
little fear for the result, though the scene
was one to inspire terror in any woman. '‘l'o
my surprise, the stranger hurled my pro
tector back from him with
that Mr. Deming nearly fell to the ground.

‘He sprang up, and [ saw him draw a re-
volver from his pocket. I knew that he had
one. I, too, had armed myself, for I knew
that there were perils on this island that
could not be paltered with.

‘‘The stranger sprang forward at sight of
the revolver. I saw Mr. Deming’s arm
struck upward. The revolver went off with
a stunning report. Then the man wrenched
it from Mr. Deming’s hand and hurled it
far off in the woods.

‘Drawing my own weapon, I sprang for-
ward to Mr. Deming’s assistance, for
thought I saw a weapon in the other man’s
hand.

‘¢My foot tripped upon a root of the tree,
and I fell, striking my head with such force
as to stun me.

‘¢But at the instant of my fall I saw an-
other flash, and heard another report.

‘‘Then there was a confused sound of
voices in my ears. It lasted but a few
seconds. Then I felt myself being borne
Consciousness came back tome, I
was being carried in Mr. Deming’s arms.

‘¢ ‘Where is he?’ I cried.

‘¢*He has run away,’ was the reply.
‘Do you not remember?’

‘- ‘T remember nothing,’ said I, ‘except |
2 >

that I fell just as the second shot was fired.’

‘* ‘The second shot,’ he repeated.

‘« ¢Ves,’ said I, ‘there were two. Are you
wounded?’

‘+ ‘7 am burt a little,’ he said, but it is of
no consequence. It was a desperate strug-
xle.’

‘*T heard voices calling in the woods.

‘< ‘We must dodge those fellows,’ said Mr.
Deming. ‘They must not know of our meet-
ing. Promise me that you will keep it
secret.’

‘‘T promised. He carried me to a point
close to the house where the trees come
nearest. Then I was able to walk unassisted.

‘‘He left me, saying that it would be
better for him not to be seen. I returned to
the house. My conduct atter that will now
be clear to you.

‘*As soon as Mr. Deming learned the facts
about the murder of my father, the nature
of the crime became clear to him, and he
confided in me.

‘‘Tf was evident that our assailant who
had fled when he saw me fall, had run upon
my father in the woods, and had been fired
upon by him. ;

‘*He had returned the fire, and had killed
my father. When you appeared upon the
scene, Mr. Deming believed you to be the
man. He told me so, but warned me not to
tell, as he believed that you would reappear,
if you thought yourself unrecognized.

‘‘Mr. Deming had made his plans to
secure you before you could leave the house,
and he would have done so but for the
wound which he received.”’

‘*Why did he delay?’’ asked Jack.

‘* At first he was not sure of you.’’

‘*No, I should think not. Laura, this is an
extraordinary story. It is full of contradic-
tions, and it leaves many facts unexplained.
For instapee, your revolver had an empty

‘chamber.’’

‘‘Mr. Deming says that it flew out of my
hands and was discharged. I did not know
it. He found it on the ground, and put it
right back into my pocket.’’

‘‘Tt seems strange that you did not hear
it go off.”’

‘‘The report, Mr. Deming says, was ex-
actly simultaneous with a shot fired by his
adversary. Hedid not at first know that
two shots had been fired together, but my
pistol was smoking when he found it.’?

have them questioned in such a way, by one |
who could have no right to do so, was|

such violence |

‘swoon.

NEWS.

| . : 2 ;
| empty, including one in my pistol, and one

in that found by Freeman, which must have
been Deming’s that his antagonist threw
| away.
‘*The five shots now stand thus:
‘*Wirst—Mr. Deming’s revolver discharged
in the air while he struggled with his as-
sailant.
| **Second—The assailant’s, fired at Deming,
|missing him, and possibly touching you on
the forehead. The report blended with that
of your revolver, accidentally discharged.
| ‘*Third—Your father’s, mysteriously re-
| sulting in his own death. The revolver may
| have been snatched from his hand by the
/man who had fled from Deming.
‘¢Fourth—That same mysterious
shot at me, touching my coat.
‘* Rifth—My shot at him, wounding him in
the left side.
| ‘*The clews lead back to the same place at
last. They lead to Jack of Diamonds.’’
(TO BE CONTINUED.)

 

 

man’s

<> 8 em
{This Story will not be Published in Book-Form. }

PEARLESS AND TRUE:

OR,

| Frank Forrester’s Motto Through Life,

——+--—

HENRY HARRISON HAINES,

Author of “Upright and Honest,” ete.

BY

-
(“FEARLESS AND TRUE’ was commenced ip No,
| 284. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.)

 

CHAPTER XXII.

THE TELEGRAPH,
KA), FTER calling ‘‘B’’ for a dozen times,
YAN Frank rapped out the telegraphic

3 ~ characters ‘‘N, Y,’’ which is just
wh a7.\) Z 7 ae +o
“VS what he would have done if he had
been in one room and was ‘‘calling up’’ Ida
in the next room.

Then he waited.

A moment later there was a faint reply,
which only the death-like stillness permitted
the boy to hear.

SOM saamee ts

That was the answer, and it was just the
answer that Ida had returned hundreds of
times in response to Frank’s ‘‘calling.’’

‘*It must be Ida!’’? he exclaimed, and then
began rapping again on the wall, the replies
coming so feebly as to make him feel that his
correspondent was hardly equal to the task.

‘Is that you, R, A?’’ he rapped out.

‘here was a long pause.

‘*Poor girl!’? muttered Frank, ‘‘perhaps
she has fainted.’’

A moment later came back the delicate re-
ply:
‘¢Yes, Jam R, A. Who are you?’

ce V,??

‘¢Are you a prisoner?’’

6s Yes,??

‘*So am I,??

‘‘How long have you been in there?’’

‘*T don’t know.”?

‘‘It cannot be very long, for I saw youa
short time ago.’’

‘* How short?’’

‘¢‘Well, I don’t think it was more than
half an hour ago.”’

‘You are mistaken.’’

‘‘J’m sure I’m not. You didn’t know
about it because you were unconscious.”’

‘“‘] didn’t know that, but my head has
been confused, and you may be right. What
are you imprisoned for???’

‘‘ Because I tried to rescue you.’’

‘‘How did you know——”’

And then the sounds ceased.

Frank waited a moment and then rapped
Cups Ga.

In telegraphing, these letters mean ‘‘Go
ahead,’ or ‘‘Continue.”’ \

There was no response.

‘‘'The strain was too much for her,’’ sadly
said the boy. ‘‘She is probably lying ina
The villains! to lock that sweet girl
up in a safe until her life was all but gone
in that poisoned air!’’

He waited for some time, and then again
rapped on the wall.

No response.

‘¢Her delicate fists were not made for such
work as pounding on hard walls,’’? muttered
Frank.

Then he sat down and thought over the
very unpleasant situation.

Jscape seemed impossible, and yet, at the
age of sixteen, a boy does not usually give
way to despair.

He decided to once more make the tour of
the cell and search for a door.

Slowly, feeling over every inch of surface
with the tips of his fingers, Frank moved
about the narrow confines of his prison.

Suddenly he paused.

His hand had detected an unevenness in
the surface.

Slowly and carefully he moved his fingers.

It was with a feeling of delight that. he
was able to map out the outlines of an ex-
tremely close-fitting door, which his first
search had failed to detect.

  

bottom of the door and the floor of the cell
not meeting by the eighth of an inch.

This was not much, to be sure, but it held
a gleam of hope for Frank.

If he could only find something that could
be inserted beneath the door, his unusual
strength might help him out of his fix.

Down he went on his hands and knees, and
began to creep slowly back and forth, trav-
eling from side to side of the cell.

The floor of his prison felt like the sides,
and the boy was sure that he was in a sort
of metal box. It was as though a huge tin
or zinc box had been converted into a prison
cell.

Suddenly one of his hands encountered
something movable.

Frank grasped it, and passed his hands
over it.

He recognized what it was in a moment.

It was a brace and bit—not the kind that
carpenters use, but one of those strongly con-
structed ones with diamond-headed drills
used by workers in sheet metal.

It had probably been employed in work
about the metal cell, and, intentionally or
otherwise, left by the workman.

Frank passed his hand carefully over the
connecting portions and found them very
secure.

The head of the drill was sharp.

From end to end the tool was nearly three
feet in length.

Back to the door crept Frank, found the
slight crevice beneath it, inserted the point
of the drill, drove it in slowly but surely
with taps from the heel of his boot, and then
seized the other end of the tool with his
strong hands, his back bent. #

He felt positive that the solid steel drill
could not be snapped by his strength, so,
with a slowly increasing effort, he exerted
himself to the utmost to straighten up.

Creak, creak, creak, and then a sudden
snap, and Frank felt something give way.

He stood erect.

A faint light stole in upon him.

The door was partly open.

Frank stepped forth from his cell, squeez-
ing through an opening that had been caused
by a lower hinge yielding to the immense
leverage.

He found himself in a small room, or, to
be more correct, in asmail portion of a large
room, the balance of the apartment being
taken up by the great metallic box from
which he had so fortunately made his escape.

The entire width of the room, which was
about eight feet, was occupied by the metal
box, which reached from the floor to the
ceiling. From the front of the big box to the
end of the room there was a clear space
about. six feet in extent.

This space was entirely bare, the only ob-
ject that relieved the utter blank of the ceil-
ing and walls being a hanging gas branch
with a single burner. The gas was alight, but
turned down low,

An exceedingly narrow and close-fitting
door at one side of the room, so narrow and

escape the casual glance, finished the descrip-
tion of this remarkable prison room.

Frank turned up the gas, and then wheeled
about and examined the big sheet metal box,
from one-half of which he had just escaped.

The big box was divided longitudinally,
thus making two long, narrow cells.

Frank found the door-way of the other
cell and tapped on it.

There was no reply.

‘*Ida, Ida,’’ he called, putting his lips
very close to a small key-hole that appeared
about three feet from the floor.

He heard no response.

‘*Still unconscious, poor girl!’’ he said,
and then bent down and forcibly inserted
the sharp-headed drill beneath the door.

He drove it under with his foot, and was
just about to bend down and seize the free
end, when he suddenly heard a noise trom
without.

lt was that peculiar sound which we can
all recognize at once when a key is inserted
in a lock and does not go in smoothly.

Somebody was coming) into the peculiar
prison room.

It was more than likely that it was the
keeper of the prison, the person who held
the keys to the metallic jail.

Frank thought and acted with lightning-
like celerity.

He made a cat-like leap forward.

With a quick but careful movement, he
turned down the gas until it glimmered like
a mere point of flame in the darkness.

Then he flattened himself up against the
wall, so that when the door was opened and
the person from without came into the room,
there would be no doubt that his first step
would carry him beyond the boy.

‘‘And when 1 can leap upon a man from
the rear, 1’ll engage to tackle anything short
of a giant,’’ thought Frank.

He waited breathlessly.

The door opened.

He heard a step.

‘*Well, well, what’s the matter with the
gas? I left a much larger light than that.
If it had gone down much more, it would
have gone out altogether. There must be
something wrong with the meter.’’

The voice was slightly familiar to Frank.
A moment later the speaker very naturally

 

 

‘‘That clears up one point at least in the
mystery,’’? Said Jack.

He felt over the surface of the cell at the

‘‘Wive shots were | bottom of the door-way and satisfied himself
tree, and Mr. Deming stepped forward to heard, and six cartridge shells were found that there was a very slight space there, the

fell into the trap which clever Frank ha
prepared for him by turning down the gas
so low.

    
          

 

 

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He strode forward and turned the gas on |

to a full flame.

This brought him in full view of the eager
young athlete, crouching like an impatient
young tiger against the wall.

With one splendid leap, Frank cleared the
space between him and the new-comer,
caught the unsuspecting man by the throat,
lifted him fairly from the floor, caught him
about the body with his disengaged arm, and
placed him quickly but quietly upon the
floor, doing it all with less noise than the fel-
low had made entering the prison room.

Then, still keeping his firm grasp on the
man’s throat, Frank sat down upon his
chest, and for the first time obtained a look
at his face.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE OCCUPANT OF THE ADJOINING CELL.

OU?”’ cried Frank.

~ upon.

For, strangely enough, it was Tom
Johnson who had again been ‘neatly
‘*downed’’ by our active hero.

The close-fitting door, as though drawn by
an external spring, had reclosed after the
man’s entrance into the room, so the boy
was not afraid to speak in low tones, but he
warned Johnson:

‘‘Not one word the least bit louder than
you have spoken,’’ he said, ‘for Ill shut
down in the manner you have already had a
sample of, Mr. Johnson.’’

‘‘] understand,’’ gasped the other, for
Frank, his mind affected by the words he
had uttered, had unconsciously tightened
his grip. f

When Frank’s hold relaxed somewhat the
prostrate man turned his head just a trifle
sidewise and stole a quick glance at the
prison.

‘*Why, how did you——’

And then he paused, lost in wonder that
Frank should have effected his escape from
the metallic prison.

‘‘Oh, I managed to get out by a great deal
of hard work,’’ spoke up the boy, under-
standing what was passing in the fellow’s
mind, ‘‘but I don’t intend to work so hard
to release the girl.”’

Tom Johnson made no response to this.

‘*Now, sir,’’ said Frank, ‘‘you know that
I talk business all the time.

‘I’ve several questions to ask you, and I
want prompt, truthful answers.

‘*You know the penalty for lying!

‘*Now let me go back a short time.

‘*You managed to work yourself along to
the stair-way and were going down nicely
when you looked up and caught sight of me,
and in your fright you missed your hold
with your heels, tumbled down the balance
of the flight, knocked your head against a
post, and landed with a crash on the floor
below, insensible.

‘‘The noise aroused the attention of two
men, who came rushing up the stairs and
found you bound and gagged. I hurled down
a desk upon them and knocked them sense-
less.’?

Frank paused, gazed down menacingly
into the eyes of the prostrate man, and
asked :

‘*Who were those men?’’

‘*Basil Hope and a friend of his.’’

‘*The name of the friend?’’

“*T really don’t know.’’

‘““Do you know that I was knocked down
in the parlor hall?’’

‘¢VYes,?

‘*Who knocked me down?”’

“A young fellow who was visiting Basil
Hope.’’

‘*His name?”’

‘*Fielder.’’

‘George Fielder?’’

‘‘T believe his first name’s George.’’

So George Fielder had prevented him from
making his escape with the unconscious Ida!
This knowledge galled Frank, and it made
him wrathful to think that the pretty girl,
although insensible, should have fallen into
the clutches of the dishonest clerk. But how
had Fielder overcome him? He could not
restrain his desire to ask the question of
Johnson.

‘*What did he knock me down with?’’

‘¢A poker, I think.’’

Frank felt relieved. To be knocked down
with a poker was not so humiliating to the
assistant instructor of the Oriental Athletic
Club.

‘‘How long ago was I thrown into that
metal box?’?

‘¢ About an hour ago.’’

 

‘*It seemed ages. In what pocket bave you |

the key tothe other cell door?’?’

‘“‘How did you know that there was an-
other cell?’? asked Tom Johnson, in very
great surprise. A

‘*Because I’ve been talking to the other
prisoner,’’ responded Frank. ‘‘Come, where
Is the key?’’

‘‘In my vest pocket.’?

‘¢Which side?’’

‘‘Right,”’

‘“‘Then draw it out carefully and lay it on

the floor, and don’t makea suspicious move-

ment unless you want me to choke the breath
out of you.”’

Johnson slowly and apprehensively drew
forth a key from his right-hand vest pocket,
and placed it on the floor.

‘*You?’? exclaimed the man he sat |

There was a little heap of rubbish in one
corner of the room, a few feet from the boy’s
hand, and amid it Frank thought he de-
tected some heavy string.

‘‘Don’t attempt to get up, for I’ll surely
knock you down again,’’ he said to Johnson,
and then he moved away to the rubbish heap,
keeping one eye on his foe.

He found a heavy, strong cord, fully eight
feet in length, among the rubbish, and with
this he bound Johnson’s arms and legs.

‘*7’ll not gag you,’’ he said to the help-
less man, ‘‘but if you make any noise I’ll
promise to silence you.’’

He shoved him out of the way with his
foot, picked up the key from the floor, and
inserted it in the lock of the closed prison
door.

It turned easily.

It occurred to Frank at that moment that
lida Clare might now be conscious, and that
his appearance suddenly and unexpectedly
might shock her nerves; already terribly
strained, so, before he opened the door, he
tapped loadly on it and called out:

‘*Tda, Ida, it is 1, Frank.’’

Then he threw open the door.

The light from the blazing gas-jet lit up
the cell.

At the far end of it, and huddled close to |

the wall that bisected the metal prison,
Frank caught sight of a form lying on the
floor,

‘¢Poor girl!’? he muttered, ‘‘she exhausted
herself in that telegraphic work. But Ill
soon have her out of this.’’

He strode into the cell and bent over the
motionless form.

Then he uttered a cry of surprise.

Instead of seeing Ida Clare there, as he
had confidently expected, he found him-
sel {bending over the motionless form of a
man.

So confident had Frank Forrester been of
finding Ida Clare in that cell, that when he
found himself gazing down upon a man, he
could hardly credit the evidence of his own
eyes.

He was dazed, speechless.

Could it be possible that in the space of
time that elapsed between the cessation of
the telegraphic conversation and Frank’s
escape from the metal box, Ida Clare had
been removed and this man put in her
place?

‘*No, it is impossible,’’ thought Frank, his
perplexed gaze yet riveted upon the man at
his feet. ‘‘l am sure that the exchange could
not. have been made so silently as not to
break the perfect stillness that reigned.’’

The mystery was so absorbing that the
boy stood there in deep thought, pondering
in an intense manner.

A little noise outside the cell aroused him
to a realization of bis surroundings.

He looked out through the open door and
saw Tom Johnson struggling furiously with
his bonds.

Frank darted forward, the heavy brace
and bit in one hand.

He raised it menacingly over Johnson’s
head, and the latter subsided.

‘“*Don’t,’’ he begged.

‘Then keep quiet,’? advised Frank. ‘‘I’m
in a bad humor, and I may crack you over
the head to relieve my feelings.’’

Then he darted back into the cell, picked
the man up from the floor, and brought him
out under the gas-light.

Frank laid him on the floor, and then took
a long look at him.

He saw a man of medium height, with un-
usually broad shoulders and the general evi-
dence of a powerful frame. He looked to be
between fifty and sixty years of age, if one
might judge from his gray hair and beard,
both very long.

He was clad in an ill-fitting suit that was

|a mass of rags, and his emaciation was such

that he looked little better than a skeleton.

White, motionless, with only a fluttering
respiration to show that he was alive, the
unknown man lay at the feet of the power-
ful boy.

The latter turned to Johnson,

‘*How long ago did they put him in that
cell?’’ he asked.

“‘T don’t know,’’ growled Johnson.

‘*Look out,’? warningly said Frank.

“‘l’m telling you the truth. It was long
before I came.’’

‘Before you came into the house, you
mean?’?

UY ea,

‘¢And how long is that?’’

‘‘Oh, a year or more.’’

Suddenly, with dazzling, perplexing quick-
ness, with irresistible force, a conviction
flashed through Frank’s brain.

He had given Ida Clare the ‘‘call’’ of
‘*B’? because it had formerly been used by
his father, and he had also given her the
‘‘sine’’? of ‘‘R, A,’’ because his father had
used that same ‘‘sine.’’

Now he understood why the unseen tele-
grapher of the adjoining cell had responded
to the ‘‘call’’ of ‘‘B,’? and had answered
when Frank rapped out the inquiry about
the other’s ‘‘sine:”’ ,

SOY 8, Feary ST Aes P-4?

. Yes, the convietion was irresistible, and
with the warm tears of filial affection
streaming down his face, Frank Forrester
fell upon his’ knees beside the unconscious
man and sobbed aloud:

 

‘*Oh, thank God! thank God! it is my fa-
ther !’’

GOOD NEWS.

  

CHAPTER XXIV.
‘*‘you’VE GOT HIM.’?

ES, there could be no doubt about the

 

’ be Mark Forrester, the man officially
recorded as ‘‘dead’’ by the police.

a,
Frank’s father, it was true, was a man of

scarcely more than forty, smooth shaven,
except for a rather luxuriant mustache, and
always wearing short, dark hair, while this
man was gray, long-haired, and _ long-

forty, but the shrewd boy quickly conject-
ured the possible results and changes of a

tity of the prisoner.

Then, too, he had his mother’s suspicions,
and also the overheard conversation between
Markham and Hope to connect with the
present evidence, and felt that there was lit-
tle doubt that his long-lost parent lay before
him.

‘(Say

In his intense absorption Frank had al-

19?

| ter spoke up Frank came very near to start
ing with surprise.

‘*Well?’? he asked, wiping the warm tears
from his face.

‘‘Ts that your father?’’

‘‘T feel sure that it is.’

‘*What’s your name?’?

‘*Wrank Forrester.’’

‘*Correct, then.’’

‘‘What do you mean???

‘*That’s another*Forrester, and I think his
first name is Mark.”’

The boy regarded him gratefully.

‘*God bless you for those words, Johnson,’’
he said.

‘*Oh, I’m not the worst fellow in the world,
I assure you,’’ remarked Johnson.

‘“‘T don’t think you are,’’ returned the
boy.

‘*TIn fact,’’? mournfully continued the other,
‘*1’m more of a tool than an accomplice in
this house.’?’

‘*You haven’t got a bad face,’’ admitted
Frank.

bad heart, either,’’ asserted Johnson. ‘‘ You
find me here employéd in peculiar and rather
rascally work, but it’s because I can’t help
myself.’’

‘*T don’t understand you,’’ said Frank.
**'You know good from evil, don’t you?”’

ce Yes. ?

‘*Well, nobody is obliged to do evil if they
don’t want to.”’ |

‘*That’s all right enough for a story from
the Sunday school,’’ remarked Jobnson,
with a shake of his head, ‘‘but I tell you

self in a box, more through being weak and

deal when the orders ¢éome from a man that
can clap you into jail.’’
‘‘Oh, is that your case?’?’

do with him?”’

resolute reply.
‘‘What would the other people be doing
while you were, removing him?’’

ing out my purpose if they could.’’

and you come next to lightning in your
movements, but when it’s a question of one

hands full, I don’t see how he can hope for
success.”’ \

logical and sensible, but he only said:
‘*T must do the best I can.’’
‘‘Why not let me help you?’’ suggested
Johnson. '
Frank looked keenly at him.

though prompted by Frank’s Idok.

fuse.

not madea great effort to throw off my yoke.

‘*Now you have cleverly managed to lay
bare some villainy on the partof Basil Hope,
and if you manage to get your father out of
here you will probably cause the arrest of
Hope.

‘*This would rid me of the man who holds
me under his thumb. You would have a
charge against him, and a serious one, too,
and [ could help you and help myself by be-
coming a witness for the State.

‘‘Now I’m going to make you a very
strange proposition.

‘*Leave me here with your father.

‘*Make your way out of the house the same
as you got in, by the roof, and then get help,
come back here, and raid the place.’’

This sounded like sensible advice.

Frank thought it over.

His father lay before him, unconscious,
and the boy felt that it would, indeed, be a
most perilous task to endeavor to take him
out of the house.

It was but natural] to suppose that all the

the attempted rescue of Ida Clare.

 

Aha! Ida Clare! What of her?
He turned to Johnson.

correctness of the surmise. This must |

bearded, and looked much nearer sixty than |

long and cruel imprisonment, and was not |
shaken in his conviction regarding the iden-

|most forgotten Johnson, and when the lat- ,

‘‘And I don’t think I’ve got such a very |

that when you’ve been foolish and got your- |

silly than from being sinful, you’ll doa good |

‘Yes, it is. Now, let us stop talking of |
my affairs and talk about yours. You’ve dis- | well-trained athlete to draw himself up with
covered your father. What are you going to | his hands, and in a moment he stood on the

‘‘Take him out of this house,’’ was the |

‘Well, you’re a powerful boy, I’ll admit, |

boy against three men, and the boy with his |

‘*Now you listen to me,’’ said Johnson, as | i
‘*AsI/said the girl, and down stairs clattered the
told you a moment ago, I do some dirty | boy, as though in search of his missing head-
work because I’m told to and dare not re- | covering.

4647

   

{
| **When I was struck down,’’ he said, ‘‘]
} had the girl in my arms. What has become
| of her???
| ‘*T don’t know.”
| ‘*You didn’t see her?’’
| ‘‘No. I’m rather disposed to believe that
she is detained in one of the rooms on the
| first floor at the rear of the house.’’
The boy hardly knew what to do first.
| He felt like making a search and a fight
for pretty lda Clare, but there was danger
to his father in delay, and he concluded to
act at once.
‘*f think I’l] take your advice,’’ he said to
| Jobnson, ‘‘and go for help,’’

‘*It’s the best thing you can do.”’

‘*Well, I’m off, then. It is useless for me
to revive my father, for he would be only
|more cruelly aware of his sufferings. He
| might better remain in his present condition
| until he can have medical care and nursing.”’

‘‘Now,’’? spoke up Jobnson, ‘‘you let me
be just as Iam, tied, and put something in
my mouth to make it appear that I’m
gagged, because Hope might come in here
during your absence and find me.’’

**And then what?’’

‘Then I’d tell him that you had liberated
|the old man under the supposition that it
|was the girl, and had then gone away, I
would say nothing about you identifying
your father. Then Hope would not suspect
me, would only guard against you, in fact,
and I would be your spy in the enemy’s
camp.’’

‘*Good enough,’’ commented Frank, and
thereupon gagged Johnson in an easy and
painless manner.

Then, with a regretful look at his father,
the boy left the prison room, locking the
door and putting the key into his pocket.

He passed through tbe adjoining room,
opened the door softly, and saw that the hall
was deserted, and then looked up at the
roof.

Fortune favored him.

Nobody had replaced the cover, and when
he stepped forward he could see the blue sky
above.

Frank leaped upon the baluster rail, and
there balanced himself.

The edges of the opening were still between
four and five feet above him, and Frank felt
that he could not afford to miss catching a
hold on the sides at the first leap, for no
matter how lightly he might fall back into
the hall-way, the noise might be sufficient to
attract the attention of those on guard on
| the floors below. »
| So, feeling that be must succeed at the first

attempt, Frank Forrester crouched like a
|cat, gathering all his well-trained muscles
together for one mighty and triumphant
| effort.

| Up he leaped with all his strength, and as
he arose in the air he extended his hands
| above his head for a hold.

His immense leap carried his hands even a
;few inches above the sides of the opening,
|and in an instant the steel-like fingers were
| clutching the woodwork.

Then it was but asimple matter for the

 

}
}

roof.

By the looks of the sun, Frank judged that
it was about five o’clock in the afternoon,
and he was much pleased to see that the
|men he had noted on the roof of the house

‘*They would be preventing me from carry- | be had utilized in his ascent from the street

| were still working.
He coolly walked across the roofs to where —
they were, and passed down the ladder to
the top floor of the house.
Frank had lost his hat during his advent-
jures in Basil Hope’s house, and was now
bareheaded. Otherwise, except for being

All this, Frank was forced to admit, was | dusty and dirty, there was no especial change

| in his condition.

|. He met’ the servant girl who admitted

| him, and as he caught sight of her He called —

|out, gayly: 38

; ‘*Did my hat fall in front of the house???’
‘*t didn’t see it, but maybe it’s there,’’

| When he reached the street he paused for

|

|
|
}

|

|

|

‘*Furthermore, I’m easy going, and have | a moment’s reflection.

As he did so, a strong hand grasped his —
arm, and a gruff voice shouted:
‘*You’ve got him!’’
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——___ +e > -—_—.
MISUNDERSTOOD.

Shortly after Dan Hogan had joined the
army, bis regiment was one day marching
by the side of a stream. Dan was far from —
being a coward, but he had no particular
liking for water. A few moments’ rest was |
allowed, and then the order came to
‘‘March!’’? Dan, however, had got a little
out of the ranks, and the officer shouted,

|**No. 32, fall in.??

Dan at once recognized his number, and,
taking a look at the rushing stream, he
turned to his superior, exclaiming: :

‘« Arrah, now, is it joking ye are, major?”’

——_ s+ @¢- > -——_—_——__ . M

Schoolmaster (entering boys’ dormitory)—

ordinary precautions were now doubled since | ‘‘What are you doing out of bed this time of —

might, Murphy?”’
Murphy—‘‘Oh, sorr, I got out of bed

a
tuck myself in.’’ ae

    

 
   
   

 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
   
 
  
  
   
   
  
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
  
 
  
   
  
   
   
 
 
  
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
 
  
   
    
  
  
   
    
  
    
   
    
  
    
   
  
  
   
    
    
   
     
   
   
         
       
     
         
       
       
           
       
  

  
bs

‘ bargain.’’.

 

 

 

 

Goop

NEWS.

 

 

ISSUED WEEKLY.

 

 

 

NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 30, 1895.

 

Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers:

(POSTAGE I REE.)

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Contents of this Number.
SERIAL STORIES.
“Don Kirk’s Mine,” by Harry Danger-
field.
“Overhead Steve,” by Emerson Bell.

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

“Fearless and True,” by Henry Harrison
Haines.

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

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

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

“Dot Poy Hans,” by ‘‘Peter.”

SHORT STORIES,

“The Young Captive Chief,” by J. L.
Adams.

REGULAR DEPARTMENT'S.

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

‘How to Do 'Lhings,” by David Parks.

‘Our Stamp Album.”

“Mail Bag,” ‘xchange
“Club Notices,” etc.

Departinent,”

 

 

WEEK AFTER NEXT.

o-- —

 

A splendid new historical story by
ALFRED ARMITAGE,
depicting life in the greenwood with those
famous outlaws, Robin Hood and his

Merry Men.

This, in our opinion, is one of the very
best stories Mr. Armitage has ever written.
Tt is full of thrilling episodes, besides con-

taining lots of fun. You can’t afford to

miss forming the acquaintance of that jolly

old reprobate, Friar Tuck,
a 8
ILL-ADVISED PHILOSOPHY.

‘*Little boy,’’ said the young man on the
rear saddle of the tandem, ‘‘if you’ll never
sing out ‘On a bicycle built for two,’ when
you see one of these machines again, I'll
give you a pockful of candy.’’

“Plltake it,’’ replied the boy. ‘‘It’sa

‘*Here it is. Come and get it.’’

The reader will be pained to learn that
the next time that tandem machine made its
appearance in that neighborhood, it was
greeted by thirty or forty boys, who sang
with great enthusiasm a song about a
bicycle built for two.

: ——_-_~+-0-» -

‘‘Name twelve animals of the Polar re-
gions,’’ said the professor.

And the despairing student wrote:

 

LETTER “O° CONTEST

——+——

The number of “Os” which appeared in
the first column of the second page of the
ten issues numbered 279, 280, 281, 282, 283,
284, 285, 286, 287, and 288 was

Aa f=

LIST OF PRIZE WINNERS

cubiasiciainppacencne

FIRST PRIZE—BICYCLE.
Ray S. Pitkin, 5722 State street, Chicago,

Illinois. Answer mailed August 23.

SECOND PRIZE—GOLD WATCH.
Charles Van, corner Main and Oil streets,
mailed Au-

Muncie, Indiana. Answer

GOLD! GOLD! GOLD
A Wonderful Offer!

>

The Greatest Ever Made by Any
Boys’ Paper!

GUESS THE ENDING OF THE STORY,

THE

JACK OF DIAMONDS,

And Win a Big Amount of Money!

——— ee

“The Jack of Diamonds” is a splen-
did detective story, to write which the

 

gust 26.
THIRD PRIZE—SILVER WATCH.
Albert Thomas, 80 Michigan avenue, De-

Answer mailed Septem-

troit, Michigan.

| line of. work.

publishers of Goop News have engaged
one of the most eminent authors in that

This great story will be printed in
Goop News in twelve installments, be-

 

ber 1.
All three of the above guessed the exact |

number,

TWENTY PRINTING OUTFITS.

With figures guessed and dates of mail-
ing.

Miss Bertha C. Meyers, 264 Madison
avenue, Dixon, Illinois. 2757. Septem-
ber 14.

Ernest McGill, Almonte, Ontario, Canada.
2757. September 14.

Alfred Strathdee, Lee Park, Nebraska.
2757. September 16.

H. L. Coster, 82 South Halstead street,
2757. September 19.

2757.

Chicago, Illinois.

E. A. Talpey, York Beach, Maine.
September 20.

Edwin §S. Roberts, Danville, Pennsyl-
vania. 2757. September 23.

H. N. Jennings, Middletown Spa, Rut-
land County, Vermont. 2757, Septem-
ber 24. ;

Emil Peter, Highland, Illinois. 2757.
October 1, ;
Stephen Ruff, 2832 Pennsylvania avenue,
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. 2757. Octo-
ber 7.

J. O’Brien, 1811 Farrell street, San Fran-
cisco, California. 2757. October 10.
W. L. Bretschneider, Orange,
2758. September 7.

S. C. Lindsey, Mount Pleasant, Pennsyl-
2756.
John R. Hampson, Kipple, Blair County,
2756. September 9.

John O’Connor, 293 Aspenwold avenue,
Elkhardt, Indiana. 2756. September 10.

Texas.

vania. September 8.

Pennsylvania.

M. A. Howell, Salineville, Ohio. 2758.
September 11.
W. R. Vann, Auburn, Indiana, 2756.

September 11.

Matt. Walenz, 1318 Leavenworth street,
Omaha, Nebraska, 2756. September 21.
D. B. Neihardt, Seward, Nebraska. 2756.
September 23.

George A. Peck, 37 Union street. Leo-
minster, Massachusetts. 2758. Septem-
ber 23.

F. Higgins, 402 East 24th street, New

| ginning with No. 282, issued on Septem-

ber 14. The eleventh installment will ap-
pear in No. 292, issued November 23,
and then the readers of Goop News will
have three weeks in which to make
their guesses as to the solution of the
mystery, which will be revealed in the
final installment, printed in No. 255.
For the first received explanation of
the last installment, which is correct
and most complete, Goop’ News will

$100. $100.

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

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Now read, and guess what will be in

the last installment of

THE JACK OF DIAMONDS.

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

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

The time of mailing the guess will be
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No one, except the author, not even
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oe

NOW, BOYS!

READ THIS MARVELOUS sToRY!

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For further information, address
Prize Story,

 

 

‘*Six seals and six Polar bears.’’

York city. 2756. September 23.

 

2

RHORT TALKS —=—
SHORT PALKS —

wy
‘With Que }

EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL,

y
rt

—--+

 

[. O. You, Chicago, Tl., writes: ‘‘I have read
your paper, and especially your ‘Short Talks,’
and would like you to tell me through your
columns bow a person can get a legal document
from the Patent Office, at Washington, D. C.,
giving one year’s time for a person to complete
his ideas, and if this paper cannot be had, how
I can get wy idea patented without the aid of
a lawyer, and the best way to do it. I also
want to know what requirements have to be
fulfilled.”

Applications for a patent must be made in
writing to the Commissioner of Patents. The
applicant must also file in the Patent Office
a written description of the same, and of the
manner and process of making, construct-
ing, compounding, and using it, in such full,
clear, concise, and exact terms as to enable
any person skilled in the art or science to
which it appertains, or with which it is most
nearly connected, to make, construct, com-
pound, and use the same; and in case of a
machine, he must explain the principle
thereof, and the best mode in which he has
contemplated applying that principle, so as
to distinguish it from other inventions, and
particularly point out and distinctly claim
the part, improvement, or combination
which he claims as his invention or discov-
ery. The specification and claim must be
signed by the inventor and attested by two
witnesses.

When the nature of the case admits of
drawings, the applicant must furnish a draw-
ing of the required size, signed by the in-
ventor or his attorney in fact, and attested
by two witnesses, to be filed in the Patent
Office.

The applicant shall make oath that he
verily believes himself to be the original and
first inventor or discoverer of the art, ma-
chine, manufacture, composition, or im-
provement for which he solicits a patent;
that he does not know and does not believe
that the same was ever before known or
used, and shall state of what country he is
a citizen. Such oath may be made before
any person within the United States author-
ized by law to administer oaths.

On the filing of such application and the
payment of the fees required by law, if, on
such examination, it appears that the claim-
ant is justly entitled to a patent under the
law, and that the same is sufficiently useful
and important, the commissioner will issue
a patent therefor,

A caveat, under the patent law, is a no-
tice given to the office of the caveator’s
claim as inventor, in order to prevent the
grant of a patent to another for thesame al-
leged invention upon an application filed
during the life of a caveat without notice to
the caveator.

Any citizen of the United States who has
made a new invention or discovery, and de-
sires further time to mature the same, may,
on payment of a fee of ten dollars, file in the
Patent Office a caveat setting forth the ob-
ject and the distinguishing characteristics of
the invention, and praying protection of his
right until he shall have matured his inven-
tion. Such caveat shall be filed in the confi-
dential archives of the office and preserved
in secrecy, and shall be operative for the
term of one year from the filing thereof.
The caveat must comprise a specification,
oath, and, when the nature of the case ad-
mits of it, a drawing, and, like the applica-
tion, must be limited to a single invention or
improvement.

Fees must be paid in advance, and are as
follows: On filing each original application
for a patent, $15; on issuing each original
patent, $20. In design cases: For three years
and six months, $10; for seven years, $15;
for fourteen years, $30. On filing each
caveat, $10; on every application for the re-
issue of a patent, $30: on filing each dis-
claimer, $10; for certified copies of patents
and other papers in manuscript, ten cents
per hundred words; for certified copies of
printed patents, eighty-five cents; for re-
cording every assignment, agreement, power
of attorney, or other paper, of three hundred
words or under, $1; of over three hundred
and under one thousand words, $2; of over
one thousand words, $3; for copies of draw-
ings, the reasonable cost of making them.

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

—___—_<»— 4 _____
LOOKING FORWARD.

A little fellow of five years fell down and
cut his lip so badly that a doctor had to be
summoned to sew up the wound.

In her distress the mother could not re-
frain from saying:

‘*Oh, doctor, I fear it will leave a dis-
figuring scar.’

Tommy looked up into her tearful face,
and said:

 

Care Goop News,
New York City.

‘‘Never mind, mamma, my mustache will
cover it.’’

 

 

   

Auth

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GOooDnp

NEWS.

 

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

OVERHEAD STEVE;

THE WilaarD OE ede ONY Ub eee

BY EMERSON N BELL,

Author of “In the Heart of the Earth,” “The Electric

(“OVERHEAD STEVE” was commenced in No. 289.

sack numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER IX.

A DARING ESCAPE.

    
 

O say that Overhead Steve was aston-
ished to find himself thus unexpectedly
confronted by the scar-faced robber
would be stating the fact very mildly.
He was dumfounded, and for the instant
could not move or speak.

Then, like a flash of lightning, the truth
burst through his brain. This man in the
Office, Mr. Albert E. 8S. Smeed, was in
league with the men who had robbed old
Leon Hantwold. The
Statement the bald
headed individual had
made that- he knew
nothing concerning the
letter which had been
sent was false.

The scar-faced man
had already sought to
dodge out of sight, ac-
cording to directions
given him by the wav
ing of Smeed’s hand.
But when he saw he was
discovered and recog
nized he changed his
mind.

‘You thief!’ at last
burst from Steve’s lips.
‘*What have you done
with Leon Hantwold’s

machines?’’

The youth spoke so
loud that both men grew
alarmed instantly,
There were many peo-
ple now passing up and
down the halls of the
office building, and
some of these might
hear and investigate.

‘‘Come in here,
Lutz!’’ exclaimed Al-
bert E. S. Smeed.
“Come in and shut the
door !??

This advice was act-
ed upon without delay.
The scar-faced robber
Was empty-handed, and
So had no trouble in
Shutting the door.
Smeed locked it, and
put the key in his coat
pocket.

** Here,

~w

what does
this mean?’’ demand-
ed Steve, growing
alarmed. ‘‘Unlock that
door !?’

‘‘How did he find
his way down here?’’
growled Lutz, as he
glared savagely at the
youth.

‘“‘That’s what I want
to find out,’’ replied
Smeed. ‘‘In the first
Place, who is he??’’

oA boy that lately
has taken to living with
Hantwold.’’

‘‘Then that explains
it. He came down here
because he saw a letter
Hantwold had.”’

‘*T want to know what
you have done with
those stolen machines, ’’
Said Steve, advancing
upon Bartwell Lutz.

._ “IT am no thief, boy!
in your man,’’ growled the robber.

Evidently, he knew not what to say.

: ‘¢You are a thief,’? was the bold answer.
‘You men are all in league with each
Other. If you weren’t you wouldn’t lock
Me in this office as you have done,’’

‘‘Not so fast, young man!’’ exclaimed
Smeed, his face flaming up. ‘‘Iam not in
the habit of being addressed in this fashion,
Understand that. I know nothing about any
Tobbery.’’

‘‘Kive minutes ago you said you knew
hothing of Mr, Hantwold,’’ returned Steve,
Suggestively.

‘*Well—er—I misunderstood you,
Mered the bald-headed man.

_, Open that door!’

*‘Don’t you do it, Smeed,’’ cried Lutz,
alarm.

‘tT don’t intend to—just yet.’

‘¢VYou have no right to detain me.

**Do you suppose we are going to ‘het you
Sut to inform the police?’’ sneered Bartwell

WUutz. ‘*You’ll remain here until we are
Dleased to set you at liberty.’’

**T want to know what you and your com-
Panion have done with the stolen machines.’’

STEVE

» stam-

 

‘*We haven’t any machines.’
‘*Then why are you afraid of the police?”?
To this Lutz could make no reply.
‘*You are robbers, all of you, and nothing
| less,’? went on Steve, boldly.
best to put ona stiff front. ‘‘And if you
don’t open that door I'll yell for help.’’

‘No, you won’t!”?
‘I say C will. Now open the door in-
stantly.’?
The.two men looked at each other. A |

certain sign passed between them,
both leaped upon Steve.
The boy was thrown to the floor.

PUT OUT BOTH HANDS AS HIS BODY

You are mistaken | struck the edge of a desk as he went down,

and for the moment he was stunned. When
he recovered he found himself flat on his
back with Bartwell Lutz sitting astride of
him.

‘*Now will you
robber.
you.”’

‘‘Help! help!’’ yelled Steve.

His cry was a feeble one, and Lutz hastily
cut it short by placing his broad hand over
the youth’s mouth.

Then a desperate struggle ensued. Smeed
tried to take part, but got a vigorous kick
in the shin that caused him to back away
with a gasp of pain.

‘‘Hit him in the head, Lutz!’’ he cried.
‘*Don’t take any chances with him!’?

‘*Pll hold him and you hit him!’’ puffed
the robber.

He found keeping Steve on his back a
difficult undertaking.

But he managed to hold the youth, and in
the meanwhile Smeed looked around for a
weapon with which to attack the victim.
He could find nothing but an umbrella, but
as the end of this had a heavy silver handle,
it made a tolerably good club.

mind us?’’ hissed the
‘Promise to keep quiet, or Ill gag

Air and Water Wizard,” “Beneath the Waves.” |

He thought it |

and then |

His head |

STRUCK THE WIRES,
OF SEVERAL OF

One vicious blow was aimed at Steve’s
head. Had it landed as intended, the boy
| would have been completely knocked out, if

 

not killed.

But Steve squirmed to one side, and the

| handle of the umbrella struck ‘the carpet

with a dull thud. Before Smeed could aim

| another blow at him, the youth turned over,

| humped himself, and threw Lutz in the
| bald-headed man’s way.

Then, like a flash, Steve leaped up and
ran around a center desk and toward one of
the open windows

Escape by the door was cut off.

| youth realized that if he
| office his life might pay the forfeit.
gazed out of the window into
x | three stories below.
Smeed’s
| a narrow side street. As Steve looked’ out
| his eyes rested on a mass of telegraph wires
strung along a series of tall poles planted at
the curb line.

‘* After him!’’ cried Lutz, as he attempted
to scramble to his feet. ‘‘Don’t let him at-
tract assistance from the street!’’

Smeed rushed around the desk to cut
Steve off from the window. As he did this

Yet the
remained in the
He
the street,

 

THE STRANDS.
| the boy leaped onto the broad window-sill,
and stood up outside of the upper sash.

‘‘Hullo, what’s he up to?’’ he cried.
**Stop! You’ll be killed! My Heavens! look
at that!’’

He fell back in amazement and alarm.
True to his nickname, Overhead Steve had
launched himself into space, in an attempt
to gain the telegraph wires, twelve feet and
more away !

CHAPTER X.
STEVE MAKES /AN ODD MOVE.

HE jump was as perilous as can be
Y well imagined.
‘a\ The distance to the stone pavement
<“s7 was all of forty feet, and a fall could
mean but one thing—death !

Lutz rushed up beside Smeed, and both
expected to see Steve go down with a crash
of broken bones.

But the youth bad calculated well, and
when in mid-air he did not lose his nerve.

He put out both hands as his body struck
the wires, and as he bounced up he managed
to catch firm hold of several of the strands.

 

office did not face Broadway, but

 

AND AS HE BOUNCED UP HE MANAGED TO CATCH FIRM HOLD

 

4649
He was half-way between two of the
poles. He landed so silently that no one in

the street below:saw him, and when at last
he was discovered the pedestrians thought
he must be a lineman doing some necessary
repairs.

‘‘ Ho’s safe !’’ cried Smeed.

‘‘What nerve!’’? muttered Lutz. ‘‘He
must not get away! If he does he won’t let
up until he has us both landed behind the
bars, and Cimber, too!”’

‘*We’ll go down stairs and head him off,’’
suggested Smeed. ‘‘I’ll pretend he is an
office sneak thief, and take my gold pen out
rat his vest pocket.”’

Cate aE _upa gold pen from his desk,
Albert E. S. Smeed rushed out of the office
and to ai elevator, and was soon on his
way to the ground floor.

In the meanwhile, Steve began to move
cautiously toward one of the poles. He pro-
gressed hand over hand slowly, being afraid
to strain the wires by any’sudden jerk,
knowing that if a wire was rusted to any
extent it would break and let him down.

He was still twenty feet from the pole
when Smeed appeared on the street. The
man pointed up at the boy, and soon a
crowd began to collect.

‘*What’s the trouble?”’

“Say, that kid is a
daring one!’’

‘*What has he done?’’

‘*He’s asneak thief !’’
bawled Smeed. ‘‘He has
my gold pen!’’

“A thief! A thief!’

At once the cry was
taken up on all sides—as
such cries usually are.
The crowd began to
grow larger.

Steve heard what was
said. He couldn’t un-
derstand it, and won-
dered what the man’s
game could be.

Soon a policeman ap-
peared. He forced his
way to the foot of the

ole.

‘‘What’s the row
here?’’ he demanded.

‘*Do you see that boy?
He is a sneak thief, and
I want him arrested.”?

‘*A sneak thief, eh???
The blue-coat surveyed
Smeed, and put him
down as a responsible
business man. ‘‘All
right, sir, I’1l collar him
when he comes down.
Hi! you young rascal!
Come down here at
once!’ he bawled.

‘tT am no thief !’’ sang
out Steve.

He had just reached
the pole, and was rest-
ing on one of the cross-
bars.

‘*He is! he is!’’ cried
Smeed.

‘«That man is the thief
—or, at least, he is in
with thieves!’ retorted
the youth up the pole.

‘*Too thin! I’ve had
that dodge played on me
before!’’ cried the offi-
cer. ‘*‘Come down, I
say !”?

Slowly Steve came
down the pole, which
was provided with spike
foot rests along two
sides, About ten feet
from the ground he
halted.

Suddenly a clanging
sound was heard com-
ing from the direction
of Broadway. The next
moment a fire engine
dashed into the side
street, on its way to one
of the avenues.

The crowd, or a large
portion of it, followed the engine. Even
Smeed and the policeman were interested for
the moment.

‘‘Now come down!’’ cried the officer, as
he again turned to the pole. ‘‘Quick now!
You can’t escape from me.’’

‘‘Watch him, he is very tricky,’’
tioned Smeed.

As he spoke another loud clanging was
heard, and into the side street dashed a long
hook and ladder truck.

As itswung around the corner a sudden
idea struck Steve. He knew if he fell into
the hands of the policeman that person
would not believe his story concerning
Smeed and Lutz. More than likely, he
would be dragged off to the station-house,
and the two rascals would be given ample
time in which to make their escape.

The youth came down another foot or
two, and then, just as the long hook and
ladder truck thundered past he made a fly-
ing leap for the top of the turnout.

He came down on all-fours, and for an
instant it looked as if he must roll off and
be crushed beneath the heavy rear wheels.
But he clutched the rungs of the topmost
ladder and held fast in spite of the fact that

cau-

 
      

 

 

 

4650

his body swung around and hung over the
edge.

His sudden arrival surprised the firemen
sitting on the rear of the truck, but now
was no time to ask questions. The driver
knew nothing of what had happened, and
continued to urge forward his team at a
breakneck speed. The policeman and Smeed
shouted, but in the rattle of the wheels and
the clanging of the gong these sounds were
lost.

On and on went the fire truek, with Steve
clinging to the ladder and trying to catch
his breath. He knew he was safe

pen next.

It did not take long to find out.
going a distance of two blocks the truck again
swung around a corner and dashed up to an
alleyway, at the lower end of which a small

paint, factory was blazing away fiercely.

by jumping on the}

‘*What do you mean
truck?’’ demanded one of the firemen.

He ran up to Steve, but before he could
catch the youth, Steve was on the ground
and lost in the sea of humanity the police
were vainly endeavoring to push back.

‘sGone, well never’ mind,’’ muttered the
fireman. ‘‘But if that wasn’t a reckless
jump then I don’t know anything about
jumping,’’ he went on.

Steve would have been willing enough to
leave the vicinity, but just now that was
impossible.

‘*Get back there! Get back, or {’l] crack
you!’’? came from the policeman, and back
the crowd surged, and Steve found himself
hemmed in between a brick wall and a hun-
dred struggling and pushing men and boys.

One thing suited him, even though he was
chagrined to find himself a prisoner for the
time being. He was in a position to see the
whole of the fire.

He watched developments eagerly, for
what boy does not love to see a fire? The
paint factory burned fiercely, and all about
the spot the fire laddies worked like beavers.

Suddenly a cry rang out that caused
every one to turn pale with fear.

‘*Back! back for your lives! The oil-room
is on fire, and there is going to be an ex-
plosion !”’

CHAPTER XI.
STEVE MAKES A FRIEND.

S the cry went up the fire burst forth
’ with renewed fury. It had already
~ found some oil to feed on. The ex-

-“2- plosion would not be delayed long.

Mad with fear, the crowd broke away
and ran up and down the street helter-
skelter. tecay fell, and were trampled
under foot.

‘Let me get away! Save me!’’

It was the cry of a richly dressed woman.
She carried a little boy in her arms, and was
doing her best to get clear of the mob
around her.

3ut her strength was not equal to the
task, and she went down, with her child
still in her arms.

  

Overhead Steve was close beside her. He
saw her dilemma and stopped short.

A burly man was behind the woman.
Without hesitation or consideration the

heartless wretch was about to rush over the
prostrate form, when Steve caught him by
the collar.

‘<Don’t step on this lady, you brute!’’ he
cried. ‘‘Keep your distance!’

‘‘There’s going to bean explosion! Let
me get away!’’ howled the man, who was
the worst kind of a coward.

Steve hurled him to one side. The man
lost no time in scrambling up, and off he
went, without once apes. behind.

Others were coming on, but Steve pushed.
them back. This gave the woman a chance
to rise.

‘“‘Thank you!’’ she gasped to Steve, and
started to move on again.

‘‘Let me take your boy, madame,”’ said
Steve, politely, and before she could reply
he had the child in his arms and was run-
ning cn by her side.

Scarcely had they turned a corner into
one of the broad avenues when there came a

dull but heavy report, and the air in the
vicinity was filled with flying embers. The
crowd had escaped none too soon, for the
explosion of the oil set fire to nearly all the
buildings about the alleyway.

In a moment more Steve and his charge
and the lady were safe. The latter was
completely out of breath, and sank down on
a door-step, out of the way of the crowd.

‘‘Oh, how thankful I am that we es-
caped !’’ were the lady’s first words.

‘‘So am I,’’ smiled Steve.

‘‘Me won’t go there not no more, mam-
ma,’’ lisped the little boy. ‘‘Bad place made
mamma fall.’’

‘“Yes, dear, we'll stay away in the
future,’’ returned the fond mother, as she
hugged the little one to her breast.

‘*T went in that neighborhood to call on a
poor lady I knew when I was young,’’ ex-
plained the lady. ‘‘I had just learned from
one of the neighbors that she had moved to
Chicago when the cry of fire came. I got
out as quickly as I could, but was caught in
the crowd,’’

‘‘That was just my pickle,’’ returned

Steve. ‘‘I was willing enough to leave, but
couldn’t.’?

‘

‘

t

 

 

for the |
time being, and wondered what would hap- |

After |

another to have this gentleman before him
repeat it.

t

‘*Did the man go back into the building???

floor.
office was locked
got no response.

said the officer.

glance abou
had ha
was pu
safe in one corner stood wide open and
emy

lock and made their escape. They knew you
would get help and come back.

   
 

at headquarters

tell a one-sided version of the affair.

afterward, and here all the facts in the case
were noted down.

Smeed,’’ said the captain of the precinct.

occasions his mail matter has been stopped
by the authorities on account of fraud.
More than likely those desks and that safe,
and in fact all the office furniture, belong to
somebody else.’’

the owner of the building, having been

leave at a minute’s notice,
Gregory to Steve.

CGrooDp

While the two were speaking a cab dashed

up to the curb, and the driver came for
ward.

‘*I’ve been looking for you,’’ he said.
had to leave the stand.’’

‘Where is my husband?’’

Scarcely had the
ever, when a tall gentleman rushed up.
was the husband.

turned to Steve.

 

young man,’’ he said.
name???

| Steve told him.
|
}
}

run down a pair of robbers.’’
‘*A pair of robbers! Is it possible?’’
Franklin Gregory’s curiosity was aroused,
and he could not forbear to ask Steve a
number of questions. He was such a gentle-

confided to him his entire story.

‘““Strange, to say the least. But let us get
away from here. Won’t you come over to
the hotel with me?’’

can,’’ responded Steve.

‘*To be sure. Mary’’—Mr. Gregory turned
to his wife—‘‘supposing you take Freddie to
the hotel while I will try to help our young
friend. The police may give me more atten-
tion, as I happen to know one of the cap-
tains.’’

‘*Yes, go and help Mr. Webster all you
san, Frank,’’ replied the lady.

The gentleman assisted his wife and child
into tbe cab and kissed them both. The
turnout rolled away, and the man and Steve
walked off in the direction of Broadway.

“T am more than usually interested in
this case because I am in the patent business
in Washington,’’ explained Mr. Gregory.
‘¢T deal principally in electrical inventions.’?

‘Is that so!’’ cried Steve. ‘‘Then perhaps
Mr. Hantwold may be able to do business
with vou—that is, if he turns up all right
and his machines are found.”’

‘‘T shall be happy to do what I can for
him. Ihave had ten years’ experience in
handling patents, and have a long list of
references from people for whom I have
transacted business.’?

As the two made their way to the office
building on Broadway, Franklin Gregory
elicited from Steve the full particulars of
the strange robbery.

When the building was reached they
found the policeman who had attempted to
arrest the boy standing on the corner,

‘*Hi! I have you now!’? cried the officer,
as he grabbed Steve hy the arm. ‘‘So you
thought you would come back.”’

‘*T believe you are making a mistake,
officer,’’ said Mr. Gregory. ‘‘It is the man
you should arrest.’’

The policeman ‘‘sized up’’ the speaker,
and his face fella little. It was one thing
for Steve to have told him this and quite

He scratched his head.

‘*Well, I dunno, I reckon I had better
ake both along,’’ he muttered.

‘*That will suit me,’’ said Steve, promptly.

‘¢*He did.’

‘*All right; come up with us.”’

The three took the elevator to the third
The door to Albert E. 8. Smeed’s
up. Steve knocked, but

‘*Skipped, I?ll bet a hat!’’ said the boy.
‘*P’ll have the janitor open the door,’’

This was quickly accomplished. A single

{ the apartment showed what
ppened. Every drawer of the desks
led out and ransacked, and the little

ty.
you are right,’’ said Franklin Gregory.
‘The two men have taken time by the fore-

y 2?

CHAPTER XII.
A STORM AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

AHE policeman felt much chagrined
2 over the way in which he had _ been
duped. He made all manner of ex-
cuses, and offered to report the case

{
a

avr?

  

‘*We will do that,’’ said Steve.
He was not willing to allow the officer to

A trip to headquarters was made shortly

‘‘T believe I know this Albert E. S.

‘He is a_ patent speculator, and on several

This proved to be true. They belonged to

aken from another tenant in lieu of rent.
‘‘Hvidently the man was prepared to

‘*He is in the crowd searching for you.”’
vabman spoken, how- | may
It | them.?’

This gave Steve fresh cause for alarm,
}explain the situation to him, and then he/and he immediately sent a telegram, to be
delivered by special messenger, to Mrs. Gas-
‘‘T owe you something for your bravery, | kett, asking if she had seen anything of the |
‘*May I ask your

It took several minutes to

‘*My name is Franklin Gregory, and I am
| from Washington. Do you live in the city?’’
‘*No, sir; 1 came here to find a friend and

i feet when a blinding flash

  

NEWS.

 

     

 

 

‘*Yes, and that proves

Cimber. I wish I knew where to look

‘*T | the trio.’

| ‘*The best thing you can do is to learn
what has become of: Mr. Hantwold,’’ went
‘*For all you know he
by

| on the patent agent.

have been very badly treated

old professor.

 

carried by hand from there to Wimbleton.

‘*T7]] have to remain in
where I had best go?’’

This question was solved

| Fanelle.

more than any-
thing else that he is in league with Lutz and
for

the city all
night,’’ mused Steve, to himself. ‘‘I wonder

by Franklin &) v

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

OR,

The Young Merchants of Yokohama,

BY ENRIQUE H. LEWIS,
Author of “Sword and Pen,” “The Copper Disk,’
“A Young Free Lance,” etc., etc.

-

 

CHAPTER XIII.

WILLIS ROUND ESCAPES,

|

     

\

to the test.

|} ‘*‘You might as well use it as not,’? hej be said, much to our amazement?

said. ‘‘I will have to pay for it even if it is |
‘*T want to have those men arrested, if I] empty, and, besides, 1 feel [ ought to do

|something in return for your aid to Mrs.
| Gregory.”?
| **You’ve squared that account already,”’
| smiled Steve.

| Nevertheless, he accepted the
|agent’s offer, and by seven o’clock both

self other wise presentable.

Mrs. Gregory greeted him warmly, and

| Steve was soon on very friendly terms with
little Freddie.
‘*You is the big boy that saved mamma
from the big man with the nasty boots,’’ he
| lisped, to Steve. ‘‘Me like you, me do.”’

‘And I like you, Freddie,’’? laughed
Steve, as he stroked the youngster’s golden
hair.

The four had supper together, Mr. Gregory
insisting upon paying for Steve. It wasa
regular family gathering, and soon the
youth felt perfectly at home. He counted
himself exceedingly lucky to fall in with
such people as the Gregorys were proving
themselves.

It was rather hot in the hotel, and after
the meal was over, Franklin Gregory sug-
gested they take a walk to get the evening air.

‘*There is a little park up a few blocks,”’
he said. ‘‘We can walk to that and I’ll show
Freddie the shop-windows. He is not having
much of his trip to New York.’’

The nurse-maid, who had been off on an
errand, now appeared, and a little later the
whole party set out for a walk, Steve feel-
ing satisfied that to do anything toward
catching Smeed and the others just then was
out of the question.

Steve enjoyed the walk as much as did
any of the others. He walked beside Mr.
Gregory, who pointed out many objects of
interest. He asked the youth a good number

of ques and by the time the park was
reached knew a large portion of the boy’s
history.

He took to Steve, and told much About
himself, how he had started life on his own
responsibility at the age of fifteen, and what
a struggle it had been to get along at first.

‘‘But I managed it,’’ he, said, ‘‘and so
will you, if you work hard and watch your
chances,’’

He told Steve if he ever got tired of re-
maining with Leon Hantwold to come to
Washington.

‘*T will make a place for you in my office,
and if you invent anything of practical
valué, I’ll see to it that you obtain a fair
price for it.’’

‘‘T shall remember your offer,’’ replied
the youth. ‘‘You are very kind.’’

The close and muggy day was about to
end in a heavy thunder-storm. Already the
flashes of lightning could be seen to the west. |

‘‘We had better get back to the hotel,”’
said Mrs. Gregory, in alarm. ‘‘We do not
want to get wet.’’

Her husband agreed, but ere the party
could leave the little park the big drops
began to come down. In less than halt a
minute it was raining heavily.

No one had an umbrella, and they sought
shelter in a music-stand in the center of the
park. Here the wind swept in some rain,
but still it was much more pleasant than
standing in the opening.

‘‘Oh, Ido not like the lightning,’’ cried
Mrs. Gregory, asa bright flash lit up the
park, making even the electric lights appear
dim by contrast. The nurse-maid gave a
slight shriek.

““T’ll go out for a carriage and an um-
bella,’’ said Franklin Gregory, and off he
dashed toward the nearest street, seeking
shelter under a line of trees as he went.

Hardly had he covered a distance of fifty
i of lightning
raused all those in the music-stand to fall
back as if temporarily paralyzed. A streak
of bluish-white ran overhead and into the
very tree under which Franklin Gregory
was passing. The lightning-bolt ran down
the trunk of the tree, and as it did so, the
man was seen to throw up both hands and

patent

| found themselves at the hotel, where Steve
lost no time in brushing up and making him- |

full powered.

of strength or shrewdness will save you.

brain.
A lad learning to swim places a dozen

the water; is carried beyond his depth;
swept away by an undertow, and swims suc-
cessfully the length of three city blocks. It
was his reserve force and the stimulating fear
of death that brought him safely to shore.

When Nattie Manning felt himself falling
into the canal, sent there by Willis Round’s
cunning arm, he realized only one emotion,
and that was rage—overpowering, consum-
ing anger. He was wild with wrath to think
that he had been tricked by the ex-book-
keeper, and the flames of his passion were
not lessened by discomfiture.

It seemed that he had barely touched the
water before he was out, climbing hand
over hand up the jagged stone side.
day lie does not know how he emerged so

he dragged himself to the passage-way.

He gained the spot, however, and, thor-
oughly saturated with water, set out at the
top of his speed after his assailant, whose
shadowy figure scurried along in front of
him toward the bay. What the lad hoped to
accomplish he could not well tell himself,
but he continued the pursuit with the keen
determination of a blood-hound.

A short distance back of the ‘‘go down,’’
a narrow street ran from the bluff to the
center of the city. It crossed the canal with
the aid of a low bridge, and was occupied
by storehouses.

died down to occasional puffs. In the south
lightning could still be seen, but it was the
mere glowing of atmospheric heat.

mercantile warehouses, the street-lamps
were few and far between. There was oné
at the junction of the bridge and passage-
way, however, and when Nattie dashed into
its circle of illumination, he suddenly found
himself confronted by a uniformed police-
man.

The latter immediately stretched out his
arms and brought the lad toa halt. Then
drawing his short sword, he demanded in

Nattie hurriedly made known his identity;
and explained the events of the night.
Brief as was the delay, when the tw0
started in pursuit of the fugitive, enough
time had been wasted to permit him to es-
cape. A hasty search of the neighborhood
brought no results. Willis Round was out 0
reach.
‘*No matter,’’ remarked the lad, at last-
‘*T know him, and it won’t be difficult t0
Rot the scoundrel.”’
teturning to the ‘‘go down’? with the offi-
cer, he closed the window and then dis-
patched the man to the nearest messenger
office with a note for Grant. In due tim®
the police official returned with assistance:
Patrick Cronin was found helplessly intoxl-
cated in a near-by house, and unceremonl
ously lugged away to jail. ;
The lame youth was prompt in his appeat’
ance on the scene. He brought with him #
servant of the family, who was installed 45
watchman until the morrow. Relieved from™
his responsibility, Nattie accompanied hi§
brother home, and after explaining the
affair in detail, proceeded to take the res’
he needed for the wrestling match of thé
next day.
On reporting at the office on the followi0S
morning, he found Grant and Mori still dis~
cussing Willis Round’s actions. A repo
from the police stated that nothing had
been accomplished. The fugitive was still 4
liberty, and in all probability had left th®

 

 

 

 

” said Franklin

fall on his back, to all appearances struck
dead! ,
(TO BE CONTINUED.)

ity.
‘“*T1’l] wager a yen he is speeding as fast ne
the train can carry him to either Nagasak

    

Yankee Boys In J apan;

(“YANKEE Boys IN JAPAN” was commenced in
Although the telegram was sent during | No. 287. Back numbers can be obtained of all News —

the middle of the afternoon, Overhead Steve | 48°")

| knew he could not expect a reply before the |

following morning. The message could only |

| be sent to Plattsville, and would have to be |

> ¥
OQ man, or boy, for that matter,
knows just what he can do until put
We may think we know
ge the limit of our strength or endur-
man, and so kind, that the youth willingly | Gregory inviting him to use a spare room| ance, but we cannot prove it‘until an emer-
iin a suite he had engaged at the Hotel| gency arises. Then we are often found mis-
| taken in our previous surmises, and, need it
Nature is a wise mother. She has provided
in alla reserve force which only needs the
touch of an exigency to cause it to appear |
A task is set before you—you
cannot do it in your opinion; but you try—
and succeed. You are in peril; only a miracle 7
Involuntarily you act, and, lo! the miracle
;}comes from your good right arm or your |

yards as the extent of his powers. He enters

To this —

quickly, or by what latent force of muscle 4

The storm was passing away. The rain
had slackened perceptibly, and the wind had —

In that part of Yokohama devoted to

peremptory tones the meaning of his haste. —
Seeing the futility of resisting the official,

    
    

   
   
 

 

    
      

   
 

     
   

           

     

   
     

    
 
 
  

  

       
 

 

   

J

     

@ ship anc
Grant s]
**In my
; ‘orp }
b wh
_ blows ove
- ‘If the
| Yokoham:
‘the bars,’
‘He deser
—4n all-wise
' the ‘go do
-Considerab
»** What v
**Dischai
hy connec
by tempte
4 bottle of
Oring a cri
_ Man.’’
eS ‘I will
Couple of
'**He deser’
‘*When s

. We ee

   
  
  
 
 
   
  
 
 
   
   
    
    
  
  
 
  
   
   
   
   
      
 
   
  
  
  
 
    
    
   
   
    
 
  
   
    
    
  
   
   
  
    
 
   
   
  
 
  
   
   
  
 
  

   

 

 

 

  
    

are due
- ‘It’sagq
' the young
“Suppose 1
The sugg
eTity. Lea
“Native wat
_ Jinrikishas
_Where the
Place.
' The stor
' 8nded in d
_Tays of the
' Sreeze fro!
_ With brisk
tic peak of
The city '
ations we
' after the Jz
the grand |
Nated. It «
- Manning B:
_ Patriotism.
 Streamin;
-Toof was an
® raping th
Others inter
® Country. T
- 4rches and |
_ Wore a littl
e It was a
Point of vi
fore, the {|
'Sailed into
Message of
Of the Unite
» At that
Walled in by
Siveness anc
Sands of ye:
Course of lif
fied with h
arbarism.
It require:
the centrs
he Yankee
fleet of ships
lerce the |
Many made
- Pulsed.
The Dutch
ut on the
_Yepresentati\
the Mikado
ith heads
basing attit
Contempt th

E
oe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

-

                
 
 

  

       
 

 

    
        
  

 

        
       
     

  
 

        
     

   

    
     
 
  

    

        
       
  

  

   
 

  

       
 
     
     
   
   
   
   
  

 
 

      
   
 

&ccept them
Of an envoy}
have decided
Modore Perr:
rie.

__ Firm, imp!

(Sus withal, bh
feaching Jap
4nd evasions.
| fugust ruler
With the fore
‘*T am here
® Preside
Merica, anc
onagee hims
“Pied the bh
‘Ships and twe
“ntil I am re
'"y President
He finally 1
Usual delay, «
‘Wo countrie
Vilized worl
hich result
ifted from h
high plane :
at her peo
nd honor tl
Commodore F
With apolog
ain take up

      
     
 
  

    

    
  

  

          
   
  

   

    

 

    

  

   
  

    

   
  

 
   

         
  
 

      

      
       
   
    

 

      
    

     

  

 

      

      
       
       
  

  

   
 

   

        
       
    

 

     

came u

> stated
> enjoyir

Attie aptly r

     

 
 
 

-Form.]

an,

r Kobi,’’ remarked Mori. ‘‘He’ll try to get
ship and leave the country.”’

Grant shook his head doubtfully.

**In my opinion, he will not do that,’’ he
‘Said. ‘‘There are too many places in the in-

erior where he. can hide until this affair
lows over.’?

‘‘If the scoundrel ever shows his face in
Yokohama I’1l see that he is placed behind
e bars,’’? exclaimed Nattie, vindictively.
Disk,” ‘He deserves little mercy at our hands. If

n all-wise Providence had not sent me to

he ‘go down’ last night we would now be

Onsiderably out of pocket.’’

_ ‘*What will we do with Patrick Cronin??’
| ‘‘Discharge him, that’s all. We can’t prove

“any connection with Round. The latter sim-

id,

need in ©
ll News

y tempted him away from his duty with

»ottle of whisky. It will be impossible to
® bring a criminal’ charge against the Irish-

1atter, “9 man.’’

til put — ‘*T will see that he remains in jail for a

> know “FH couple of weeks, anyway,’’ decided Grant.

endur- “ ‘‘He deserves some punishment. ’?
® ‘‘When shall we close up?’’ asked Nattie,
“fayly. ‘‘This is a great holiday, you know.

‘We are due at the race track by ten.”’

_. ‘It’s a quarter past nine now,’’ replied
| the young Japanese, looking at his watch.
“Suppose we start at once?”?

The suggestion was acted upon with alac-

ity. Leaving the office in charge of a
“Native watchman, the three youths took
iiracle jinrikishas and proceeded to the ‘‘bluff,’’
© you, — here the sports of the day were to take
niracle Place.
r your # The storm of the preceding night had
-} ded in delightful weather. The tropical
dozen Tays of the sun were tempered by a cooling
enters breeze from the bay. The air was glorious
jepth; § With briskness, and so clear that the majes-
1s suc- “J tic peak of Fuji San seemed within touch.
ks. It __ The city was in gala attire. Banners of all
ig fear ‘Nations were flaunting in the breeze, but
ore. —% after the Japanese flag of the Rising Sun,
falling §% the grand old Stars and Stripes predomi-
ound’s % Nated. It could not be said that the firm of
otion, “% Manning Brothers & Okuma had failed in
nsum- § patriotism.
| think _ Streaming from a lofty flag-staff on the
-book- Toof was an immense American ensign, and
1 were raping the facade of the building were
‘Others intertwined with the standard of the
Country. The streets were decorated with
_ @ arches and bunting, and every second native
‘o this “% Wore a little knot of red, white, and bine.
zed sO “ It was a unique celebration, from one
nuscle point of view. Just thirty-nine years be-
‘fore, the gallant Commodore Perry had
Sailed into the Bay of Yokohama with a
-} Message of good will from the then President
whose § Of the United States to the ruler of Japan.
ontof* — At that time the island kingdom was
ped to Walled in by impassable bulwarks of exclu-
mself, — Siveness and hatred of foreigners. For thou-
9 keen =F Sands of yearsshe had calmly pursued her
_¥# Course of life, lost to civilization, and satis-
ywn,?” fied with her reign of idols and depths of
to the — rbarism.
1 with © It required a strong hand to force a way
cupied — the central power, and time waited until
4} the Yankee commodore appeared with his

erain § fleet of ships. Other nations had tried to
Pierce the barrier. England, France, Ger-
‘Many made repeated attempts, but were re-
pulsed.
_, The Dutch secured a foothold of trade,
‘but on the most degrading terms. Their
_tepresentatives were compelled to approach
he Mikado and Shogun upon their knees
ith heads bowed in the dust. In this de-
basing attitude were they greeted with the
Contempt they deserved, and: as slaves to
Yapan.
~. Much as Americans desired commercial
‘Teélations with the country, they would not
8cecept them with humility. In the selection
of an envoy the United States could not
ave decided on a better man than Com-
‘Modore Perry, brother of the hero of Lake
‘Arie.
__ Firm, implacable, intelligent, and gener-

%us withal, he was the fitting choice. On
‘Teaching Japan he was met with refusals
8nd evasions. He persisted, and finally the
{ugust ruler sent a minor official to confer
With the foreigner.

,, ‘I am here as personal representative of
the President of the United States of
America, and I will see no one save the
“Mikado himself, or his highest official,’ re-
‘Plied the bluff naval officer. ‘‘I have ten

ips and two hundred guns, and here I stay
til I am received with the formalities due
y President,’’

_He finally won the point, and after the
‘sual delay, a treaty was made between the
‘Wo countries, to the amazement of the
“Ivilized world. This was the entering wedge
Which resulted in the Japan of to-day.

4ifted from her barbarism, she has reached

high plane among nations. Small wonder
at her people celebrate the anniversary,
nd honor the memory of the immortal
~Ommodore Perry.

_ With apologies for this digression, I will
“Sain take up the thread of the story.

ns

CHAPTER XIV.

_ THE BEGINNING OF THE CELEBRATION.

JEAN ROUTE to the ‘‘blui’’ the boys
came upon a curious procession. Ag
stated above, the whole town was
“> enjoying a matsura, or festival. As
ttie aptly remarked, #& was the Fourth of

 

July, Decoration Day and Christmas thrown
into one.

In the present case the spectacle was one
calculated to make a foreigner imagine him-
self in the interior of Africa. Approaching
the jinrikishas occupied by Grant and his
companions was a bullock-cart, upon which
a raised platform and scaffolding twenty
feet high had been constructed.

The bullock and all were covered with
paper decorations, green boughs, and artifi-
cial flowers. In front a girl witha grotesque
mask danced and postured, while a dozen
musicians twanged impossible instruments
and kept up an incessant tattoo on drums.

On foot around the bashi, as the whole
structure is called, were twenty or thirty
lads naked as to their legs, their faces
chalked, their funny little’ heads covered
with straw hats a yard wide, and their
bodies clad in many-colored tunics, decked
out with paper streamers and flowers.

In front, on all sides, behind, and even

under the wheels, were scores of children |

marching to the tune of the band—if it

could be so called—much as the youths of |

America do in the processions, be it circus
or otherwise, in our country.

The boys forming the guard to the bullock-
cart marched step by step with military
precision, chanting at the top of their
voices, and banging upon the ground a long
iron bar fitted with loose rings.

clanging iron, formed together a combina-
tion calculated to draw the attention of

the boys it was a common sight, and they
bade their karumayas hurry forward away
from the din.

On reaching the field on the ‘‘bluff,’’ they
found an immense throng awaiting the com-
mencement of ceremonies. The race track
had been laid out in fitting style, and in-
numerable booths, tents, and kiosks filled
two-thirds of the space.

The morning hours were to be devoted to
ancient Japanese games, and the time after
tiffin to modern sports and matches, includ-
ing the event of the day, the wrestling.
Mori Okuma—an athlete in both European
and native sports—was listed in a bout at
Japanese fencing, so he left his companions
for the dressing-tent.

Nattie and Grant glanced over the vast
concourse of people, and exchanged bows
with their many friends. The Americans
and English in foreign countries keep green
in their memory the land of their birth, and
in all places where more than one foreigner
can be found a club is organized.

It is a sort of oasis in the desert of unde- |
sirable neighbors, and forms a core around |

which cluster good fellowship and the habits
and customs of home. The Strangers’ Club
in Yokohama, had a membership of six
hundred, and they were well represented in
the present assemblage.

Grant and Nattie were well-known mem-
bers, and they counted their friends by the
hundred. In looking over the field the latter
espied a group in the grand-stand which
immediately attracted his attention. He
pointed them out to his brother.

‘‘There is Mr. Black and the two German
merchants,’’ be said. ‘‘They have their
heads together as if discussing some weighty
problem. I wonder where Ralph is? He is
interested in athletics. ’’

‘*]’ll wager a yen he is about somewhere.
So the Germans are hobnobbing with our
esteemed enemy, eh? I’ll warrant we are
the subject of conversation. I don’t like the
way Swartz and Bauer conduct business, and
I guess they know it. They can form an
alliance if they wish to. We needn’t lose
any sleep over it.’

‘‘There comes Ralph. He is looking in
this direction. I wonder what he thinks
about the failure of his confederate, Willis
Round, to injure us? To the duse with
them, anyway! The fencing is about to
commence.”?’

The clapping of hands and a prolonged
cheer proclaimed the beginning of the sports.
The Yobidashi, or caller-out; took his stand
upon a decorated box, andannounced a bout
at fencing between the ever-pleasant and
most worthy importing merchant, Mori
Okuma, and_ the _ greatly-to-be-admired
doctor-at-law, Hashimoto Choye.

At the end of this ceremonious proclama-
tion he introduced our friend and his an-
tagonist. Both were small in stature, and
they presented rather a comical appearance.
Each was padded out of all proportions
with folds of felt.and leather. Upon their
heads were bonnet-shaped helmets of metal,
and each wore a jacket of lacquered pieces
decidedly uncomfortable to the eye.

At the word of command attendants
rushed in with the weapons. These were not
broadswords, rapiers, nor cutlasses, but a
curious instrument composed of a number of
strips of bamboo, skillfully wrought together
and bound. The end was covered with a soft
skin bag, and the handle was very much
like that of an ordinary sword.

Armed with these the combatants faced
each other, and at the sound of a mellow
bell fell to with the utmost ferocity. Slash,
bang, whack, went the weapons; the fencers
darted here and there, feinted, prodded, cut,
and parried, as if they had to secure a cer-
tain number of strikes before the end of the
bout. ™

It was all very funny to those unaccus-

GOoonD NEWS.

 

 

 

4651

 

tomed to the Japanese style of fencing, and
the naval officers from the various war-
ships in port roared with laughter. To the
natives it was evidently deeply interesting,
and they watched the rapid play of the
weapons as we do the gyrations of our
favorite pitcher in the national game.

At the end of five minutes the game was
declared finished. The umpire, an official of
the city government, decided in favor of
Mori, and that youth fled to the dressing-
tent to escape the plaudits of the audience.
He received the congratulations of Grant
and Nattie with evident pleasure, however.

The next item on the programme was a |

novel race between trained. storks. Then
came a creeping match between a score of
native youngsters, and so the morning
passed with jugglery and racing and many
sports of the ancient island kingdom.

At noon tiffin was served to the club and
its guests in a large pavilion placed in the
center of the grounds.
recommenced at two o’clock with a running
match between a dozen trained athletes. Of
all the spectators, probably the happiest was
Grant Manning.

Deprived of participation in the various
sports by his deformity, he seemed to take
a greater interest from that very fact. He
clapped his hands and shouted with glee at
every point, and was the first to congratu-

| late the winners as they left the tracks.
The colors, the songs, the dance, and the}

The time for the great event of the day

| finally arrived. At three the master of cere-
| monies, clad in kamishimo, or ancient garb,
every person not deaf, dumb, and blind. To |

mounted his stand and announced in sten-
torian tones:

‘‘The next event on the programme will
be a contest in wrestling between six gentle-
men of this city. Those persons whose names
are listed with the secretary will report in
the dressing-tent.’’

‘‘That calls me,’’ cried Nattie, gayly.
‘*Boys, bring out your rabbit’s’ feet and
your lucky coins.’

‘*You don’t know the name of your
antagonist?’’ asked Mori.

‘**No; nor will I until we enter the ring.
Small matter. I feel in fine trim, and I in-
tend to do the best I can. So long.”’

‘‘Luck with you, Nattie,’’ called out all
within hearing, casting admiring glances
after the handsome, athletic lad.

Directly in front of the grand-stand a ring
had been conStructed something after the
fashion of the old-time circus ring. The
surface was sprinkled with a soft black
sand, and the ground carefully leveled.
Overhead stretched a canopy of matting,
supported by a number of bamboo poles
wrapped in red, white, and blue bunting.

At the four corners of the arena were
mats for the judges, and in the center an
umpire in gorgeous costume took ee
By permission of the Nomino Sakune Jinsha
Society, which controls the national game
of wrestling in the empire, their hereditary
judgés were to act in the present match.

After Nattie disappeared in the dressing-
tent a short delay occurred. - As usual, the
audieace indicated their impatience with
shouts and calls, and the ever-present small
boy made shrill noises upon various quaint
instruments.

Suddenly a herald with a trumpet emerged
from the tent, and the vast concourse be-
came quiet. He sounded a blast, the canvas
flaps of two openings were pulled aside, and
two lads bare as to chest and with legs clad
in trunks bounded into the arena.

A murmur of surprise came from the
audience; the antagonists faced each other,
and then glared a bitter defiance. From
one entrance had come Nattie Manning,
and from the other—Ralph Black!

?

CHAPTER XV.
THE WRESTLING MATCH.

ATTIE’S several encounters with the

younger member of the English firm

\N had been duly discussed in the club,

@/\ and the discomfiture of the elder

merchant during bis call upon Grant had

been a toothsome morsel for the gossipers of
the city.

The enmity between the houses of Man-
ning and Black was the common talk among
the foreigners of Yokohama. They were
aware of the cause of the trouble, and knew
the suspicions concerning the payment of
the now-famous debt.

And when the opening of the flaps in the
dressing-tent had disclosed the youths des-
tined to face each other for the supremacy
of the wrestling ring, a‘murmuring sound
rolled through the concourse like the echoes
of a passing wind.

‘*It’s young Black and Nattie Manning!"?
cried more than one, ‘‘Whew! there will be
a warm tussle now.’’

Over in one corner of the grand-stand
Grant and Mori sat in amazement. The de-
nouement was entirely unexpected to them.
Not long did they remain silent. Up sprang
the lame youth, his kindly face glowing
with excitement. Mounting a vacant chair
despite his infirmity, he shook a bundle of
English notes in the air, and shouted:

‘‘Ten to one on my brother! Ten to one!
ten toone! Twenty pounds even that he
secures the first two points! Whoop! where
are the backers of the other side? I’ll make
it fifteen to one in five-pound notes. Who
will take the bet?”’

The ceremonies |

In the meantime Mori had not been idle.
Forcing his way directly to where Mr.
Black was sitting with the Germans, he
shook a bag of coin in the air, and dared
them to place a wager with him. Following
his example came a half-dozen American
friends of the new firm, and presently the
grand-stand resounded_ with the cries of
eager bettors.

Down in the arena Nattie and Ralph stood
confronting one another like tigers in a
forest jungle. The former’s face was set
| with determination. He had long wished for
| just such an opportunity. It had come at last.
| Ralph’s face wore a peculiar pallor. It
| was not fear, but rather that of one who
felt the courage of desperation. He well
knew there was little difference in physical
strength between them, but he appeared to
lack the stamina of honesty and merit.

Both lads were in the pink of condition,
and they formed a picture appealing to the
hearts of all lovers of athletics. There was
not an ounce of superfluous flesh on either.
If anything, Ralph was slightly taller, but
Nattie’s arms gave promise of greater length
and muscle.

Presently the din in the grand-stand
ceased. Wagers had been given and taken
on both sides with great freedom. Grant
had collapsed into a chair with his purse
empty and his note-book covered with bets.
Mori was still seeking takers with great per-
sistency.

A blast was sounded on the herald’s
trumpet, and the eyes of the vast audience
were centered on the ring. The judges took
their places, the umpire hopped to the mid-
dle, and with a wave of his fan gave the
signal.

Nattie and Ralph faced each other, eye to
eye. Slowly sinking down until their hands
rested upon their knees, they waited for an
opportunity to grapple.

The silence was intense. The far-away
echoes of a steamer’s whistle came from the
distant bay. A chant of voices sounding like
the murmur of humming-birds was wafted
in from a neighboring temple. The hoarse
croaking of a black crow—the city’s scaven-
ger—came from a circling figure overhead.

A minute passed.

Nattie straightened. Ralph followed his
example. Warily they approached — each
other. Face to face, and eye to eye; intent
upon every step, they began to march side-
ways; always watching, always seeking for
an opening. Their hands twitched in readi-
ness for a dash, a grip, a tug.

Zach had his weight thrown slightly for-
ward, and his shoulders slouched a little,
watching for one unwary move. Nattie
feinted suddenly. His right arm darted out,
he touched Ralph’s shoulder, but the Eng-
lish youth dodged, only to be grasped by
the waist by his antagonist’s left hand.

There was a sharp tug, a whirl of the
figures, then they broke away, each still
upon his feet. -A vast sigh came from the
See and Grant chuckled almost deliri-
ously.

The antagonists rested, still confronting
each other. Ralph’s pallor had given way
to an angry flush. is lips moved as if
muttering oaths. Nattie remained cool and
imperturbable. His was the advantage.
Coolness in combat is half the battle. Those
in the audience that had risked their money
upon the merchant’s son began to regret
their actions.

The match was not won, however.

At the end of five minutes a signal came
from the umpire. Before the flash of his
brilliantly decorated fan had vanished from
the eyes of the audience, Nattie darted for-
ward and clashed breast to breast against
Ralph.

The latter put forth his arms blindly,
gropingly; secured a partial hold of his op-

nent’s neck, essayed a backward lunge,
uut_ in the hasty effort stumbled and sud-
denly found himself upon his back with the
scattering gusts of sand settling around him.

And then how the grand-stand rang with
cheers !”?

‘*First bout for Manning!’’

‘‘A fair fall, and a great one!’?

High above the tumult of sounds echoed a
shrill voice:

‘*Thirty to one on my brother! I offer it
in sovereigns! Take it up if you dare!”’

The victor stood modestly bowing from —
side to side, but there was a glitter of pride
in his eyes which told of the pleasure he felt
—doubly a pleasure, because his antagonist
was Ralph Black.

The latter had been assisted to his feet by
the men appointed for the purpose. He was
trembling in every limb, but it was from
rage, not exhaustion. His breath came in
short, quick gasps, and he glared at Nattie
as if meditating an assault.

Again the umpire’s fan gave the signal,
and once more the combatants faced each
other for the second point. And now hap-
pened a grievous thing for our heroes.

Nattie was not ordinarily self-assured.
There was no room in his character for con-
ceit; but his triumph in the present case
caused him to make a very serious mistake.

He failed at this critical moment to bear
in mind Moltke’s famous advice: ‘‘He who
would win in war must put himself -in his
enemy’s place.’? Flushed with his victory
he entered into the second bout with a care-
lessness that brought him to disaster in the
‘twinkling of an eye., .

 

 

 
i

  

4652

 

 

GOOD

 

Ralph Black, smarting under defeat, kept
his wits about him, however, and, adopting
his opponent’s tactics, made a fierce rush at
the instant of the signal. Grasping Nattie
by the waist, he forced him aside, and then
backward with irresistible force.

The result—the lad found himself occupy-

ing almost the same spot of earth which |
Now was the |
time for the opposition to cheer, and that |
they did right royally. Counter shouts came |

bore Ralph’s former imprint.

from the American faction, and again Grant
and Mori’s voices rose about the tumult in-
viting wagers.

Five minutes of rest, then came the time
for the final and decisive bout.

It was with very different feelings that
Nattie passed to the center of the ring now.
His handsome face plainly bespoke humilia-
tion, but there was a flash of the eyes which
also announced a grim and desperate deter-
mination. It was like that of Ben Hur when
he swept around the arena with his chargers
on the last circle.

Ralph was plainly elated. He paused long
enough to wave one hand toward a group of
friends; then the twain faced for the last
time. It was evident from the outset that
the bout would not last very long.

Warily, and with the utmost caution, the
lads confronted each other. Side by side
they edged and retreated. A silence as of
the tombs of forgotten races fell upon the
audience.

Suddenly—no man’s eyes were quick
enough to see the start—Nattie dropped
almost on all-fours at Ralph’s feet: He
lunged forward, grasped the English youth’s
hips, then with a mighty effort which
brought the blood in a scarlet wave to his
face, he surged upward,.and, with a crash,
the merchant’s son lay a motionless heap in
the center of the arena!

And the match was won!

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Oe
(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.[

CENTER-BOARD JIM;

OR,

The Secret of the Sargasso Sea

A YACHTING STORY.

caiaanpil dey tous

BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY,
Author of ‘Friends or Foes,” “Ouadel Carey,”
‘Won al West Point,” ete., ete.
(“CENTER-BOARD JIM” was commenced in No. 281,
Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

 

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

WHEREIN FIRE IS ADDED TO
COMPLICATIONS.

THE MANY

N the brief space of thirty seconds Jim
i and Harold had been plunged from the

heights of joy to the lowermost depths
of despair. The actions of the crazy man
on board the Storm King bad indicated that
something was in sight down the recently
formed channel.

On turning the boys saw the masts of a
steam yacht rapidly approaching from the
open sea. At first they naturally thought it
was the Starling. With heart bursting with
joy, Jim snatched up the glass. One glance
was enough. The long, rakish, black-painted
hull proved its identity. It was Captain
Darrow’s yacht, the Diablo.

For fully a moment the lads could do
nothing but gaze alternately from each other
to the nearing craft. They well knew what
the result would be. Captain Darrow’s
threat on board the Starling was no idle
one. He was in position now to carry it out.

‘‘Blamed if we an’t in er hole now,’’
muttered Jim, glancing around as if in-
stinctively looking for a way of escape.
‘*Confound the luck! Why couldn’t it have
been de Starling instead of dat coffin ship.
Wot are we going ter do now?”’

‘‘We are between two fires,’’ replied
Harold, disconsolately. ‘‘We cannot board
the Storm King on account of that maniac,
and it would be of no use to return to the
Southern Cross. Those flags will attract
Captain Darrow’s attention, and he will
search it.”’

‘We couldn’t git back there anyway. The
Diablo will reach it before we could. I’m
blamed if I ever was in such a tight fix be-
fore. If we are caught by the captain itll
be all day with us. He will show us little
mercy. Then there’s another thing.”’

‘¢*What’s that?’’

Jim clinched his te6th and struck the gun-
wale of the yawl with his closed fist in an
excess of rage and disappointment.

‘«The document,’’ he said, hoarsely. ‘‘The
captain’ll git the papers, and that means
the reward of ten thousand pounds. [ would
give my life if——”’

He was suddenly interrupted by a shrill
ery from Harold. That youth sprang to his
feet with an impetus that narrowly escaped
capsizing the boat. Waving his hands above
his head, he shouted, incoherently :

‘‘There is another yacht coming! Glory!
It is white-painted. It’s in good time. The
Starling! the Starling !’’

Jim glanced in the direction indicated by

<>

 

 

Harold, then the two lads fell to laughing
and crying like children. Just appearing in
sight from behind the huge hull of the
Southern Cross was a graceful craft, whose
yellow funnel and trim spars proclaimed
her to be the Starling.

She was almost side by side with the
Diablo, and the lads soon saw that a race
was in progress. A race between enemies
with the lust for gold on one side, and grim
determination on the other. The scene told
its own tale.

Both yachts must have sighted the lane at
the same time. Each seized the opportunity,
and steamed headlong through the channel
in search of the fleet of derelicts supposed to
be imbedded in the Sargasso Sea. On catch-
ing sight of the flag bedecked Southern
Cross each had probably called upgn every
ounce of coal, every knot of speed to reach
the goal first.

Jim and Harold were again lifted out of
the depths of desnair. Their joy knew no
bounds. They shouted and cheered until they
were hoarse, then they crouched down in
the yawl and watched the progress of the |
thrilling race with fascinated eyes.

The crazy man and the Storm King were
totally forgotten for the nonce. In the
course of several moments the contending
yachts were within a few lengths of the first
derelict. On the latter the flags were still
streaming bravely in the breeze. Their new |
appearance was absolute proof of recent set- |
ting.

To the boy’s great joy, it soon became
evident that the Starling was creeping
ahead. Her yellow funnel spouted thick
volumes of black smoke, and she raced
through the water like a grayhound. The
Diablo was also being urged at full speed.
Upon her bridge could be seen a group of
men surrounding a central figure. The
identity of the latter was plainly apparent.
It was Captain Darrow.

He was standing stern and implacable,
grasping the railing in front with a deter-
mined air. When the yachts were first
sighted the Diablo was at least a length in
advance, Now their relative positions were
changed. Foot by foot Mr. Hungerford’s
graceful craft had crept up until at last just
as the two vessels reached the after part of
the Southern Cross the Starling overlapped
her rival by fifty or more yards.

Suddenly a shrill blast came from the
white-painted yacht’s whistle. Ths sound
aroused the boys from their inaction.
Springing erect, Jim waved an oar and
shouted at the top of his voice. Harold in-
stantly followed his example.

Presently the familiar figure of the young
scientist was seen to ascend to the bridge;
then a series of sharp toots came from the
Starling’s siren. They were seen.

Picking up the spy-glass, Jim leveled the
instrument at the Starling’s bridge. He saw
Mr. Hungerford shaking hands with the
venerable skipper as if an excess of joy and
enthusiasm required to be worked off in that
manner. Theu the lad turned his attention
to the Diablo..

He saw Captain Darrow produce a pair of
binoculars, level them, then dash the glasses
upon the deck. There was a rushing about
on the bridge, then several men started for-
ward toward a tarpaulin-covered object in
the bow.

‘‘What in thunder do they mean to do?’’
exclaimed Jim, in a startled voice. ‘‘ Blamed
if they an’t getting a gun ready for use!”?

‘*Ts that a fact?’’ replied Harold, anxious-
ly. , ‘Surely, they would not dare to fire on
us?’

‘‘That villain is desperate enough to do!
anything. He knows now that it will be a |
fight for the valuable document, and he’ll
move heaven and earth to secure possession
of it.

‘*But do you think he will fire on us in
such a cold-blooded manner?’’

Jim did not reply fora moment. Apply-
ing his eye to the glass again he saw the
group of men forward working at the re-
peating-gun as if loading it.’A hasty glance
toward the Starling revealed similar prepa-
rations.

‘‘Hurrah! I knew it!’’ cried the lad, his
face beaming. with delight. ‘‘Mr. Hunger-
ford is a trump, and you can bet your life
on that. He’s getting ready to give them a
dose of their own medicine. He'll stand by
us if it takes a leg, Whoop! there’ll be
warm times in a jiffy.”’

‘Suppose we row beyond the Storm King
and get out of range?’’ suggested Harold.

‘*No; we will stay right bere and see the
fun,’’ was the reckless reply. ‘‘They will be
here ina pair of minutes anyway. Look!
Mr. Hungerford and Captain Darrow are
yelling at each other now. They are shaking
their fists at each other. Good! Mr. Hunger-
ford bas ordered his men to train the two
Maxims on the Diablo. I wish somebody
would pull the trigger. Ah-h-h! that settles
it; Captain Darrow is backing down. The
Diablo has stopped.’’

As he concluded Jim turned a face ex-
pressive of deep disgust to his companion.
He had evidently set his heart on seeing a
naval combat, and the action of the Diablo’s
owner was a great disappointment. Sitting
down in the stern-sheets of the yawl, he
sighed disconsolately.

Urged by her powerful engines, the grace- |
ful Starling swiftly approached them, When

 

 

 

within a dozen yards a wild cheer came jn the rigging directly below were several abled.’’

 

NEWS.

 

from the crew assembled forward of the
| bridge. Jim and Harold were on the point
lof replying in kind when a sudden gust of
wind from the southward brought a strong
smell of burning wood to their nostrils.

Hastily glancing toward the derelict, they
saw a thin column of smoke leap up from
ithe shattered cabin. It was instantly fol-
|lowed by a cloud of greater density, and
| then a tongue of flame burst from the same
spot. With a bound Jim regained his feet.

Frantically waving his arms, he shouted,
hoarsely :

‘<Tt’s a-fire!
dere’s a man on board.
ford, dat’s de ship you are looking for.
de Storm King! it’s de Storm King!”’

CHAPTER XXXII.
ANOTHER DANGER THREATENS.

 

 

De derelict’s burning, and
Oh, Mr. Hunger-
It’s

Nf. excitement on the Starling. The young

scientist sprang to the end of the

c bridge, and, leaning far over, asked,
in a voice filled with amazement:

‘‘What is that you say? There is a man on
board the derelict?, Impossible!’

‘‘It is true, Mr. Hungerford,’’ called out

fr ee wild cry produced the greatest

Harold, excitedly. ‘‘And it is the Storm
King, too. We saw the man—there he is

|now.’?

He pointed a shaking finger in the direc-
tion of the bark’s main rigging. Climbing
up from the deck was the tawny-whiskered
man. Gaining a place a dozen feet above
the bulwark, the lunatic twined his legs
around the shrouds and swung out, with
arms tossing about in mad glee.

It was a weird, uncanny sight. Fierce puffs
of smoke ascended from the burning cabin,
winding in somber clouds around the masts
and rigging of the doomed ship. Creeping
serpents of scarlet flame crept greedily from
plank to plank. A strong odor of burning
wood and tar and the never-ending taint of
the mysterious sea filled the air.

The young scientist lost little time in de-
ciding what to do. A brief period of amaze-
ment at the startling denouement, and then
his voice rang out with the stern command:

**Stop the engines! Lower the boats and
rescue that man. Quick! there is no time to
spare.’’

In less than a moment it seemed to the
lads the cutters were in the water filled with
sailors eager to do their duty. Mr. Hunger-
ford sprang into the first, and was soon
being urged toward the burning bark. As
his boat reached that containing the boys,
he steered alongside, and hurriedly bade
them change from the battered yawl. They
obeyed at once, and were greeted witha
hearty pressure of the hand.

‘‘Thank Heaven you are safe and sound !”’
exclaimed the young scientist, kindly. ‘‘I
thought you had been lost in that dreadful
gale. We were blown away, and forced to
skirt the edge of this sea.’’

‘‘Was the cutter picked up?’’ eagerly
asked Jim.

‘“Yes, and all hands saved. What a won-
derful thing this is, the simultaneous dis-
covery of you lads and the Storm King. Do
you know anything about the man, and how
he got in here?’’

In a few brief words, Jim explained their
experience with the maniac, the other de-
tails being left until a more opportune mo-
ment. Mr. Hungerford listened with deep
interest. At its conclusion he urged his men
to renewed efforts.

‘¢‘We must rescue him,’’ he said. ‘‘Poor
fellow, his brain has been turned by bis ter-
rible experience, No wonder. Think of
being cast away in a place like this.’’

To the young scientist’s credit be it noted
that he did not think once of the valuable
document and the ten thousand pounds re-
ward. His first and only desire was to save
the threatened life of the mysterious lunatic.

The distance to the derelict from the spot
where the boys were picked up was not
more than two bundred yards. This was
soon covered by the cutters, but, as rapidly
as they moved through the water, the dart-
ing flames were faster.

The after deck beams, dried to a tinder
under the fierce rays of a semi-tropical sun,
offered fine material for the devouring ele-
ment. The after part of the vessel was a
roaring furnace when the boats dashed
alongside. The mizzen rigging stood out in
lines of fiery heat, and the upper mast
trembled with the force of the conflagration,

The maniac was still in the main rigging.
As the rescuing party mounted the side he
leaned over and greeted them with uncouth
gestures and incoherent cries.

‘‘Climb up after him,’’ ordered Mr, Hun-
gerford, hurriedly. ‘‘Some of you take the
starboard side. Handle him gently, but lose
no time.’’

Jim and Harold were with those in the
van. The ex-mascot darted up the ratlines
like a veritable monkey, and soon found
himself in advance of his companions. On
gaining a spot several feet below the poor
lunatic, he paused slightly, and then reached
out one hand, grasping the man by the
right leg.

There was a brief struggle, a shrill cry
echoed through the ship, then, with a vio-
lent effort, the maniac wrenched himself
free from Jim’s detaining hands. Crouching

 

brawny sailors. They moved to Jim’s assist
ance just in time. As they scrambled up
and caught the unfortunate man he was on
the point of throwing himself down into the
fiery furnace below.

The return to the deck was made under
difficulties, but the party finally reached thé
cutters. Quickly the word was given to
shove off, and before the boats had barely
cleared the side the mizzenmast fell with @

‘thunderous crash, sending sparks and_ bura-

ing brands in all directions.

Mr. Hungerford had managed to secure @
piece of rope, and with this the arms and
legs of the lunatic were fastened. He seemé
to be exhausted, and remained in the bot-
tom with eyes closed, apparently oblivious
to his surroundings,

‘*It is well worth coming even this far t0
save a human life,’’? remarked the young
scientist. ‘‘I am sorry we could not find thé
document, as the happiness of that young
man in England depends upon it, but fate
willed it otherwise. This poor fellow mus6
have started the fire, I presume?’’

**No doubt, sir,’’ replied Jim. ‘‘The ap-
pearance of the yachts probably excitéd
him. What a pity we didn’t find that paper,
sir. To think that we discovered the derelict
and then lost the very thing we were after.”’

As be uttered the words he glanced dis-
consolately toward the doomed bark. Shé
was now a mass of flames from the bowsprif
aft to the counter. The roaring of the con-
flagration drowned all other sounds, and thé
heat, even as far as the cutters had pro-
gressed, was unpleasant.

Propelled by the sturdy arms of the sail-
ors, the boats speedily gained the Starling:
The boys: were met at the gangway by thé
venerable skipper, who gave them a hearty
greeting. His face, however, denoted that
he had important tidings, and evidently of
a serious nature.

‘‘T’ve had a man aloft, sir,’’? he said, ad-
dressing Mr. Hungerford, ‘‘and he reports

that the channel shows signs of closing. |

The other yacht must have made the samé
discovery, as she is under full steam head-
ing down the lane.’’

This was grave news indeed. The drifting
together of the thick, tenacious masses of
sea-weed would result in the detention of
the yacht for an indefinite period. This was
to be guarded against by all means. Giving
orders to place the lunatic under guard, the
young owner hurried to the bridge, followed
by the captain and the boys.

The Diablo was in plain sight toward th
north. A dense column of smoke pouring
from her funnel indicated that she was being
driven at her utmost speed. It did not take
more than a casual glance to prove that the
channel was really narrowing. In somé
places astern of the Diablo the masses 0
weed were within fifty feet of each other.
Little time was lost in turning the Starling,
and within a very few moments she was
speeding down the lane in the wake of thé
other yacht.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
CAPTAIN DARROW MAKES A DISCOVERY.

   

“HERE were anxious hearts and gravé
2 faces on the Starling as she swept
tL’ through the waters in her flight

’ toward the outer edge of the Sargass0
Sea. All realized the terrible danger threat-
ening them, and it can well be believed
there were few laggards on deck or in the
stoke hole.

A group formed of Mr. Hungerford, thé
captain, and the two lads were upon thé
bridge watching the relentless closing chan-*
nel which led to safety. Astern the Storm
King burned merrily, the flames leaping up
in fiery sheets. A thick cloud of. smoké,
sparkling with glowing cinders, stretched
overhead like a pall.

Ever aud anon Jim would turn and
watched the conflagration. The failure 0
the expedition on the very eve of success
was terribly disappointing to him. He had
set his heart on finding the document.

‘*That’s a costly fire,’’ he said, with 4
deep sigh. ‘‘We can reckon that it means
the loss of ten thousand pounds, anyway:
It’s a blamed pity.’’

“It strikes me that we will be only t0?
glad to escape from here with our lives,’
replied Harold, dryly.

‘‘That is true,’’? coincided Mr. Hunger
ford, gravely. ‘‘Tbe channel seems to D8
closing marvelously fast. Look at that spot
just astern of the Diablo. It is quite cover
with the sea-weed. Jove! this isa race for
one’s life of a verity.’’

As the yacht shot past the Southern Cros
Jim waved his hand in farewell. The string
of flags was still flying from the halliards
and a faint trace of smoke hovered over t
wrecked galley in which Harold had left ®
fire for supper.

In the course of an hour the Starling w#* |

steaming through a thin covering of wee
Ahead the channel had entirely disappeare®
but astern it was still open in places. ; Y
the group upon the bridge were watching
the efforts of the Diablo she was seen
stop suddenly. .

‘*What is the matter?”? said Mr. Hunge?,
ford, leveling his glass, ‘‘Ah, somethi?
must be wrong. I see Captain Darrow ru!
ning to the engine-room. She must be di§

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’ *'Cricky ! can that be possible?’’ exclaimed
im, his eyes sparkling. ‘‘I hope it is so, as
ne noble captain will be compelled to sue
Or aid. It’ll simply break his heart.’
‘It will mean a serious delay to us,’’
avely replied the young scientist. ‘‘As
tters stand, we have not a moment to

Are. But,’’? he added, with decision, ‘‘we

ust help them come what will.’?

This generous resolution had hardly been
ered when a signal soared aloft to the

ablo’s masthead. It consisted of four

Iti-colored flags, and was evidently ar-

Tanged according to the international code.

he Starling’s skipper feverishly reached
the book and translated the signal.

‘It is as you thought,’’ he said, with

Mething like a groan. ‘‘It says: ‘Have

Noken crank-shaft. Totally disabled. Stand
us.’ Now what do you think of that? To
p and take off her crew will mean a de-
4y of a half-hour. In that time the channel
fan close up tighter than a drum.’’
‘We will save them, nevertheless,’’ re-
Pied Mr. Hungerford,. imperturbably.
low down when you near the Diablo, and
n alongside. It will not be necessary to
he boats.”’
A group of sailors standing under the
ge bad overheard the decision. They
ized that it meant a perilous delay, and
Hey commenced to murmur. Several started
rward to cousult the rest of the crew.
‘His did not escape the young owner’s
tchful eye.
‘Jim,’’ he said, quietly, ‘‘go to my state-
Om and look in the upper drawer of the

tionary locker. You will find four revol-
‘s there. Bring them, with ample ammu-
Hition,’?

the ex-mascot was only too pleased with
errand. As he hurried down the ladder

Caught himself chuckling at the prospect

ascrimmage. The recollection of his new

e@ eed him to promptly administer self-

duke,

‘This won’t do, Jim,’’ he said, severely.
e time when you could enjoy a scrap is

It is your duty now to prevent fight-
if possible.’’

fhe words were not uttered with any

eat amount of enthusiasm, it must be

hfessed. On returning to the bridge the
found fully half of the Starling’s crew
thered forward. They were just in the act

Sending one of their number to the young

her. The object of the envoy was fore-

led, however. Leaning over the forward

l of the bridge, Mr. Hungerford ,called

ut in a voice totally free from passion :

‘*Men, come here. I see that you are not
sed with my determination to save the
w of the other yacht. Is that what you

“It is, sir,’’ boldly replied a grizzled
or, stepping out from his mates. ‘‘As we
derstand the situation, we are in a tight
» and it is going to take an almighty lot
hustling to free ourselves from this infer-
lhole. If we stop to rescue them sharks,
t has. tried their best todo us, we’ll
bably be lost. Now I for one don’t be-
Ve we have any call for to doit. What
Y, mates?’?
chorus of approval came from the group
Seamen. Several began to mutter, but
Sy were cut short by Mr. Hungerford.
lly producing his revolver, he said,

rnly :

“Iam ashamed of you, men. I cannot

leve that you would deliberately forsake
an beings in distress. I tell you now

At such unnatural proceedings will not be

mitted on board the Starling as long as I

1 the owner. I intend to save the Diablo’s
, and that is all there is about it. Go

'ward and obey orders.’’

Nhe determined words had an immediate
t. Jack afloat is like the proverbial
p. He quietly follows where others lead.

Me of the men growled in their beards,
they broke up and scattered about the
t. A few moments later thé Starling
alongside the Diablo, and preparations

made to transfer the grew.

“aptain Darrow was on the bridge. He
Jost his habitual air of insolent bravado,
Called out pleadingly as the two vessels
© together:

“You will not leave ts in here, will you? | _

' Yacht is totally disabled. The channel is
dly closing, and to be caught here will

' -8n » horrible death.’’
y,.Come on board,’ briefly replied the
g owner. ‘‘Make haste. There is nota
ent to spare.’’ ;
S soon as the yachts touched, the Diablo’s
Y poured over the rail like rats deserting
ing ship. Some carried their belong-
but the majority were content to leave
othing save the clothes in which they
Soon as the last man had left the dis-
craft the Starling’s engines were
d ahead at full speed, and the race for
ty was resumed. For a while the rescued
’ huddled together on the after deck,
& common cause soon made them
€rnize with their rivals. Captain Dar-
Was called to the bridge by Mr. Hun-
ord, who extended to him a more or less

 

ahd darkness soon began to fall. This was
certainly calculated to render the escape
much more difficult. Fortunately the Star-
ling carried two powerful search lights, and
these were prepared for use.

A few moments before dark Jim, who was
still upon the bridge with the others,
chanced to glance aft. As he did soa man
stepped from the cabin companion-way, and
stood staring about him in evident bewilder-
ment. One look at the tawny, straggling
beard and the ragged clothing told Jim that
it was the mysterious stranger rescued from
the burning derelict.

That he had escaped from his guard was
made apparent by the sudden appearance of
that individual through the companion-way.
He attempted to seize his prisoner, but the
latter evaded his grasp and hurried forward.
Just as Jim called the attention of his com
panions to the circumstances the man scram-
bled up the ladder to the bridge.

Attracted by the commotion, Captain
Darrow glanced around. His eyes fell upon
the lunatic’s face, and he started back with
a hoarse cry of amazement. Holding out his
wide-spread hands as if warding off a blow,
he said, in almost a whisper:

‘‘That man, that—am I dreaming! Itisa
ghost! It is a ghost! Take him away, or
TP’ll:go mad!??

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

—_—_>+~»_—-

CS Ff Lan)
Qur §TAMP ‘ALBUM.

eee ne

We promised to give our readers some of
the other prices paid for United States
stamps, and here are a few which can be de-
pended on; that is, if the stamps are abso-
lutely perfect and free from paper.

Buying”

Value.
5c. brown,
10c. black,
Ie. blue,
5e. brown,
10c. green,
12c. black,
le. blue,
1c. blue, (broken circle),
5c. brown, ;
5¢e. brown, (center ornament on
top and bottom cut off),
10c. green,
12¢c. black,
24c. lilac,
30c. orange,
90c, blue,
1c. blue,
8c. pink,
5c. brown,
10c. green,
12c. black,
24c. lilac,
80c. orange,
90c. blue,
2c. black,
8c. scarlet,
5c. chocolate,
15e. black,
24c. mauve,
8c. rose, (grilled all over),
8c. rose, (grilled 18x16 and 11x
13 mm.), :
Grilled 9x13 and 11x13 mm. :
le. blue,
2e. black,
5c. brown,
10c. green,
12c. black,
15¢. black,
24e. violet,
80c. orange,
90c. blue,
Grilled 91¢x91¢ mm.:
le. buff,
2c. brown,
6c. blue,
10c. orange,
12c. green,
15¢e. brown and blue, (no dia-
mond), ,
15c. brown and blue, (with dia-
mond),
24¢. green and purpk,
80c. blue and carmine,
90c. black and carmine,
Grilled 91¢x111¢ mm.:
le. blue,
2c. brown,
- 6c. pink,
Ye. vermilion,
10c. brown, ©
12¢c, purple,
oo orange,
c. purple,
80e. Clack;
90c. carmine,
Grilled 84¢x101¢ mm.*
ie. blue,
2c. brown,
“We. vermilion,
12¢c. purple,
15c. orange,
24c. purple,
80c. black
90c. carmine,
5e. blue,
6c. red, |
8c. vermilion,
4c. carmine,
30¢. puce- brown,
90c. purple,

Issue.

Price.
1847, é

1851-54,

1855-60

1862-66,

-30
10.00

1869,

.

.

« X _ a
DP OW OP

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4653

 

‘¢Please
At-

C. R., Canaan, N.. H., writes:
tell me the value of the 10c. Power of
torney and the 10c. Inland Exchange.”’

The first is worth le., and the second Ic.
if perforated, and $1 if not.

ae * * *

Carl A. Mittell, Buffton, 8. C., writes: ‘‘I
have a stamp the size of which is about
1x7-8 in. The color is brown, and is on white
In the upper part of the stamp is a
semi-circle, with the word ‘Helvetia’ inside
of it. Inside this, a little below, is a cross
which is white. The word‘ Franco’ is on both
sides, as well as the top. Please tell me if
this is a rare stamp, and to what country it
belongs.’

Your stamp belongs to Switzerland, and as
we do not know of any such stamp of a
brown color, we think it must be the 5c.
claret. It is worth, without silk threads, Ic.
if used, and 8c. if unused. With silk threads,
85c. if used, and 60c. if unused.

* * * *

C. E. Johnson, Boston, Mass., writes:
‘*Please tell me bow much the 3c. blue loco-
motive stanip of the 1875
has been used. Please tell me how much this
stamp is worth: It is of the 1859 issue of
Trinidad, is of a carmine-red color, is per-
forated 1214, and is unused. There is no face
value.’

Your 3c. stamp is worth about $3.50. If
your Trinidad stamp is pin-perforated it is
one we could not set the value on until we
could examine it. If it is the original car-
mine-red, with regular perforations, we
should also have to see it. If it is the (1d.)
lake, it is worth 25c., if unused worth 90c.

* * * *

T. Brennan, New York city, writes:
‘*Please tell me what is the value of the in-
closed stamips?’’

The lot is worth 30c.

* * * *

Jacob Grunstein, New York city, writes:
‘‘Can you tell me if the inclosed Bremen
stamp is genuine? What do you think I could
get for it if I wished to sell it?’’

Your stamp is genuine, and would se]l for
about $1.

* 2 *

W. Brooks, Paterson, N. J., writes: ‘If
I am not asking too much of you, will you
please tell me the value of the inclosed
stamps? You will notice that there is a light-
blue and a dark-blue 1c. and a light-red and
a dark-red 2c. among the United States
stamps. The light colors each have a smalk
triangle in each of the upper corners, while
the dark ones do not. What varieties are
these?’’

‘Your entire lot of stamps would sell for
about 5e. The light shades of the United
States belong to this issue, and the dark to
the 1890-93 issue.

- * * *

David Alexander, Henderson, Ky., writes:
‘<Please find inclosed seven United States
stamps from my collection. What is the lot
valued at?”’

Your stamps are worth Ic. each.

* * * *

Ray Bartlett, Holyoke, Mass., writes: ‘‘I
inclose three different United States stamps.
Please tell me what issue they are and what
they are worth.’

No. 1 is the 3c. of 1855-60 and worth 2c.
No. 2 is the 8c. of 1861 and worth 1c. The
other 8c. stamp is of 1869 and worth 2c.

* * * *

Great efforts are being made to establish a
postal service between a guano field some
nine miles in circumference, about 750 miles
south-west of Acapulco and 1,800 miles from
the United States, called the Chippertow
Island. A recent San Francisco publication
says this island belongs to the Oceanic Phos-
phate Company, for which W. Frese & Co.,
of San Francisco are agents. At certain times
the company have as many as 200 men con-
stantly at work, and it is principally to ac-
commodate them that this mail service is be-
ing pushed into existence. Mr. Frese freely
admits that the idea is to give the company
he represents a revenue for carrying the mail
of its employees back and forth, which
amounts to fully $15 on a single trip. In fur-
therance of this project, negotiations have
been opened with the United States postal
department for a regular service between |
the Oceanic Phosphate Company and this
country. A series of stamps have already
been issued by this company, of ten denomi-
nations, from 1c. to $1. A proposition has
been presented at Washington by which these
stamps shall be available for such service.
from this island to any part of the United
States, to be used on any goods allowed to
pass through the mails. A great deal of curi-
osity is evinced by collectors and dealers
alike as to whether this will be perfectly
ee in every respect, or whether it is a
scheme on the company’s part to create a
new set of stamps, of which the aggregate
value is $2.08, to sell to philatelists, who
number many thousands in this country
alone. Several societies have taken the mat-
ter in hand, and it is the general opinion

issue is worth. It};

is variously described as blue-black or black-
blue. Now and then a very dark specimen
will be found, which is discolored, bus the
real article, which sells for from three to five
dollars, is clear and distinct, and collectors
and dealers believe the next catalogue will
place it as a separate variety.
* * * *

Collectors should examine their canceled
Hamburg stamps, and see if they have any
with a star on each side. This cancellation is
bogus, the real and only original postmark
was a plain cancellation, without any such
stars.

In January, 1879, the Egyptian postal
authorities surcharged the remainder of their
216 piastre stamps with a nuimeral, 5 and 10
in the center. These surcharges are generally
supposed to have been printed on account of
the 24¢ pees seldom being used.

* *

Several letters remain to be answered.
—___—__—-9_e____—.
[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. ]

IN BARRACKS AND WIGWAM:
The Young Recruit of te Seventh Cavalry.

BY WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON,
Author of “The White King of Africa,’ ‘‘Jungles
and Traitors,” ‘Exiled to Siberia,” ete.

(“IN BARRACKS AND WiIGWAM” was commenced
in No. 283. Back numbers can be obtained of all
News Agents.)

CHAPTER XXV.
LURED TO DESTRUCTION.

<INN could not doubt the meaning of

the shot and the bugle-blast, and with

==/ a face from which nearly every ves-

G@-” tige of color had fled, he waited in

the saddle for his two skirmishers to join

him. But he was cool and clear-headed

enough—so much so that his older and more

experienced men—who were themselves not

a little seared—were struck by their young
officer’s brave demeanor. .

The trumpeter was the first to reach the
party, and as he checked his steed with a jerk,
he uttered the single word ‘‘Indians.’’ '

Just then Reily came dashing up.

‘‘We're trapped, corporal,’’? he cried,
hoarsely. ‘‘The whole Sioux nation is clos-
ing in onus. They fired at me from long
range, and it was a darned good shot, too,

I heard the ball whistle.’’

‘Where are they??? demanded Linn..‘‘And
how many? Come, men, we must do our best ~~
to get away. The way by which we came is
open yet, and if we make a rapid dash——’’

‘*Too late!’’ shouted Grant. ‘‘There they .
are Look there, and there, and back yon- |

er {? js ‘

It was too true, and what the men now
saw as they glanced around them was enough
to sicken the stoutest heart. The low, open
valley was at least. six hundied yards wide,
and the crests of the two ridges seemed sud-
denly to grow alive with Indians. On foot
and on horseback they started into sight,
outlined sharply against the gray sky-line.
Back behind the troopers—in the direction
that led to safety and the main column—the ©
braves were swarming down: into the valley
from both sides.

‘*This is terrible,’’ groaned Linn, ‘‘but it’s
not my fault. I took all the precautions I —
could.’’

‘“That’s right, corporal,’’ cried Privat
Stokes. ‘‘You’re not to blame.’’ (OR:

‘*Of course not,’’ echoed Grant. ‘‘Yousent —
Reily and me to reconnoiter on both flanks,
and the major himself would have done no
more with so small a party. But I swear I -
don’t know where the Sioux came from. ©
They must have been lying low in the little |
te and bushes beyond the ridge to the
right. aitcnaes

‘*And it was the same way over on the
left,’’ cried Reily. ‘‘The devils let us ride _
well past before they showed themselves. It —
was a cleverly planned trap, and that smoke _
was meant to lead us into it.’? _ ae

‘*And we're in sure enough,’’ said a —
trooper, while two others long and loudly
cursed Captain Norman. aT ea

‘*None of that, men,’’ Linn sternly com-.
manded. ‘‘This is no time for blame or cen-
sure. We’re in a bad scrape, and | confess I
don’t see much show for saving our scalps.
But if there’s any chance at all it’s to make
a dash for the ravine, and find a sheltered
place where we can stand a siege till help —
comes. I know I was ordered not to enter,
but under these cireumstances——’? _ cae

‘‘There may be more of the devils hidden
up in there, sir,’’ interrupted Dawnay, one
of the oldest of the troopers, ‘‘and they’d |
like nothing better than to lure us in among
the rocks and timber, where we wouldn’t even
be. able to fire a decent shot. They know
that if we make a stand here a lot of them

 

that these stamps will be ‘‘tabooed’’ by a‘
great number.
*

* * afi |

‘There is a three-penny Nova Scotia stamp
which is not catalogued, and collectors would
do well to procure one of them if possible:be-

-50 fore the next catelogue is issued. Thisstamp luring the whole troop into the trap. N

‘4

will bite the dust before they finish us.”?? __

_**But in the end every man of us will be
shot,’’ replied Linn. ‘‘The ravine isthe only
hope, whether there are more Indians there -
or not. In one way their plan has miscar-
ried, for I have no doubt they counted on —
Now

 
 

 

 

4654

 

CHOI)

 

that they have only got part of us, they

can’t help but know that the rest of the de-

tachment will come to our relief. If we can
find good shelter and hold it for a few hours,
we’ll be all right.’’

‘¢Tt will take more than a few hours,’’
muttered Grant. ‘*‘What can the troop do
with such a horde? It will need the whole
column.’’

During the brief time that this conversa-
tion was going on, and while the little hand-
ful of troopers sat huddled in the saddle, the
Sioux had gathered more thickly on both
ridges. Now those who had poured down into
the valley from behind began to ride for-
ward, yelling and whooping at the top of
their voices.

As yet the braves on the two crests sat
quietly looking on, and without making any
move to descend the slopes. The heads of
their two lines reached only to points oppo-
site the troopers, and this fact—the leaving
of a line of retreat open—indicated pretty
clearly that they wanted to lure the little de-
tachment into the ravine.

So it appeared to Linn, and at this.trying
moment the young corporal thought far less
of his own danger than of the responsibility
that rested on his shoulders. His duty was
not to think of himself, but to do his utmost
to save his men.

‘*We can’t be worse off in the ravine than
here,’’ he said, after a brief hesitation, ‘‘and
we may find shelter there. I’m going to take
the chances, men.’’

Half a dozen voices warmly approved this
plan, and at the word of command the troop-
ers spurred their horses to a gallop and
dashed up the remaining part of the open
valley.

The whole horde of surrounding Sioux now
began to yell with well simulated anger, pre-
tending to fear that their victims were about
to escape. Those behind rode on at the top
of their speed, firing shot after shot. The In-
dians on the two ridges numbered several
hundred, and these took good care to let the
troopers get well past them. Then, from
right and left they came diagonally down
the slopes in pursuit, whooping and screech-
ing, and emptying their rifles in one inces-
sant volley.

Faster and faster sped the little detach-
ment, with the bullets whistling on all sides
of them. In the first hundred yards of the
race no one was hit, and soon the low, bare
ridges to right and left rose up to meet the
wooded and rocky heights of the two mount-
ainous peaks. Between the latter, and grate-
fully near at hand, yawned the deep, dark
gorge, it’s trough choked with timber and
bushes except for a narrow belt on both sides
of a tiny stream that trickled through the
middle.

But now the yelling Sioux were pressing
close on the rear, and scures of rifles were
flashing and cracking. At the very mouth
of the ravine two of Linn’s men fell simul-
taneously, and as the party halted it was
seen that the poor fellows were dead.

There was no time to save their scalps. The
troopers wheeled about, and with cool aim
fired a volley that staggered the foe, and
brought more than one brave out of the sad-
dle. Another volley, and then they went gal-
loping clumsily up the ravine, leaving the
dead behind.

The horses slipped and stumbled in the bed
of the stream and on the rugged banks, and
Linn soon gave the order to dismount. Ina
trice the men were out of the saddle, and
after two more volleys, they pushed on in
search of shelter. A lively fire was poured
into them by the hotly pursuing Indians.
Two horses fell, and an instant later Private
Drew was shot through the hip and lungs.
His comrades dragged him along until he
breathed his last, and then they dropped
him. The men were now half crazy with
rage, and as they stumbled on up the gloomy
ravine, they kept firing back with such
deadly effect that the Sioux were held at a
distance.

‘*This is awful,’’ cried Linn. ‘‘I don’t see
any hope for us. All we can do is fight to
the last and die like soldiers.”’

‘*We’ll do that, sir,’’? shouted Dawnay, as
he aimed his carbine. ‘‘Give it to ’em, com-
rades,’’

‘*Be on your guard, corporal,’’ said the
trumpeter, as he pushed forward alongside of
Linn. ‘‘I’m afraid there’s an ambush ahead.
I wouldn’t venture much farther.’’

‘*We’ve got tc find shelter, if it’s a possi-
ble thing,’’ Linn replied. ‘‘I won’t give up
hope, Grant. We’ll push on a bit yet,
and——’’

‘*Yonder is a likely spot, sir,’’ interrupted
Reily. ‘*What do you think of it?’’

He pointed tq the rugged and pine-covered
cliff that rose a hundred and fifty feet in air
beyond the intervening slope of scrub, sap-
lings, and loose stones on the right of the
gorge. Ten feet above it’s base was what
looked to be a natural and jutting parapet,
with a roomy recess behind it extending un-
der the overhanging ledges above.

‘*It’s not a bad place, from what we can
see of it ’’ cried Linn. ‘‘If we can once get
up there in safety——’’

As he spoke a savage burst of yells rang
from the thicket twenty feet up the stream,
and from that hidden ambush a score of
rifles were fired at the unsuspecting little
party. Private Harris dropped dead, shot

CHAPTER XXVI.

A GALLANT DEFENSE.

MHIS unexpected fire, which showed
that foes were in front as well as be-
hind, almost demoralized the troopers.
As the smoke drifted down on them
they huddled together in confusion, not
knowing which way to turn, and seeing no
enemies to shoot at. Linn alone retained his
presence of mind, and was equal tothe emer-
gency. His voice rang clearly above the
whooping of the Indians and the neighing
and trampling of the frightened horses.

‘*Steady there, men,’’ he cried. ‘‘Wait
till the smoke lifts, and then give them a
volley in front. Now’s your chance—fire
where you see the bushes move,’’

The corporal’s command was _ instantly
obeyed. The smoke had partly risen, reveal-
ing the thicket where the Sioux lay in am-
bush. The Indians were reeklessly showing
themselves here and there amid the bushes,
and with cool and steady aim, the troopers
fired shot after shot.

This rather staggered the foe, and the in-

 

og

damage. Then the thick smoke settled down
along the channel of the stream, and fora
moment the combatants were hidden from
one another’s view. Linn turned to look
toward the mouth of the gorge, and a rapid
glance showed him that the main body of
the Sioux were coming on swiftly.

‘*Now’s “our chance, men,’’ he
‘*A quick dash will save us. Make
rocky ledge up yonder on the cliff.
forget the wounded—take them along.
lead the way, Dawnay. Grant and
cover the rear.”’

No time was lost in executing this order.
Harris was dead, and the body was left
where it had fallen. The two wounded, Bent
and Hiester, were picked up as nee. as
the hurried flight would permit. Léd by
Dawnay, the little handful of troopers
plunged into the tangle of stones and bushes
to the right of the stream and scrambled in
hot haste for the cliff. ,

The ambushed Indians were now tumbling
out of cover twenty feet up the valley, and
half a hundred yelling braves were swarm-
ing forward from the opposite direction. The
abandoned horses were galloping this way
and tbat through the scattering curls of
smoke.

Linn and the trumpeter had halted on the
edge of the bushes, and they took in the
situation at a glance. Each fired three or
four shots out of his carbine at the approach-
ing foes, and then they turned and vanished
in the thicket.

For the present they were safe, though the
bullets whistled thickly around them. With
great strides, they leaped over stones and
through the scrub, and overtook their com-
rades at the base of the cliff.

For ten feet up to the place of shelter the
rock was sloping and afforded plenty of foot-
holds. Private Dawnay had already climbed
to the ledge, and without a thought of per-
sonal danger, he leaned down and took hold
of the two wounded men as they were pushed
up to him.

Meanwhile the fire of the Indians had
ceased, and they did not seem to be making
much of an effort to pursue. As yet they had
not observed the ledge, nor did they suspect
the purpose of the troopers. Evidently they
believed that the little party were making a
last stand in the bushes, and could be picked
off and slaughtered at leisure.

So, with Dawnay’s aid, the two wounded
men were hauled up to the ledge and put out
of harm’s way. Then the rest started to fol-
low, and just at that instant the Sioux down
in the open caught sight of them and saw
what was intended.

A score of rifles began to crack, and as
the troopers swarmed nimbly up the face of
the rock they found themselves under a
heavy fire. But so quick were their move-
ments, that all gained the ledge in safety
except Private Willson. He, poor fellow, was
shot through the head and body just as he
reached the top. With his death-cry on his
lips, he fell backward, landing heavily in the
bushes below.

‘¢He’s past help,’’ shouted Linn. ‘‘We’ve
got enough to do to look out for ourselves
now, men. Drop down and keep out of
sight,’

The panting and breathless troopers sank
on their hands and knees, but not to remain
long inactive. The first glance around showed
them that they possessed a most admirable
place of defense. They were on an oblong
platform about twelve feet long by eight in
width, which reached back like a cavern
under the overhanging face of the cliff. The
front of it was semi-circular in shape, and
was protected all along it’s open edge by ¢
natural parapet of rock about a foot anda
half high.

This parapet was broken in several places,
and the first thing the men did was_ to stop
up the gaps with some loose slabs of stone
that lay within reach. Then they loaded
their carbines and crouched warily under
cover, peeping down into the valley through
what tiny crevices they could find.

The firing had now ceased, and not an In-

shouted.
for the
Don’t

I will

termittent volley that they sent back did no |

You |

 

dian was to be seen along the trough of the
ravine—which was in plain view. Several of
the horses were wandering aimlessly about,

 

through the head, and two others were
wounded,

and an incessant movement of the bushes on

  
  

NEW S.

the farther side of the stream told that the
Sioux were creeping up the valley in force.
Drew and Harris lay among the rocks where
they had fallen, and even at this distance it
could be seen that the bodies of the poor fel-
lows had been scalped. It was a maddening
sight, and the troopers forgot their own peril
in a thirst for vengeance.

‘«The devils are moving thick over yonder
in the bushes,’’? muttered Dawnay. ‘‘If we
open a steady fire we’re sure to drop a few
of ’em. What do you say, sir?’’

‘*No, it won’t do,’’ replied Linn. ‘‘Don’t
waste any cartridges. We may need them
all before long.’’

‘‘That’s right, sir,’’? said Grant. ‘‘This
quiet means mischief. The Sioux are bound
to have our scalps, and it won’t be their
fault if they don’t get them.’’

For the next half-hour there was no change
in the situation. The stillness of
brooded over the valley, except for the low
murmur of the stream. A drizzling rain fell
from the murky clouds, and the thick, gray
mist drooped lower and lower.

Linn’s thoughts were as gloomy as the
scene around him. He knew that he and his
comrades had but aslim chance for their
lives, and he: realized vaguely that in the
event of a rescue there would be trouble of
another sort in store for him,

‘*T’m not to blame for what has happened,”’
he reflected, ‘‘but it won’t be easy to clear
myself. I obeyed orders as long as it was
possible to do so, and then I had to assume
the responsibility of entering the gorge. If I
hadn’t done that every man of us would be
lying dead and scalped now. I half believe
that Captain Norman wanted me to get into
a scrape, and he’ll charge me with the death
of all these poor fellows. Instead of getting
a higher grade than corporal, I’m likely to
be reduced to the ranks.”’

The young officer certainly had cause to
feel heart-sick. Out of the twelve troopers
who had ridden away from the detachment
only five had escaped death or injury—Linn
himself, Trumpeter Grant, and Privates
Dawnay, Reily, and Pomfret. Two were
wounded, and five were dead. Harker and
Marsh lay at the mouth of the valley, Drew
and Harris lay down in the bed of the
stream, and the body of Willson was at the
foot of the cliff.

Of\the wounded, Bent’s case was hopeless.
The man was shot through the lungs, and
nothing could be done for him. He was lying
ina state of semi-consciousness in a far
corner of the ledge, groaning from time to
time and stirring restlessly, But Hiester was
only shot through the thigh, and the plucky
fellow had insisted on being placed behind
the parapet, where he could lift himself on
his elbow and shoot if his services should be
needed.

‘*Corporal, don’t look so down-hearted,’’
said Grant, who was lying next to the young
officer and had observed his dejection. ‘‘It’s
a pity we’ve lost so many brave fellows, but
the same thing has happened over and over
again. And the rest of us are safe enough.
This place is almost impregnable, and we can
hold it until help comes. There are six of us,
counting Hiester, and all good shots.’’

‘*T wasn’t thinking of that,’’ Linn an-
swered, wearily. ‘‘ You know——’’

‘*Yes, [ know what’s on your mind,’’ said
Grant. ‘‘Every one of us understands that
Captain Norman hates you, and you won’t
lack for witnesses to clear you if he dares to
charge you with blame. Why, it’s not your
fault at all. On the contrary, you’ve be-
haved like an old soldier, and the men are
astonished at your bravery and pluck. It’s
due entirely to you that any of us are alive
now. If any one gets hauled over the coals
it will be Norman himself. He had no busi-
ness to send out so small a party. A plain
case of negligence, I call it, and you can bet
your boots——”’

‘‘Corporal,’? Dawnay interrupted, in a
sharp whisper, ‘‘there’s a good deal of rust-
ling down yonder in the thicket. I reckon
the Indians have crossed the stream above
and below and then joined forces. We’re go-
ing to ketch it now, if I an’t mistaken.’’

‘Get ready, then, men,’’ Linn replied.
‘‘Hach one of you see that he has a loophole
to fire from. Are your rifles and pistols all
loaded?”?’

Every man answered yes, and before more
could be said the foe made a dash up the
wooded slope of the valley. To right and left
and in front the scrub grew alive with dusky,
squirming forms. With hideous yells at least
three score of painted warriors came leaping
to the very base of the cliff, eager for the
blood of the little party of troopers,

“Steady now,’’ cried Linn, ‘‘ Aim
and low. Fire!’’

Crash! Out blazed the rifle volley, and
more than one brave bit the dust. Crash!
Crash! Two more charges in quick succes-
sion plowed gaps in the dense. ranks of the
foe. They wavered and staggered,

‘Once more!’’ shouted Linn,

And as the cool and alert troopers rained
lead down the sloping rock, themselves pro-
tected by the parapet from the return fire,
the Sioux were fairly checked.

With hoarse cries of rage and anguish, the
baffled braves broke right and left, and went
back to the shelter of the stones and bushes,
dismayed to find themselves repulsed by a
mere handful of soldiers. A dozen dead and
wounded lay near the cliff, and those able to

well

stir were seen wriggling away like serpents. and the exercise keeps yeh warm.”’

death |

  

 

With hoarse cheers, the troopers rose reck-
lessly to their feet and emptied rifles and re
volvers after the fleeing foe. Then, at Linn’s
command, they dropped under cover agaill
in time to escape a volley from the Indians
who lay in ambush to right and left of thé
scene of action.

A brief lull followed, which gave the mea
time to reload. Then the infuriated Indians
made asecond attack, and in larger num
bers. They struggled desperately to swarm
up the face of the cliff, but all in vain. The
heavy and incessant fire from the loophole
of the parapet, poured slantingly down upol
them, was more than they could stand. With
aloss of nearly a score, they melted away
as quickly as they had come, and deep
silence settled on the gloomy gorge.

‘‘That was lively work,’’ said Dawnay, #8
he wiped his perspiring face, ‘‘and there ant
one of us hit.’’

‘‘T had a close shave,’’ replied Privat
Reily. ‘‘A bullet struck alongside of my
head and threw chips in my eyes.’’

part of my left arm,’’ added Private Pom
fret, ‘‘but it won’t keep me from firing.”
‘“‘Tt was a gallant fight, men,’’ said Lint)
‘‘and we should be thankful that we are @
| alive. I think we are safe now. The Indian

 

 

| lieve they will attempt another assault in@
| hurry.’’
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
—_—__> -+<+—___——
PAT COVERED HIM.

There was once an Irish soldier placed
sentry on a beach, with orders to walk be
tween two points, and to let no one pase
without the countersign, which for safety’

It seemed that they had forgotten all
about the tide, for when the corporal came
around with the relief guard, he discoveré
Patrick in the moonlight up to the waist 2
water.

‘¢Who goes there?’’ cried Patrick.

‘¢Relief,’’? shouted the corporal.

‘¢ Advance thin,’’ cried the delighted Irisby
man. ‘‘Advance and give the countersign.

‘‘Advance! I’m not going there to b@
drowned. Come out and be relieved.’’ 3

‘‘T mustn’t; the lieutenant tould me J
wasn’t to stir from my post till I was r@
lieved.’

‘‘Then,’’ replied the corporal, beginning
to move off, ‘‘1’ll leave you there all night.

leveling his musket. ‘‘Halt! or I’ll put #
hole in ye; them’s my orders. No one is
pass without the countersign, and it’s to
| given in a whisper.”’
| There was no help for it.
The shivering corporal had to wade out.
> 6 oe
HIS TIME WAS COME.

In one of the Western States, where thé
Indians were giving considerable trouble @
the settlers, there lived a man whose T@
ligious views were peculiar. Notwithstan@™
ing, he was a shrewd old fellow, and able to
render a good account of himself.

One of this man’s pet doctrines was that
Fate ruled all, and nothing could happ&
but what was predestined. Every mat’)
birth and all the incidents of his life wel@)

time had come. fl
It was observed, however, that he nevé

taking his rifle along with him. One d&
one of his companions directed his attentio#
to this fact, and asked, if his doctrine W? 4
true, why did he not leave his rifle at hom" i
No Indian could do him injury, as it W8
time had come. t
The man admitted that that was so, DY
added, with much gravity: t
‘*You see, I might, on my journey, me ‘
with an Indian, and the Indian’s time mig)
be come. If so, it would never do not Md
have a rifle handy !”’
ek i ee
LINGUISTIC WHIMSICALITIES.

7

The Germans call the thimble ‘‘a fing?
hat,’’? and the grasshopper, ‘‘hay-hors®..7
A glove is termed a ‘‘hand shoe,’’ poultry) §
‘feather cattle,’’? while the names for ox) '
gen and hydrogen are respectively «sou
stuff’? and ‘‘water stuff.’” The French ba%
no verb‘‘to stand,’’ and are unable to sp? )
of ‘‘kicking’’ any one. The nearest appro
is to politely threaten ‘‘to give a blow W
the foot.’? Neither have they any word "7
express ‘‘home,’’ ‘‘¢omfort,’’ or ‘¢habyty >

4

=

;,

a
are also unknown. Italians have no equl¥

lent for ‘‘humility,’’ or the Hindoos ~.
‘*friend.’’? Chinese phrases read very que
thus cheese is known as ‘‘cow milk cake,
slippers are expressively termed “drag
shoes;’’ a cigar, ‘‘stick of smoke-leafi jj]
match, ‘‘self-come fire;’? and black te
appears, is called ‘‘thunder tea,’’

 

—_——__.¢— 9--@ —

 

Teacher—‘‘Can any of you tell me
flannel is comfortable in winter??? fh

Bright Boy (in new underwear),
makes yeh hitch about and wriggle 4

  

‘“‘And I’ve got a ball through the fleshy}

Goc

SPECI
NEWs ©
®Xcep tin,
NOtices, a
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Yertisenn:

Takr N
Tad Goo
SPonding ;

*0. Box,

Will c,
SPUDS Cun
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have been taught a lesson, and I don’t bey

sake was to be whispered. ,

‘*Begorra, you won’t!’’ shouted Patrick}

; De
lub will is

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eqpatful,
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Dg tation,
ie initiati
d Street,
r fh f you wa
You mo
; i 4 Club
By, hose join
an Want to
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» Duluth,

i \y ihsvhat gZ0
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prearranged, and no man could die till be

went out where the Indians were withoW i

impossible for any man to die before bee

| Mor gone
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jth Phi,

  
   
   
 

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The terms ‘‘up stairs’? and ‘‘down stall? 0G

  

for J,

  
  

  
 
  
  

   

   
    
 

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he? of a low

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nf DNEeE
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are @

pla
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forgotten 4
sorporal call

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able trouble ¥

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that he née

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CALITIES:

1imble

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ila fi

shoe,’’ poult?,
names for he
spectively ‘‘5

The French b®

. unable to §
nearest appro4.

Zive a
ley an
7? oY

blow

- word
y ‘¢paby
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shave no equi ;
the Hindoos.
read very gu
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termed ‘*

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you tell me

inter?’

underwear)

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DO

GooD NEWS.

 

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ele aii aleretta bil

are
eval

R. J. C., Malden, Mass.—A spirit thermometer con-
sists ofalong tube bentso asto form three parallel
branches, of which the central branch is an elongated
bulb, and the rest ofthe tube has a Capillary bore.
The lower portion of the bent tube contains mercury,
which rises in the two side branches to certain points,
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Center-board Jim, Uniontown, Pa.— The prin- |
cipal use of the bell on board ships is to denote the
time of the day or night, which isdone by one, two,
three, and so on, up to eight strokes ofthe bell. The
twelve hours between midnight and noon, or noon
and midnight, are divided into three portions of eight
bells each, the duration of time between bells being
half an hour. Consequently, during the course of
each twelve hours, the same number of strokes of
the bell will necessarily be used to denote three differ-
eut hours or periods of time, as follows:

1 bell at 12.30... 4.30... 8.30
2 bells‘ 1 a ga) ao
WE 080 aoe BIOS ave QOD
2 on0
. 10.30
‘ ‘apt jar ae
8.80 6 5 ¥/780-.:.:¢ 1L00
Bey iste . 12

Collector, Chicago, 11l.—The following is an ingen-
ious method to take impressions from coins: Melt a
little isinglass glue with brandy, and pour it thinly
over the metal, so as to cover its whole surface ; let it
remain for a day or two, until it has thoroughly dried’
and hardened, and then take it off, when it will be
fine, clear, and hard, and will havea very elegant
impression of the coin. It will also resist the effects
of damp air, which occasions all other kinds of glue

MD ke A eres 0 Oe are
‘¢ 2.30... » 6.80.
‘ ”

“

““c

 

 

to soften and bend if not prepared in this way. Ifthe

wrong side of the isinglass be breathed on, and gold- |
leaf applied, it will adhere, and be seen on the other |

side, producing a very pleasing effect. Isinglass glue
made with water alone will do nearly as well as if
brandy be used.

Don Kirk, Rankin, Pa.—1. Some of the serial stories
in Vol, 7. of GooD NEWS are: “Reuben Green’s Ad-
ventures,” ‘“The Secret Chart,’ “In Fort and Prison,”
“The Boy Gold Miner,’ “Dick Oakley,” ‘Ensign
Merrill,” ‘“‘Glim Peters,’’ and ‘Camera Bob.” 2. Vol. 7
begins with No. 157. 3. The best way to obtain Vol. 1
is to advertise for it in the exchange column.
4, Some of the stories in Vol. 1 are “Where He
Got His Money,”’ “Only an Irish Boy,” “A Sailor in
Spite of Himself,’ ‘“HisOwn Master,” ‘Enola, “The
Young Duck Hunters,” “‘Guy Harris the Runaway,’
and “Grit.” 5. Yes.

Nattie Grant, Kent, Ohio.—Carrier pigeons are a
larger species than the common pigeon. They have
a wattle extending half: over the bill, and hanging
down on both sides is a piece of white flesh, and this
is supposed to be connected with their properties as
carriers. Their eyes are also surrounded by a simi-
lar substance, and importance is attached to its width.
They were used by the ancients during sieges, and
many Eastern nations employ them.

Dat Coon’ Rastus, Central Village, Conn.—l. There
are places in New York where itis alleged that the
shape of the nose can be changed, scars removed, and
so forth, but we cannot recommend them. 2. You
are about the average in weight for a boy of your
years. Take plenty of exercise and keep yourself in
good condition is the best advice we can give you.
3. Your writing is good.

L. D. M., Altoona, Pa,—Piano keys, when they as-
sume a yellow hue, may be cleaned by being care-
fully rubbed with fine sand-paper. Another method
is to dilute nitric acid in soft water, in the proportion
of half an ounce of acid to five ounces of water. Ap-
ply this to the keys with a brush, and wipe off with
a flannel dipped in clean water.

J.O. U. A. M., no address.—1 .There is no pre-
mium on the cent of 1802. 2. Thé half-dollar of 1836
with milled edge is worth from $1.50 to $1.75, accord-
ing to condition. 3. The cent of 1812is worth three
cents, the cent of. 1804 from $2 to $3. 4. No premium
on the others. 5. In regard to the profession of den-
tistry, read recent ‘‘Short Talks.”

J. P. W., Keene, N. H.—A useful blacking for
boots may be made as follows: Take three ounces
of ivory black, two ounces of treacle, halfan ounce
of sweet oil, and half an ounce of vitriol. Add grad-
ually a quarter of a pint of vinegar and three-quar-
ters of a pint of water. Mix together into a paste.

. H. H., Saugatuck, Mich.—1. There is no premium
“on the nickel of 1888 you describe, or on the twenty-
cent piece of 1875. 2. We think the original of the
rubbing must be a medal or token of some kind, and
notacoin. We cannot find anything ayswering its
description. It may be valuable. /

A. L. 8., Honesdale, Pa.—l. You have probably al-
ready seen “Overhead Steve,’ which we think you
willlike. 2. The list of prize winners of the ‘Letter
O” contest is announced in this number. Were you
so near as you thought? 8. Thank you for your very
pleasant and appreciative letter.

F. 8S. H., Oneida, N. Y.—The treatment you receive
in the navy entirely depends under what description
of captain you serve. Some are kind-hearted and
humane men, Others coarse, rough bullies, petty ty-
aoe delighting in tormenting those placed beneath
them, >

Shorthand Tom, Lowell, Mass.—1. There is no pre-
mium on the half cent of 1809. 2. The cent of 1813 is
worth fifteen cents. 3. It would not be fair for us to
recommend any be tea club. Read the notices, and
select the one you think will suit you the best.

Reckless Charlie, Morgantown, W. Va.—The story
that a Russian countess left by will a large sum of
money to any one who would spend a year in her
tomb, is pure fiction. It was invented by some im-
aginative newspaper Man.

 

Refer to past numbers as to the ,

0. H. M.,Dunkirk, N. Y.—Certainly, a readers of
Goop News, whether subscribers or not are entitled
to the privileges of all the departments.

 

|

|

|

:

S. B., Salt Lake City, Utah.—Dumb-bells are excel
lent things for developing the muscles and strength-
ening the nerves. They should, however, be used
with moderation, and be light ones.

R. C. L., Columbus, Kan.—You must give your full
name in order to have your exchange printed.
Kindly correct notice and we shall be pleased to in-
sert it.

Mrs. C. S., Warren, Mass.—No such advertisement
has.appeared in Goop NEws. Haven’t you made a
mistake in the paper?

F. ZL. S., Cleveland, Ohio.—Mr. Sewall answerec
your questions in his ‘‘Short Talks” last week.

Linn, Portland, Me.—Mrs. Augusta Evans Wilson,
the novelist, lives in Mobile, Ala.

A. J. F., Chicago, I11.—You can guess as often as
you please.

[Several communications left over to be answered next
week, }

———__>-+——___——-

fy

at SS

E XCHANGE

ty

a

{IMporrant.—This column is f7ee to all our readers.
We will not be responsible for transactions brought
about through notices in this column. All offers must
be strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any

“for sale’ advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-armis, | . . a
| Del., has good exchange for a printing press.

explosives, dangerous or worthless articles. If exchange

notices do not appear in a reasonable time, it may be |
| understood that they were not accepted. Address al]

econununications ‘for this column to “Exchange De-
partment.”)} 2
READING MATTER.—W. Lienert, No. 28 Eaton
street, Buffalo, N. Y., has a book, entitled ‘‘Uncle
Tom’s Cabin,’ also a book, entitled ‘‘Marine Album,”’

either book to be exchanged for other reading matter,
|

or best offer. No trash wanted.

STAMPS. —Cuarles Henry, 2617 Franklin avenue’
St. Louis, Mo., will exchange five sheets of foreign
Nick Carter or other librs

has twenty-five libraries, books, etc., to exchange for

 

 

foreign or United States stamps, and thirty different |

foreign stamps for a 15c. Columbian.

STAMPS.—C. J. Doherty, 289 Adam street, Roch”
ester, N. Y., has to exchange 200 2c.
mixed stamps for 3c., 4c.,6c., 8c., 10c., 15c., 1894, not
water-marked; for a 90c. carmine of 1872, United

and foreign stamps for a 90c. orange of 1890, United
States.- Those starting, will find this a chance.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—A. F. Rhoades, care of L. Mayer,
Lexington, Mass., has a large quantity of Goop NEws
and other boys’ papers, in gdod congdition, to exchange
forawatch. Please state value.

READING
Lexington avenue, New York city, will give five 5-
cent libraries for every four sent him. Inclose stamp
for reply when questions are asked.

BOYS’ PAPERS.—Adolph Mathieu, P. 0. Box 5,104,
Boston, Mass., would like to exchange a volume of
boys’ papers for Scott’s postage stamp catalogue, 1895
issue.

CAMERA.—D. Hall, 8 Pearl street, Medford, Mass.,

United States |

 
 
  
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 

| avenue,
| picture), with tripod: complete outfit for making pic-
- ; | tures; Giant No. 1 self-inking press, and fonts of type
stamps, worth 85 cents a sheet; one sheet for every |; 0 4e ¢ Otek) 7 i .
; , os : ’ | (size 236x534) 2xchange st offer.
ies. Send stamp for answer. | (size of font 24x54), to exchange for best offer

PAPIKS PTC _E canes ss " } :
LIBRARIES, ETC.—E. 8. Benedict, Wilson, Conn., | 754 Santa Fe street, Denver, Col., has an electric mo-

| above.

els* Vol. XI, of Oliver Optic’s Cabinet; boys’ papers;
twenty foreign newspapers; Trappers’ Guide; tricks
with cards; book by Bill Nye, and Peck; some comic
papers, and some minerals, to exchange for best offer
in printing press, with or without type, or stamps from
Oceanica. Send for complete iist. All letters an-
swered.

READING MATTER.-—L. A. Stoddard, Washing-
ton C. H., Ohio, has $2.50 fine cloth-bound ‘Life of the
James Boys and Younger Boys’’ to exchange for
equal value of type in good condition. Send proofs,
etc., and inclose stamp for reply.

GOOD NEWS.—Geo. Heydenreich, 1034 Washing-
ton street, Hoboken, N. J., has Goop NEws 237 to 276,
inclusive, with or without binder, to exchange for
newsboy or other photos, or Vol. 1 Goop Nrws, or
strong microscope.

MISCELLANEOUS.—F. H. Doherty, 289 Adams
street, Rochester, N. Y., has 21,000 picture cards, 8,000
mixed stamps, also, stamps on sheets, two silver
watches, fifty novels, 100 illustrated papers (cost 10c.
each), twenty-five (all different) postals, and a large
list of other things, to exchange for old coins, Confed-
erate bills, medals, stones, shells, ores, bracket pat-
terns, cloth-bound books, and all kinds of woods and
trees. All letters answered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—H. S. Trim, 34 Walling street,
Providence, R. I., has boys’ papers, seven novels, six
song books, one $1 printing press (13-4x2 3-4), anda
font of type, two dozen codfish hooks, to exchange

for best offer.

PRINTING PRESS.—Geo. M. Saxton, Rising Sun,

MISCELLANEOUS.—Percy Stevenson, 750 W.
Main street, Decatur, Ill, has a number of articles to
exchange for an electric bell. Send for list. Also an
Odell typewriter to exchange for best offer.

PRINTING PRESS.—R. Telschow, Piermont-on-
Hudson, N. Y., has self-inking printing press (chase

| 6x9), and material to exchange for typewriter or tel-

egraphic goods.

CAMERA, ETC.—John McNamee, 809 Columbus
New York city, has camera, 4x5 (size of

ELECTRIC MOTOR AND BATTERY.—E. Burke,

tor to exchange for best offer. Inclose stamp.
STAMPS, ETC.—Chas. C, Rogers, 113 W. 15th street»
New York city, has just 750 varieties stamps (cata™
logued over $48), and ten sheets gummed paper to ex-
change for a typewriter, Columbian stamps, banjo, or

| autoharp; one sheet gummed paper, stamp album,
. a * 7 i. . | ifty ste S
States, he will also give thirty United States and for- | #24 fifty stamps (
nies 6 " 7) alike: als irtv Uni States | . . r » Cy :
eign stamps, no two alike; also thirty United States | letic papers, twenty-five novels, Vol. 6 Goon NEWS

$2
$2

catalogued over $2), for every 100 ab-
solutely perfect Columbians, above the 2c.; fifty phila-

(bound), and 7 and 8 unbound, for best offer; 2,500
mixed unused stamps from Switzerland (catalogued
over $125), to exchange for anything asked for in the
All letters answered by return mail if stamp

| is inclosed.

MATTER.—George ©. Crowley, 1358 |

has a good Harvard camera, with one bottle of toner, |

one pound of hypo., one dozen of plates, two dozen
mounts, one tray, one dozen of solo paper, and one

 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 

STAMPS, ETC.—Lewis C. Born, 91 Yonge street:
Atlanta, Ga., has fiftoen 5-cent novels to exchange for
the best offer in Columbian stamps (any number ex-

| changed); 100 foreign stamps for eighty-five 1c, and
2c. Columbians (not less than eighty-five taken); 100

stamps (all different) for every twenty-five Colum-
bians above the 2c.; thirty-seven running numbers of
a boys’ paper (one number missing), for best offer in

| Stamps.

MISCELLANEOUS.—J. F. Johnson, 83 Thornton
street, Boston, Mass., has Indian clubs, books, opera-
glasses, camera Lox, fountain pen, and various other

| articles to exchange for United States revenne stamps.

tripod for camera, to exchange for best offer in type. | :
| tohear from you.

Express paid on camera and outfit. All letters an-
swered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Bert E. Townsend, 7231 Lang-
ley avenue, Chicago, Ill., has two magazines, four
papers of Goop News, Nos. 262, 269, 270, and 279;

 
 
 

If you have any denomination, he would be pleased

STAMPS.—E. E. Irving, 240 31st street, Chicago,

| has twenty 10c. (1887 issue) stamps, in good condition,

a |

Chinese reader, a book by the name of “The Lime |

Kiln Club,” another—‘‘Magic Dick,” a game—Kome-
kel Kus, forty-five picture cards, forty-five packages
of court plaster (worth $1),to exchange for any volume

a bird’s eye view of the California Midwinter Inter-
national Exposition, San Francisco, 33x26 inches, and
a book, “Over the Alps,” to exchange for any volume

two volumes. Papers must be in good condition.

READING MATTER.—H. E. Von Keuren, 487
Cliriton street, Milwaukee, Wis., has thirty volumes
paper-cover books (25 cents to $1), eight numbers of
libraries (5 and 10-cent), and sixty-eight numbers of
magazines (total cost $28), to exchange for printing
press, self-inking, not less than 6x8 chase, and type,
or Vols. 1, 2, 3, 4,5, and 6 of Goop Nrws, and other
reading matter. Letters containing stamp answered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—N. Helman,7 Henry street,
Cumberland, Ind., has 250 picture cards, $2, $5, and
#50 Confederate bills, and 50-cent steam engine to ex-
change for heavy wool sweater. 5

NOVELS.—B. A. Rolfe, Brasher Falls, N. Y., has
a large number of 5and 10-cent novels to exchange
for Goop NEws, after No. 239.

MISCELLANEOUS.—T. Myeres, 1802 Brucktin
street, Kansas City, Mo., has 2,500 red stamps, of 1890
issue; 200 picture cards, eight Good Nrws, and other
good reading matter to exchange for best offer. Write
for list. All letters answered.

BOXING-GLOVES.—A. L. Towsley, Rome, N. Y.,
has a set of boxing-gloves (California special), seven-
ounce, cost $7.50, nearly new, to exchange for a man-
dolin or guitar.

MISCELIANEOUS.—W. W. Danner, Johnson City,
Tenn., has Goop News, from 272 to date; New York
Weekly, from No. 32, Vol. 49, to date; bound books, 5
and 10-cent novels to exchange for other boys’ papers.
or books of travel and adventure. All letters an-
swered.

STAMPS.—John Llewelyn, Box 92, Eldred, Pa.,
has foreign and United States stamps to exchange for
Confederate bills.

PRINTING PRESS.—Percy Ewing, 40 Pine street»
Decatur, [l., has a sood self-inking printing press, big
enough to print a small paper on, with alot of type,
ete., to exchange for best offer.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Geo. L. A. Doyle, 608 W.
Wilkin street, Stillwater, Minn., has sixteen 25-cent
novels, three alphabets rubber type, with type-holder;
one of each of the following Columbian stamps, 3c.,
4c., 5c., 8c., 10¢c., and 112 other stamps, United States
and foreign (all different), to exchange for any two
volumes of Goop Nrws, or will exchange either nov-
els or stamps separately, for best offers.

GOOD NEWS.—Ed. Schenck, 194 So. Clark street,
Chicago, IL, has Goop News and other storypapers
to exchange for mandolin or best offer.

READING MATTER.—Lou Marquis, P. O. Box
483, Manchester, N. H.. has books, papers, novels, etc.,
to exchange for best offer. Send list. All letters an-
swered.

MISCELLANEOUS.—James E. Hooper, 5 Hamp-

 
 
  
 

to exchange for a 30c. Columbian stamp,

STAM PS.—James Klindt, 214 E. 4th street, Duluth»
Minn., has 100 foreign stamps (many good), to ex”
change for a 15c. Columbian stamp; fifty foreign
stamps for one 6c. Columbian stamp; thirty all dif-

) | ferent foreign stamps for one 3c. Columbian stamp;
of Goop NEws before Vol. 10; also has a cartridge box |
and belt, as good as new; an Oil-painting picture of |

.
:

 

 

shire street, San Francisco, Cal., has 100 United States |
stamps, from 2c. to 10c., 1890-94, and new issues; 2,000 |

foreign, 1,000 common, new issue: 500 2-cent envelope
stamps; twenty-five 2cent Columbian envelope

250 foreign stamps for twenty-five Columbian stamps
over 2c.

MISCELLANEOUS.—J. Van Ostrand, Jr., 11 Pel-
lington place, Brooklyn, N. Y., has two volumes boys’

 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
  

of Goop News before Vol. 10, or everything for any | papers, a Knickerbocker repeating camera, a 4x5

Surnol camera, a B flat cornet with C sharp attach-
mentand case, a five-bar Zimmerman autoharp, a
pair full length tights, with velvet trunks, 100 old
eae and fifty 25-cent novels, to exchange for best
offer.

STAMPS.—Wm. Nordquist, Camden Place, Minn.,
has 1,000 foreign stamps to exchange for any volum
of Goon NEws, after Vol. 5. .

READING MATTER.—Wm. Merrifield, 726 5th
street, Louisville, Ky., has books by Alger, Ellis, boys’
papers, and foreign stamps to exchange for a magic
lantern or camera. Letters answered.

DETECTIVE LANTERN, ETC.—G. G. Wagner,
210 Jefferson street, Buffalo, N. Y., has one nickel-
plated dark lantern ($1),and one Weden’s upright
steam engine ($1), to exchange for Vol. 1, 2, or 3 of
Goop NEws.

READING MATTER.—James Hardiman, 2706
Boudinot street, Philadelphia, Pa., has Goop NEws
from No. 28 to date, and about 800 other papers to ex-

| change for novels and papers. He desires to exchange
| for the following numbers of Goop NEws: Nos. 1, 12,

19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, or the complete Vol. 1.
He will give two for one. :

MISCELLANEOUS.—Will C. Price, Princeton,
Mo., has eight volumes of boys’ papers, 200 novels,
books (bound in paper and cloth), large exhibition
magic lantern and slides, amateur papers, stem-wind-
ing watch, and many other useful articles to exchange
for a self-inking printing press, or printing material.
State size and name of press when writing.

STAMPS AND PICTURE CARDS.—T. A. Dor-
gan, 513 Gough street, San Francisco, Cal., has 200 for-
eign stamps or 400 picture cards to exchange for set of
boxing-gloves. San Francisco offers only.

STAMPS, ETC.—H. J. Kleinman, 1027 Lawrence
street, Philadelphia, Pa., would like to exchange
stamps with collectors. Send your sheets and receive
his. Will give fifteen stamps (catalogued at 30 cents),
for a silver dirhe, dated 1877, or twenty stamps, cata-
logued at 50 cents, for dime, dated 1887: must be in
good condition. Also has boys’ story papers, cards,
and albums to exchange for best offer. ;

OPERA-GLASSES.—W. H. Rapson, 308 Twiggs
street, ‘Tampa, Fla., hasa cheap pair of opera-glasses
to exchange for best offer in unused Columbian
stamps. '

MISCELLANEOUS.—R. Wetzel, P. O. Box 271,
Stuttgart, Arkansas Co., Ark., has two good watches
(silverine cases and American movements), nearly all
numbers of Goop News, and thirty 5-cent novels to
exchange for camera, sporting outfit, or best offer.

TYPE, ETC.—Chas. L. Wilcox, Hastings, Minn.,
has fifteen fonts of type, brass rule, border, etc., also
birds’ eggs and reading matter to exchange for United
States and foreign postage stamps and coins; send
stamps and coins and state what you want. :

STAMPS.— Arthur Stowell, 46 School street, New
Bedford, Mass., bas 250 United States stamps to ex-

stamps; a number of revenues, special deliveries, and ' change for best offer—issue 1890, 1c., 2c., 5c., 10c., in-

postage due stamps; ‘500 (all different) California post-
marks; reading matter, such as 5, 10, 25, 50-cent nov-

i

 
 
   

cluding 1c. and 2c. Columbian stamps, and fifty for-
eign stamps. All letters answered.
 

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CHAPTER III.

HANS WANDERS INTO A DIME MUSEUM.
ANS was nimble on his feet, and the
way he dusted was a caution.
vary And he didn’t stop for several
> ~~ blocks.
‘¢Of da dinks I vos a pumpkin-headed fool |
da vos mistaken, by jiminy!’’ he said, to
himself, with a determined shake of his nod

 

|

dle. ‘‘I don’t buy vot I don’t vont no dime,

by gracious! I schmash der whole city ter

ten dousand bieces first already.”’ |

He looked back, but could see no one in|
pursuit.

This made him breathe freer, and he,

dodged into another saloon for an additional
bracer.

And took two, one to hold the other down. |

When he came out he felt as bold as three
lions rolled into one,

He was willing to lick the whole city of |
New York with one hi und.

‘*Let dem come on!’’ he cried.
knock der outsides in so quick da
know it. I’m vos Hans Liederkranz,
poss brize-fighter of der country.’’

Hans was now in dandy trim for fun.

And he determined to have it. |

Presently he drifted up to a dime museum.

The big banners outside struck him all of
a heap.

**Donner und

ee ill |
von’t |

der

he exclaimed.
‘¢Just to look at der size of dot vomans!
Dot knocks Katrina’s mudder all by der |
shade already. And dot man vos so din der
vind could blow his stomach drough midowit |

blitfzens !’’

half trying. Du meine zeit! “Der vos a
: |

vomans mit two heads already! And der |

vos a mans mit a dog’s head on, by jiminy!

I dinks I go me insides and look dem |
dings drough.’

So he planked up to the door.

‘* Ticket!’

4é Hey? 99?

‘¢Where’s yer ticket?’

**Vot ticket you vonts?’

‘* Your admission ticket.’’
**T don’t got no dickets.
vont ter see der two-headed

der——’?

‘¢You can’t go in without a ticket.

ce Hey: 99?

‘*T say yer can’t go in without a ticket. |
See?’’

‘*But I vants ter

‘«Pay yer dime or clear out.’

‘*Hey???

‘*Pay ten cents or skip.’

At last Hans comprehended.
the money, and handed it over.

The doorkeeper, who was only hired help, |
slipped the money into his pocket, and |
allowed our German friend to hie himself to
the interior.

Hans looked around in great expectancy.

Did he see the fat woman, the living
skeleton, and all the rest?

Well, hardly.

A Bowery museum an’t built that way.

One or two are good enough, but the rest
are fakes of the worst kind.

And Hans had struck one of the rest.

The museum was nothing but a vacant
store with most of the fixtures remaining in
it.

To one side was a cage of sickly mocking
birds, and another of monkeys.

On the other side was nothing.

In the back of the concern three men sat
at a table drinking and playing cards.

Hans spent five minutes in getting his
bearings.

Then he beg
had been sold.

And he bore down on the group at the
table.

‘* Vere
manded.

No one paid any attention to him.

He repeated his question.

Still silence so thick you could cut if with
a knife.

But Hans was not to be bluffed.

As we know, he was in fine fighting trim.

Moving nearer he struck the middle of the
table a crack with his fist that nearly split
it in two.

Those three snides were astonished,
mistake.

Two of them jumped up, and the other
tumbled backward.

‘*{ vont ter know vere dem
curiosities is?’’ repeated Hans.

by der

Let me go by. I
vomans and |

see——’?

He drew out |

ran to realize how badly he

ist all dem curiosities?’’ he de-

and no

vonderful

‘Ah, an’ shake yerself,’’ said the

go off

| proprietor of the fizzle.

|

6 Hey?’

‘““Skip out and air yer garret,’’ said his
| partner.
‘¢Move on, an’ make room for the next |

gilly,’’ said the third man.
Hans didn’t take any of the advice.

There is no charge what-|!
ever. Simply forward your
iname by letter postal card,

| free.

‘Vere ist dot two-headed vomans?’’ he
asked.
‘*On der banner outside.’’
He sy: ret
‘Ah, goon. You’ve seen de show; clear
out.’’
‘*You don’t got no two-headed vomans?’
‘No.’??
‘‘And no mans so din like a telegraph

| wire???

‘No.’??
‘Den you vos schwindlers, and I vonts me
mine den cents back,’’ returned Hans, de

ipo:

The trio of fakirs let out a roar.
The idea of returning any spuds taken in!
It was almost too rich for their blood.

‘‘Go down to der City Hall an’ tell der
judge ter fine yer five dollars fer bein’ a|

first-class idiot,’’ suggested the partner.
He had hardly spoken before Hans let out
with his left.

Our German friend was as fresh as if he
hadn’t done anything in a week.

Her-chunk !

The man flew back and struck his head
against the wall with full force.

‘¢Dink I vos so green der goats would |
eat me up, does you?’’ demanded Hans.
‘‘By jiminy, I vos jus show you your mis-

”

take putty quick, an’t it?

It was a lively row.

Presently they knocked down the monkeys’
cage, and the door flew open.

Out came half a dozen of the frisky little
animals.

All but one went for their keeper.

That one lit on Hans’ neck.

And fastened his claws into our poor Ger
man friend’s golden locks.

**Oh, deary dear!’

‘‘Donner und Blitzen!’’ howled
‘‘Dake him off! I vos killed!’’

He tried to make the little wretch let go.

But Jocko was not to be shaken thus
easily.

He only took a deeper hold.

Suddenly out came a lock of hair.

‘*T vos killed! I vos killed! Bolice! bo-
lice!’’ roared Hans.

Tho tears streamed down his cheeks.

His criés frightened all the monkeys, as
well as several people who had just entered.

Those monkeys began to pull out hair all
around.

Hans.

The three men who ran the museum
their hands full.

Likewise their hair.

Black, brown and red flew in all direc-
tions.

And each loss was accompanied by a yell |
that would have caused a crazy cannibal to |
turn white with envy.

In vain Hans tried to shake that little |
devil.

It was no use.

Jocko had located himself to stay.

All four claws were tight in Hans’ scalp.

It was a case of let him remain or lose all
your wool.

At last Hans made e bee line for the door.

‘*Hi there, stop!’ called the ticket taker.

‘*Stop! You’ve got one of our animals!’’
‘““Took him for der brice of der admission, ’?
Hans called back.

And off he tore, that frisky creature

clinging fast for. dear life.
(TO BE CONTINUED. )
— +>? fiona

It is feared that little Johnnie
proud of
dad a different sort of man.
Johnnie looked at the unhandsome features
of his papa, and then watched that person-
fashion.

age move about in his shiftless
Said Johnnie, after a while:
‘‘Pa, were there any others men about

 

when ma fell in love with you?’’

the

 

And he danced around like a chicken on “4
| red-hot plate.
| Maybe those three weren’t surprised?

If you think so you’re off the track.

A cyclone wouldn’t have caused them

more astonishment.

3ut the three, were game.

And they made for Hans. |

|

|

| Harry Castlemon,

| W.

}
i

had |

: {
is not so
his dad as he might be were his |
The other day |

eae ———eet

 

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