e ly n- is ‘8, u, pt Y, th a 2 1in rid rs. A | eee — eae SEE as SS LE SRD ag ET IOI i % Fg : YUU, WTI, VM "Se S SS i S 7 CH e (ir Ee os WMA *) SSS SS ~ — —— STORIES: PRow-pyeay. oyAREER ; : i ee Wy | PV Lele) } | ~ hh bs So UVES ‘VE Me QUAR . Wntered According to Act of Congress, in the Year 1895, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C. arama eco etata : ' Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N.Y., Post-Ofice. % Pia ct CRS ey Supe ee TE RAR IRED Si Car oO ete tet Net Met at tee teeta a ne ne eel wae tal tet ten et tet tet ae tee teeta e tne ae ae ee AeA eR een w eta wa wee ete et tet tat tee neat tee ase eRe ee ae Ns ha et tartare seen e ee hatha s ee tee Meet eetag sea" Oel bel sleet igs tees testes teste" hss <4 ears . ishe Subscription Price STREET & SMITH, Publishers, N y k 0 b 19 1895 eset Vol. 11. 29 Rose Street, New York. Cw or 9 cto er ’ : $2.50 per Year. 0. t wa ora cMeet neh BaP Reh Bee teste o~cetceteete ate cMactactn ses cy setee ee tceteetaete et eamach heh tet hat tat ah te" ne tee eet eeM an asm ears at tal Bal See ee tee ereetas CaM eMeatN al Hel Hat hae alse Mee tweneeMee"agMaer Hut 750 Mg gh ese te eM %05"a susan hohe see, 08.0%, 5%seMaetecMeehee \\ tenia seeece Wii ni Nt Why \ AN AK ——___—____ LAURA SANK DOWN BESIDE THE DIVAN ON WHICH MARSHALL’S BODY LAY. THE JACK OF DIAMONDS; DETECTIVE BORN AND BRED By JOHN BLAKE STRONG. “THE JACK OF DIAMONDS” was commenced in No. 282. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) CHAPTER X. terwoven in a dense tangle. Beyond was the path leading from the arbor. i in a small open space among the| was not very dark; and Jack, whose sight ep rat mah EMPTY SHE i trees. On one side was a thick growth | was returning rapidly, could make out the ‘K EX i "RANKLIN MARS L’S REVOLVER. THE EMPTY SHELL IN IT a). oa ; ozs JACK EX/.MINED Tn dander sake DISCHARGED. of young spruce trees, their limbs in- | details of the scene. > IG \ : A ‘ } FIRST CLEWS. It was only a short distance to the water ~ N mY \\\ \\\\ \ \ VE ~~ abort! lk Ht upon the other side, but the trees hid it. As NSHAW WN AAAS We RANKLIN MARSHALL’S body lay | the spot was not directly overshadowed, it The corpse lay upon its back. The fatal | wound was under the left arm, and there | seemed to be no other. Near the right hand lay a revolver, the faint light glinting on its nickel mountings. Jack picked up the weapon, and opened the spring, exposing the chambers. It was a five-shooter of 38-caliber. Four chambers -were loaded, and one contained an empty shell. ‘*Hold the lantern for me,’’ he said to Winslow, at the same time drawing from his pocket an ingenious device perfected by his own skill. [It was a pocket lantern, scarcely larger than a watch. The light was furnished by an electri¢ storage battery, and it was capable of brightly illuminating an object within its narrow field. Under its light, Jack examined Franklin Marshall’s revolver. The empty shell in it had: recently been discharged. Upon the shell next to it was the mark of the ham- mer, showing that the revolver had once missed fire. An examination of the ground revealed little. There were no evidences of a violent struggle. i It appeared that some one had forced his | way through the’thick growth between the | open space and the path, but the soil was so} hard and dry that if was impossible to de- | tect foot-prints upon it. Thus the course of Franklin Marshall in reaching the spot and that of the murderer in coming and going | were beyond discovery. ‘‘How did you find the body?’’ asked Jack. As a mattter of fact, the question was pertinent. One would have said that, de- spite the small extent of the island, the corpse might have lain undiscovered for hours in such a spot, even if an organized | search had been in progress. ‘‘We came upon it by accident,’’ replied Winslow. ‘‘We were following you. We thought from the sound of your voice that something had happened to you. Who hit you across the nose?’’ He turned the lantern upon Jack’s face as he spoke. ‘‘| ran against the limb of a tree,’’ replied Jack; and he hurriedly told of his encounter with the man who had shot at him. ‘* At first I thought some one had hit me with a club,’’ he continued, ‘‘but now I know that a tough spruce bough was what knocked me out. I was entirely blind at first, and wandered aimlessly, calling to you.’’ ‘“‘The bridge of your nose is swelled a good deal,’’ replied Winslow, ‘‘but otherwise you seem to be all right.’ ‘*Oh, yes; I can see well enough now.”’ ‘*What sort of a view did you get of the) man? Can you describe him?’’ } ‘‘He was tall, and he wore dark clothes | and a soft hat. As to his face, I got only | the faintest idea of it. I think he wore a} beard, but I can’t even swear to that.’’ ‘*He must have been the murderer,’’ said Freeman. ‘*T believe so,’’ responded Jack; ‘‘but whoever he was, he has had time enough to | escape from the island. Of course he had a | boat ready, and once afloat on this great | river, he can defy pursuit from a thousand | men,’’ ‘*You are right,’’? said Winslow, ‘‘There never was such a place as this for hide and | seek. ‘This isn’t one of those cases where a| sheriff’s posse runs down a criminal. It’s a} detective’s case; a game of fine clews and of | working down to the identity of the crim- inal,’’ ‘The first thing to do is to get the body | up to the house,’’ said Jack. ‘‘ Freeman and | T will attend to that. You will take the boat and get over to Alexandria Bay as quickly as you can. Notify the proper authorities, in order that we may get the legal formali- ties out of the way as soon as possible. Also inform Mr. Deming. His help should be im- portant.’’ ‘*Do you suppose that Hdson did this?’ asked Winslow. **Guess-work,’’ replied Jack. ‘*But he must have known that it was going to be done.’’ ‘‘1’m not even sure of that,’’ responded the young detective. ‘‘In fact, I very gravely doubt it.”’ ‘*But the plot,’’ cried Winslow. ‘‘The talk that I overheard? What of that?’’ ‘‘Was this crime the result of it?’’ said Jack, half to himself. ‘‘I scarcely think so. Look at it in the light of reason. You be- lieve that a gang of which Marshall was a member plotted to get him out of the way. Would the gang—led, as you well know, by expert criminals—have done it in this hap- hazard fashion?’’ ‘*3¢ was sure enough, I should think,’’ re- joined Winslow, pointing downward at the body. ‘*Was it?’ cried Jack. ‘*Think a moment. How many shots did you hear?’’ ‘*Two very close together. Then one after an interval of nearly a minute. Then two more, one of which you fired.”’ ‘* You don’t believe that either the first or second shot killed Marshall???’ ‘*Certainly not. It must have been the third. There’d have been no object in firing after he was dead.’’ ‘*But he fired one shot himself.’’ J ‘*So the pistol indicates,’’ said Winslow. | more than ordinary self-command. | illness of Laura. GoonD NEHWS. ‘‘Then he and the murderer exchanged | whose life he had vainly tried to save. At! shots, after which nearly a minute elapsed before another was fired. How do you ac- count for that? If this was a carefully planned murder, would all have been necessary??’’ ‘*Tt looks queer,’’ Winslow admitted. ‘*My own idea,’’ said Jack, ‘‘is that the | tragedy was enacted before the stage was set for it. dental quarrel between Marshall and one of the gang. Shots were exchanged. fled unwounded. But by bad fortune he ran straight into the arms of another assassin whose aim was better than that of the first.”? ‘‘He may have hit the first one,’’ said Winslow, ‘‘in which case we have one of the gang marked.’’ ‘fAnd I believe that I marked another,’’ added Jack. ‘*Hor all we know,’’ said Freeman, with ashudder, ‘‘both of them may be lying dead within a few yards of us.”’ ‘*The island must be searched,’’ said Jack. ‘*)’ll attend to that, with Freeman’s help. Now get under way, Winslow. We have spent enough time in talking.’’ Winslow disappeared among the trees. During the time since Jack found himself beside Franklin Marshall’s body, he had heard the voices of servants from the house, who, alarmed by the pistol shots, had come out to search the island. They had at first wandered off toward the point beyond the landing, but at last began to approach the true scene of the tragedy. ‘‘T want to get out of here before they come,’’ said Jack. ‘‘Do you know this spot? Can you find it again?’’ ‘*Hasily,’? replied Freeman. this shooting | | } There may have been an acci- | last Freeman came hurriedly into the room. ‘There are three men who can_ be trusted to work faithfully under your directions,’’ he said. ‘‘They are John Hogan, the gar- dener, with his son, and Franz Siegel, who | lrttle steam | is engineer of Mr. Marshall’s yacht. I’m afraid of all the others. find all the servants together in part of the veranda. You’ll | safe to show that I distrust any of them by making an open selection.’’ | ‘*No powder marks on the clothing,’’ he Marshall | They lifted the body and _ bore it swiftly toward the house. Among the many thoughts which crowded Jack’s mind was one which rose above the | others more and more prominently as he advanced with his grim burden. It was the thought of the beautiful. girl to whom he was bringing such ghastly tidings. The shock must be broken as much as pos- sible, and to this end Jack directed his plans. He knew that Franklin Marshall had put his house in charge of a supposed rela tive of his wife, a widow, whose name was Lydia Alden. Freeman had spoken of her as a_ good woman, who had a sincere affection for Laura. It would be best to notify Mrs. | Alden first, and intrust to her the task of | breaking the news. Therefore, Jack directed Freeman to lead the way to the house by the darkest path. This order was so skillfully obeyed that the two men succeeded in depositing Marshall's body upon some steps at the rear of the | house without being perceived. ‘*Now find Mrs. Alden,’’ said Jack, ‘‘and | bring her here. You will represent that I | am a police detective, and that I was sent here by friends of Mr. Marshall, who be- lieved that his life was in danger, While you are gone I will disguise myself, for I do not wish my real identity to be known.,”’ Freeman hurried away. Jack crouched down in the shelter of the porch, and drew out his lantern, a small mirror, and some materials for disguise. When Freeman re- turned with Mrs. Alden, the youthful detect- ive had disappeared, and in his place was a middle-aged man with iron-gray hair, and a heavy, drooping mustache. His voice as he replied to the housekeeper’s excited ques- tions was slow and of a heavy tone, very different from Jack’s ordinary, brisk, clear speech. It was evident that the shock of the crime was almost more than Mrs. Alden could bear, though she seemed to be a woman of When Jack asked her what means she would employ to break the news to Laura, she cried, excitedly : ‘¢Laura must not know of this!’’ ‘*But she must, sooner or later,’’ rejoined Jack, gently. ‘*Not to-night! Not to-night!’’ protested the woman. ‘‘She is ill. I dare not tell her to-night.”’ ‘*Y had some hope that I could see her,’’ said Jack. ‘:There are certain questions deh? ‘Impossible! No one shall see her to- night. She is in her room, and she shall stay there. I tell you she is ill,’’ ‘*But Isaw her only a short while ago,’’ protested Jack, ‘‘and she seemed in perfect health. What has happened???’ ‘tT do not know. I can only tell you that, if you tell her this dreadful story to-night, it will kill her.’’ Jack said nothing more upon that theme. Freeman helped Mrs. Alden to decide where the body should be laid. The woman would not have it put into the room which had been Mr. Marshall’s sleep- ing apartment, because that was too near Laura’s room. At last it was settled that it should be carried into the library and laid upon a divan. This was done; and then Jack sent Free- man out to inform the servants of what had happened, and to organize such as were trustworthy into a party for searching the island. He also enjoined Freemen to find out as much as possitde about the sudden Freeman was gone about half an hour, while Jack set beside the corpse of the man And how about Miss Laura?’’ ‘“*‘T have heard a dreadful story,’’ said Freeman, in a trembling voice. ‘‘John Hogan says he saw her leave the house secretly about half an hour before the shooting, and that he feels sure that she has not returned.’’ *‘*Good! CHAPTER XI. THE MYSTERY OF LAURA. -G ) ACK sprang out of his chair. The inti- Nf mation given by Freeman was enough ¥’; to startle any human being. cL ~The suggestion involved was too dreadful to be entertained, yet the known facts urged it upon Jack’s mind. If some purpose, more diabolical than any. which the boy could conjure up, had led the assas- sins of Marshall to mete out the same doom to his daughter, the puzzle of the pistol shots would be explained. It would then-appear that she had been lured to the grove, probably by some story of danger to her father, and had been mer- cilessly shot down. Involuntarily, Jack cov- ered his eyes with his hand, as if to shut out the vision which his imagination had conjured up. ‘‘It can’t be possible!’’? he cried. ‘‘I won’t believe it even of them demons by whom we are surrounded in this place.’’ His words were only half understood by Freeman. ‘*You don’t believe that any harm has come'to her?’’? gasped the faithful fellow, with tears in his eyes. ‘*f won’t believe it yet,’’ replied Jack, ‘‘but I must have the facts at once. If the the rear | I thought it was not | ‘‘T think Mr. Marshall’s desk should be |examined at once,’’ said Deming; ‘‘and if there is no objection, I will do it. There may be some clew among his papers.’’ | ‘*It is quite possible?’ Jack assented. ‘*Where is the desk?’’ | ‘*In his bedroom. Will you join me there | presently??? Jack assented, and Deming turned to leave the room. Meanwhile, Doctor Harri- |son had been examining the corpse. |said. ‘The shot was fired at some distance. The murderer stood on the left of the vic- tim. The bullet in still within the body | cavity.”? ‘‘It must be found,’’ said Jack. be an important bit of evidence.’?’ ‘*The law of the State, as you are doubt- less aware,’’ said Harrison, ‘‘does not per- mit an autopsy so soon after death. It will probably require one to determine where the bullet is.’?’ ‘“*We must wait,’’ said Jack. ‘‘But mean- ‘while, there is a matter in which you can render great assistance. Mrs. Alden informs me that Mr. Marshall’s daughter has been taken suddenly ill—so ill, in fact, that it would be dangerous to inform ‘her of what has occurred. If you would see her——”? ‘*Certainly,’’ said the doctor. ‘‘Believe me, it is not necersary,’’ pro- tested Mrs. Alden. ‘‘I am quite used to these sudden illnesses of hers. Sleep alone is necessary. I beg of you not to disturb her.’’ The physician glanced at Jack. The situa- tion was a strange one. A doctor cannot force himself into the presence of a patient. In this emergency Jack laid before Doctor Harrison the exact state of the case, and the suspicions which Mrs. Alden’s course had excited. The woman was violently indignant. She said, with perfect truth, that Jack had ac- cused her of complicity in murder. ‘*If you wish to satisfy yourself that she is in the house,’’ said Mrs. Alden, ‘‘I will permit the doctor to see her, but I wish him to give me his word that he will not awaken her unless he deems it absolutely necessary.’? The physician glanced at Jack. To both of them this promise had a strange look. “Tt will ? girl is not in the house, Mrs. Alden will | Was it possible that this woman meditated have a hard time explaining her falsehood | trying to deceive the doctor with the dead to me. Send her to me, and then start your . body of the girl? } searchers. Take three other men_ besides those whom you know you can trust. the doubtful ones where there’s nothing to | entered his brain. be found. Let the others, under your direc- tion, examine the ground around the spot where the body was found. ‘*Tell them to be careful about oblitera- ting tracks, if there is any. I wish it were possible to keep everybody from the place, but we haven’t force enough to surround it, and I’d rather take the chances of an imme- | diate search than give all night to the mur- derers in which to remove any clews they may have left.’’ Freeman promptly obeyed his orders. In a few minutes Mrs. Alden entered the room where Jack guarded the murdered body. The young detective did not beat about the bush. He told Mrs. Alden exactly what he had heard. The woman was evidently much agitated, but she replied, firmly : ‘*You need have no fears for Laura. She is in her bed, and I will see that no harm comes to her.’’ The suggestion was too wild to be enter- Send | tained. Jack dismissed it the instant that it It was much more prob- able that Mrs. Alden’s stipulation was in- tended to secure delay. At any rate, her words made it tolerably evident that Laura was really in the house, and a great load was lifted off Jack’s breast. He had not realized before how deep an im- pression had been made upon him by the fleeting glimpse of her beauty which he had enjoyed. While he hesitated as to what he should reply to the doctor’s questioning glance, there came the sound of excited voices from without. ‘‘T must see him!’’ cried one whom Jack instinctively knew to be Laura. Deming’s voice broke in. He was begging her to be calm. It seemed as if he were de- taining her by force. Then suddenly her steps were heard in the hall; the door of the library was pushed open, and Laura Mar- shall ran into the room. She was dressed in a robe of a somber hue that was bound about her waist by a girdle ‘*Did she not hear the pistol shots?’’ ‘*No; she was asleep.’’ ‘tT dislike to doubt your word, Alden, but it seems Mrs. terious errand half an hour before the | of white, silken rope. The pallor of her face |and the extraordinary light of her golden incredible that she} hair, gave to this costume a weird and She ran across the room so rapidly that it should have left the house upon some mys- ) startling effect, suggestive of the cloister. } shooting; should have accomplished what- ever she went to do, and then should have returned and gotten to bed and to sleep, all in so short a time.’’ Mrs. Alden was greatly disconcerted by this presentation of the case, but she ad- hered to her story. She had been beside the girl’s bed when the shots had been fired. ‘*Do you still insist upon keeping her in ignorance of this crime until morning?”’ ‘tT do,’’ cried the woman, and she shut her teeth together firmly. At this moment Jack heard the voice of Winslow at the door. Ina moment he en- terea, followed by Lawyer Deming, and by a stout, gray-haired man whom Jack knew to be a physician by his manner. ‘*Doctor Harrison,’’ said Winslow to Jack. ‘He will act as coroner’s physician in this case.’ Harrison and Deming, after gazing down upon the dead for a moment, looked inquir- ingly at Jack. ‘tA detective from New York,’’ whispered Winslow to them. ‘‘I don’t know just what brought him up here, but he was on the island when the crime was committed. He had come to see Marshall.’’ ‘*Doctor Harrison,’’ said Jack, ‘‘circum- stances have put me temporarily in charge of the police investigation of this case. I shall. be glad of your assistance. In your capacity as a. physician, there is, unfor- tunately, nothing that you can do for Mr. Marshall.’’ ‘*] should think not,’’ replied the doctor. ‘‘The wound must have been almost instant- ly mortal.’ ‘*Ts there any clew to the assassin?’’ asked Deming. ‘*None, as yet,’’ responded Jack. | was like thé flitting of a phantom. Jack had | barely time to note her dress, her pallor, and a strange mark upon her forehead, be- fore she had reached the divan on which Marshall’s body lay, and had sunk down beside it with her head upon the quiet breast. Kneeling thus, she burst into convulsive sobs, which became quickly so violent that Doctor Harrison and Jack sprang forward and raised her up. Jack then observed that the mark upun her forehead which had been white, was red. It was a scar nearly an inch long, extend- ing horizontally, and just beneath the line of her hair. The white mark had been a bit of court-plaster, which had become de- tached, revealing the fresh wound upon her delicate skin. CHAPTER XII. THE TWO WEAPONS. ORACE DEMING had entered the room immediately after Laura. In his hands were some papers which he had evidently taken from Mr. Marshall’s desk. He ran forward, and joined his entreaties with the others who were urging Laura to return to her room. The girl was nearly hysterical with excitement, and her speech was incoherent. ‘*T heard her leave her room,’? said Dem- ing, ‘‘and fearing that she was coming here, I intercepted her upon the stairs. As nearly as I could make out, she had heard the servants talking on the veranda under ber window, and had thus learned of her se > ot =e OO ® . from CFOOD NEWS. father’s death, and that his body was here. She had arisen and clothed herself in this dressing robe. ‘*T tried vainly to persuade her not to come here, She is evidently ill, and un- able to bear the shock.’’ By this time Mrs. Alden was supporting the girl upon one side aud Doctor Harrison upon the other, She did not wish to go, but her strength failed her, and, half fainting, she was led from the room. Winslow, Jack and Deming were left with the dead. It is no reflection upon the man- hood of the three men to say that they all were shaken with emotion by the scene which they had just witnessed. There had been something so eerie in the girl’s appear- ance, and such great pathos in her grief, that no man with a heart in his breast could re- main unmoved. Deming was the first to speak. He shook himself, as one does who awakens, shudder- ing, from a bad dream. ‘*] must return to my work,’’ he said. “This is no time to lose one’s self-control. As yet, I have found nothing of importance among the papers, but they must all be ex- amined.’’ He turned directly to Jack. ‘*May I ask, sir,’? he said, ‘‘what are your plans for proceeding toward the detec- tion of the criminal?’’ ‘‘T have in progress at present,’’ said Jack, ‘‘a search of the island in which I shall presently join with this man to assist me. Until that is done, I cannot tell what step to take.”’ ‘‘Whom will you leave with the body asked Winslow. ‘*Freeman,’’ responded Jack. call him from the search.”’ ‘‘{ do not know your name or your au- thority,’’ said Deming, ‘‘but your appear- ance impresses me favorably, and I certainly shall not put any obstacle in your way.’’ ‘My authority is here,’’ said Jack, pro- ducing the certificates of his appointment as a special officer of the law. ; These he had taken care to procure imme- diately upon his arrival, through the agency of Winslow. A fictitious name was, of course, employed. ’ Deming glanced hastily at the documents. “They seem to be regular,’’ he said. ‘‘I sincerely trust that you will be successful. This is a terrible crime, and it certainly will not be my fault if the murderer escapes his' just deserts. ’’ He turned to leave the room, and at that moment Freeman entered. ‘What success?’’ asked Jack. ‘‘We have found what I believe to be the weapon used,’’ replied Freeman, drawing a revolver from his pocket. It was a short, heavy weapon, somewhat old-fashioned in its design. There were four chambers, and the caliber was .44. It was a double-acting arm, but the action was stiff, requiring a very strong pull upon the trig- ger to bring up the hammer. Both Winslow and Deming examined the revolver after Jack had finished. Neither could identify it. Of course Jack did not expect that, though there was one chance in a million that Winslow might recognize so peculiar a weapon as having been in posses- sion of one of the band of criminals whom he had watched for so long. Jack put the revolver into his pocket; and asked where it had been found. ** About fifty yards from the place where the body lay,’’ replied Freeman. ‘‘I found it myself. It was in a clump of bushes near that enormously tall tree which you may have observed on the northern projection of the island.’’ ‘Then the indications are,’’ said Winslow, ‘‘that the murderer had his boat drawn up somewhere on that point, and that he was on his way to it when he threw the revolver away. But why in the name of all that’s miraculous, did he throw it away? That’s what I want to know. If he was anxious to get rid of it, why didn’t he wait and drop it overboard?’ Nobody answered Winslow’s question. Jack was engaged in questioning Freeman, but he obtained nothing more of importance. Freeman was placed on guard over the body, and the others left the room. Deming went back to his work upon Marshall’s desk, and Winslow went out of the house. ‘Jack paused in the hall, waiting for Doc- tor Harrison. Presently Winslow returned with two constables from Alexandria Bay, who, after a brief glance at the body of Marshall, went out to bunt vaguely for clews. It was nearly half an hour before Doctor Harrison appeared. Jack questioned him eagerly. : ‘*Miss Marshall,’’ he replied, ‘‘is suffering nervous shock. 1 have succeeded in quieting her temporarily, but I dare not eave her. I intend to remain in or near the room all night, and Mrs. Alden will assist me.’? ‘*What is the wound upon Miss Marshall's forehead?”’ “*Tt is only a scratch. She says, as nearly as I can make out, that she fell while run- ning up the stairs to her room.’’ **Could the mark have been made by a bullet?”’ Doctor Harrison started, and looked anx- iously at the cetective. **It’s barely possible,’’ he said. ‘‘I should 99) **T shall re- not have thought of it. But you must re- member that the injury had been dressed by Mrs. Alden before I saw it. My opinion is therefore not of so much value. By the way, she denies having been out of the house. ’’ ‘*Have you examined the dress she wore?’’ ‘‘No; I hadn’t thought of that.’’ ‘“*Do so,’’ said Jack. ‘‘If she has walked through the woods in it to-night there should be indications of it. There’s not much dew in this region, so the dress will not be damp; but, look out for spruce spills in the trimming, if there is any.’’ Doctor Harrison nodded, and reascended the stairs. In a few minutes he returned. His manner showed considerable agitation. ‘*She has been out,’’ he said. ‘‘The dress shows that. There is evidence also, that she fell forward upon the ground. .But——-’’ he hesitated a moment, ‘‘[ have found some- thing even more important.”’ ‘*What is it?’? ‘*This—in the pocket of her dress.’ He had held one hand behind him, and Jack had observed it. When it was with- drawn, Jack saw that it clasped a small, silver-mounted revolver. Quick as a flash, the detective seized it, and exyosed the chambers. Four were loaded, and the fitth contained an empty shell. The weapon had recently been discharged. ‘*Keep this just as it is,’’ said Jack. ‘‘If it is missed, say that you took it, fearing that Miss Marshall, in her hysterical condi- tion, might do herself an injury. Don’t give it up, nor speak of it to any living soul.’’ (TO BE CONTINUED.) 0m {This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.] BOATS, BATS AND BICYCLES: Nimble Jerry’s Pluck and Luck. The Haps and Mishaps of a Young Athlete. BY ERNEST A. YOUNG, Author of ‘‘ Blue and White Sam,’’ ete. (Boats, BATS AND BICYCLES” was commenced in No. 273. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) CHAPTER XXXVI. CONCLUSION. “DERRY found Anthony Graham’s tent sN f vacant, Joe Wilson met him at the S/) entrance. The sun had set, and it was already getting dark. ‘*Graham hasn’t got back,’’ said Joe. ‘*Not got back—since when?”’ ‘‘Since the game. The last I knew of him he-was out on the lake in a boat with you.”’ ‘“‘T hope you don’t think I dumped him out?’?’ “Tf he shouldn’t come back at all, I ex- pect that’s about the verdict that a coro- ner’s jury would bring in,’’ said Joe, dryly. Jerry did not feel like taking the matter so lightly. He went to the landing where he had separated from his friend, and re- traced his steps over every yard of the way. But no sign of the young leader of the Quakers was found. Jerry’s alarm was contagious. Every member of the camp was aroused. Every path along the shore of the lake and through the woods was searched. Lastly, Jerry held a brief consultation with Joe, and the latter, serious for once, said: ‘Tf you think that’s possible, we'll make a raid on the Herkimer grounds the first thing.’’ ‘ making of a good chest and a correct spine. True gymnastic carpentry and build- ing first, and not merely the plastering of muscle over a poor framework containing | 4 ; {for the heart and lungs’ sake, and resting weak internal arrangements. Movements are simple and combined; only simple ones are given here. The sequence of the movements is such as has been deter- mined by special experiment and general experience to afford the best results. It must be observed, you may not mix. The sequence and the movements of a full scheme of gymnastic work, with apparatus, and making a lesson, are as follows: LIST OF MOVEMENTS. 1. Introductory. . Tense back bending. . Heaving. . Balance movements. Trunk movements,, dorsal region. Trunk movements, abdominal region. . Walking and running. Trunk movements, side bending. 9. Trunk movements, side twisting. 10. Slow leg movements, 11. Stronger heaving. 12. Vaulting and jumping. 13. Respiratory and slow leg movements, separate or combined. Note.—The movements selected for de- scription are neither elementary nor ad- vanced, but are of medium difficulty, and are plainly and perfectly typical of the class to which they belong. 1. Introductory Movements—These are principally leg movements, but between which are inserted gentle movements for trunk and arms. All are free-standing. Their purpose is to rouse the attention of the gymnast, and to render him limber and ready for the subsequent work. 2. Tense Back Bending—The characteristic piece of apparatus for this class of exercise is the wall ladder. The pupil stands back against the wall ladder. He then takes a short pace forward, stretches the arms up- ward, bends the body backward until the hands touch the rail; while in this bent position he lifts himself upon his toes three or four times. This constitutes the movement pure and simple. As counteraction, the body is now raised to the upright position, bent forward and downward, and then lifted for- ward and upward. Standing position is now quickly resumed. Throughout the movement and class, the legs are straight, knees well braced back; the arms also are kept at full stretch by the side of the head, and on no account are to be let droop forward; it is of no importance that they touch the ground in the downward bending, unless this can be done entirely by loins. 3. Heaving—The boom is the thing needed here. Heaving or hoisting the hanging body upward toward a bar by means of the arms, shoulders, and chest is known and attempted by most boys. The pupil stands almost directly under the bar (the farther off he stands the more he will swing, and swingiag is not wanted); with his hands hanging loosely at his sides and looking at the bar he waits the order to hang; on getting the order he jumps and gasps the bar on the side which is away from him; he then at the order ‘‘lift,’’ raises his body by means of the pull he puts into his arms, shoulders, and chest, until the breast nearly touches the bar. At the order ‘‘sink,’’ he slowly and re- luctantly lets himself down into hanging position again. The hands are kept pretty wide apart; the legs close together to avoid the risk of rup- ture; toes point downward. The pupil looks at the bar all the time, and in dropping off bends the knees as soon as ever the toes touch the ground. This must always be done when their is an alighting from a height. It breaks the fall, and saves spine jerk. No attempt is to be made to pull the chin over the boom; but on the other hand it will not hurt the pupil to have an ideal aim—say, to lift himself waist high. About four times is enough to do a movement of this class. The exercise just described may be ren- dered easier by lowering the boom to shoul- der height, and allowing the body to swing forward until it rests obliquely and perfectly straight on the heels under the bar. Hand- hold.as before. The body is the weight, the heel-rest on the floor is the fulcrum; it is plain to see why the work is not so hard. To increase the muscular difficulty of working from a hanging position, the grasp is al- tered; the hands are placed behind instead of before the bar, or they are put one on one side and the other on the other side of the boom, by which means more work is thrown on the forward arm and the way prepared toward single half-arm hanging and one-arm heaving up. MHalf-arm over- hand walking backward with chest drawn well up under the boom is a further increase ~ OUR O92 PAIS while the body is moved from one end to the other of a twelve-foot boom. Circling the bar upward to perch position, changing the hands and then reversely circling down- ward to hanging position, is still another example of heaving. There are many more of these movements, but they cannot be handled here. 4, Balance Movements—The heaving move- ments increase the heart’s action, and sause the blood to be sent to the seat of the ac- tivity in a larger share than to the rest of the body. Balance movements tend to draw the blood away and to calm the heart gradually down to its normal rate of beat. An abrupt suspension of work is not wise between exercise is likely to result in a chill. Better keep moving. Balance work meets our need for movement and rest. It also gives the brain as a two-sided organ a chance to exercise its special function of direction, and affords general work to the body by the slight and rapid manner in which it causes antagonistically acting mus- cles to contract and yield. Balance work is effected by diminishing the standing base. Hence it will be seen that they are principally free-standing movements. The simplest movement upon apparatus is walk- ing the under or plane side of the lowered and reversed boom; thence progressing by learning to do the same backward, and finally being able to change the plane for the curved side of the boom. In balance walking on the boom, the arms and trunk are of necessity free in order to swiftly correct bias. The pupil takes standing position, and from that flings the arms forward and up- ward; at the same timo he lifts one leg with pointed toe as far back as may be, and bends the knee of the supporting leg to an angle of ninety degrees. If he can maintain this position, an addition is made to the exercise by bending the knee as far as possi- ble, and then rising and resuming the angle of flexion started with, and so on three or four times. Standing position is taken by smartly pulling the leg and arms downward. The difficulty of this exercise lies not only in maintaining the balance, but also in hold- ing the head and arms well up. We have now reached what may be called the second stage of a programme of gym- nastic exercise—the trunk movements proper. The movements are named, for simplicity, after the region of their muscu- lar cause and their mode of action, thus: back, front, and side bending; side turning. 5. Movements for the Dorsal Region of the Back—The movements for the back or dorsal region affect that part of the back traversed and divided at length by the dorsal vertebrae. In free standing move- ments all forward bending and upward lift- ing of the trunk and upward swinging of the arms are back.movements. It may be as well here to remark that movement is active or passive; the legs and arms move in bending and stretching them, 7. e., the muscles about them effect these actions; the legs and arms are moved when they are lifted as a whole, being then merely weights for the back, abdominal, or side muscles to lift. A most useful apparatus for trunk bends is the bench, The subject lies prone -across upon the thighs. At the start the hands rest on the floor, and the heels have either live support (that of a comrade to hold them and to push them down as the weight of the body makes them rise up), or they are stayed under some firmly fixed piece of furniture—as the lowest rail of the wall ladder, for instance. The hands are then taken off the ground and placed upon the hips; at the same time the body is lifted up- ward and backward by the contraction of the back muscles, which causes it to bend into an are, just as the tightened string does a bow. The are of bending becomes more defined, the stronger the gymnast’s back muscles grow. The pupil comes to starting position by relaxing the bend and placing the hands on the floor. Take this bow-lying position three or four times. The Swedes call it the outsetting or funda- mental position for all back-bends where the bench is used for the apparatus. Because, when the pupil can maintain this position indefinitely as to time, it is the position on and from which movements are made; that is, it is a position maintained all the time certain movements are performed. With this, then, as the outsetting and underlying position, one may bend. forward and down- ward, using the loins here, until the fore- head touches the ground, and then rise into it again. The downward bend is to be done reluctantly. You will notice the reiteration of the word reluctant; it is of a purpose. Gravity acts powerfully in the position here given; the slightest relaxation of the back, and down you come. You must yield but slowly to this downward tendency: make as much work as you can out of the movement. Other exercises to be.done while lying in this bowed position are the upward bending and stretching of the arms, the forward bending and outward striking of the arms, and the arm motions in swimming. Further, the difficulty of the loin bending downward and lifting upward may be increased by having the arms at full stretch. In order to make the back muscles work in difficulty, because a strong position, viz., the half-arm hanging, has to be maintained in the opposite direction, it is necessary to NEWS. | reverse proceedings. We shall require the use of the wall ladder. In the exercises just described, the legs were fixed and the body was the weight moved; in the next exercise the trunk is partially fixed and the legs furnish the principal weight lifted. You stand close to and fronting the wall ladder, hands by the sides; double down, with the hands still at the sides, and rest the back against the ladder; then grip hard at the rail your hands touch, and slowly lift the legs and pull the body to the rails; you are now in head-downward hanging position. Then slowly sink the legs to the floor again. Repeat this lifting and sinking three or four times, one; first, because it is not much of a back one unless both legs are lifted as a whole, and beginners do not do this, but spring off the ground and into the hanging position; and, secondly, there is a tendency to hold the breath while doing it, and this is wrong, for ‘‘breathe freely’’ is the constant rule in the movements. If it is impossible to obey this rule in any given moment, then that movement must be discarded. The blood rushes to the head while hanging upside down, but it is of no consequence; a little tiptoe walking will soon remedy that. In fact, hanging head down, followed by tiptoe walking, is a good cure for headache, The brain gets blood-washed. The exercises of this section pull the shoulders back and flatten down the shoul- der blades, 7. e., render them less prominent; therefore, these movements are good to cure round sboulders and backs. 6. Abdominal Movements—These move- ments, as the name indicates, are for the lower front part of the trunk. Children do not require these exercises so much as youths and adults. All back-bending back ward in the free-standing movements are exercises for the abdominal muscles. The pupil sits on the bench, a leg length away from wall ladder, and with his toes fixed under the lowest rail of his stall. The move- ment starts from a perfectly upright sitting position, the body is allowed to. fall slowly backward until body and legs are in a right line, and then the body is slowly and stead- ily pulled into the upright sitting posture again. Repeat three or four times. Now observe: unless the body starts with and maintains the proper head-up, chest-out position all through, the movement does more harm than good, from the depressing effect it has cn the chest. This exercise is begun with hands on hips, then it progresses toarms at full stretch; the back-falling is increased till the crown of the head or tips of the fingers touch the ground. The body may also be retained in the right line posi- tion, and head turning and arm bending and stretching indulged in. Next week | will continue a description of the movements as outlined above. —_—_~> ++» ___—_ THE LAWYER’S DISCOMFITURE. Country lawyers are often forced, by the scarcity of business, to look very sharp for opportunities to draw up wills and perform other ‘‘legal’’ services. A stranger of mature years, a carpenter, who had come to a certain town to work at his trade, was asked several times by a local lawyer if he did not think he had better make his will. At last the carpenter took the delighted lawyer aside, and said to him, with an im- portant air: ‘*T an’t quite ready to make my will, but when I am, I’ll let you do it.’’ ‘Good! But now’s the time to draw it u 9”? ‘*Well, the fact is, I’ve had a disagreement with my sister Jane, and I an’t going to leave her a penny.’’ ‘‘Good! But have you any other rela- tives?’’ ‘* Yes; one sister and a nephew.”’ ‘*Good! Any disagreement with them?’’ ‘*None whatever. But I an’t—I’ll tell it to you particular—I an’t going to leave either one of them.a penny, neither !’’ ‘*Now why is that, pray?’’ ‘*Because I haven’t got a penny to leave to anybody !”’ Whereupon the lawyer hastily took his de- parture, and troubled the carpenter no more about his will. > ¢ > ——— WHY HE DIDN’T TAKE IT. Not long ago an old pioneer, who had lived in Texas in the days of the early colonists, was boasting of the good old times. ‘*Why, sir, I was once offered a league of land for a pair of old boots!”’ ‘*Didn’t you take it?’’ asked the party ad- dressed. ‘*No, sir, I didn’t.’’ ‘¢Poor land, I reckon,’’ ‘“Why, bless your heart, sir, it. was the best piece of land outdoors—grass five feet high, a clear stream of water running through it, and an undeveloped silver mine in one corner !’’ ‘¢ And why in thunder didn’t you make the trade?’’ ‘*Because,’’ said the old man, in a regret- ful voice, ‘‘because I—I didn’t have the boots,’’ {This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. ; IN BARRACKS AND WIGWAM; OR, The Young Recruit of the Seventh Cavalry. BY WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON, Author of “The White King of Africa,’ ‘Jungles and Traitors,” ‘Exiled to Siberia,” ete. (“IN BARRACKS AND WIGWAM” was commenced The movement is nota particularly good | in No. 283. Back numbers can be obtained of all “ | News Agents. ) CHAPTER VII. A VICTIM OF CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE. (yr. 78 INN, dazed and alarmed as he was by ( ¥) Captain Cameron’s stern manner and ‘4 significant words, could scarcely be- G=” lieve the evidence of his own senses when he heard himself thus basely de- nounced by Steve Halsey. His face flushed to a deep red—which might have been taken for a sign of either guilt or innocence—and with clinched fists he turned angrily upon his accuser. ‘*How dare you——’’ he cried. Then he stopped short, realizing the consequences of giving way to passion, and by a hard effort he kept his selt-control. ‘‘No, I won’t strike you,’’ he added. ‘‘I won’t soil my hands by touching you, Steve. You will suffer for this wicked lie, though. Captain Cameron knows better than to believe such a thing.’’ ‘*T don’t wish to believe it,’’ the captain said, gravely, ‘‘but I fear the circumstances point that way. Are you sure of this, Stephen? Is your friend telling the truth, Bruce?’? ‘*Of course lam,’’ exclaimed Steve. ‘‘Tell him so, Bruce. Speak up.’’ Bruce shivered slightly, and lifted a white and haggard face to meet his father’s keen gaze. ‘¢Yes, it’s true,’? he said, in a faint and husky tone. ‘‘Linn owned up toit. He— he——”’ ‘‘Stop, Bruce,’’ Linn interrupted. ‘‘I can’t believe this of you, and after what has just happened. Don’t try to screen Steve any longer. He will only get you deeper into the scrape, for the truth is bound to come out. Be a man, and make a clean breast of it all.’’ ‘*Well, did I ever?’’ exclaimed Steve, with a mocking laugh. ‘‘Of ail the cheek! You’re playing a clever game of bluff, Linn, but it won’t work. The idea of accusing us of the crime! You stole the money, and [ wouldn’t be afraid to bet,that you have it about. you now,.’’ Linn turned to the captain. ‘*Please search me, sir,’’ he said, proudly, ‘‘and then search Steve. I will take my turn first. I can explain everything, and I will do so when we are alone. For your own sake I would rather not speak now, in the presence of so many Witnesses. ’’ At this Bruce blushed with shame, and for an instant there was a faint look of con- trition on his face; but it quickly vanished when he caught a threatening glance from Steve. ‘*You prefer not to speak for my sake?’’ the captain demanded, sternly. ‘‘I am ready to hear anything you wish to say, Linn. I don’t like to search you, but at your own request I will do so,’’ Amid a deep and impressive silence, Cap- tain Cameron stepped forward. The two guards, Sanders and Marsh, moved a little closer, bringing Deerfoot with them. Steve looked on boldly, and with an evil smile, but Bruce kept his eyes on the ground, The captain began operations by plunging his hand reluctantly into the inner pocket of Linn’s coat, and he at once drew out Deer- foot’s letter. He took the paper from the envelope, and his knowledge of Indian sign- writing enabled him to interpret the missive almost at a glance. His face grew stern and angry. ‘‘More proof,’’ he muttered, half to him- self. ‘‘So you had an appointment at the cave with Deerfoot this evening, Linn?’’ ‘‘The letter means that, sir,’’? Linn re- plied. ‘*Then you admit it? And you were on the way to keep the appointment when I found you here?”’ ‘Not at all, sir. I came here for quite a different purpose. I wanted to see Bruce and Steve——’’ ‘Stop, my lad,’’ interrupted the captain. ‘“Don’t add deceit to your wrong-doing. It were better to say nothing than to——’”’ As he spoke, Captain Cameron thrust his hand into one of Linn’s side pockets, and with a sharp exclamation, he drew outa roll of bank-notes! Linn glanced at them, too dazed for an instant to comprehend what it meant. Then the truth flashed upon him, and his eyes blazed with anger. ‘*This is an infamous trick, Captain Cam- eron,’’ he.cried. ‘‘I did not know the money was there—I never saw it before. It was slipped into my pocket during the last few minutes. ‘““This is your doing, Steve Halsey!’’ he added, springing forward and clutching bim savagely by the throat. ‘‘ You hid the money , dd A “© ct rh @® uae wee ~ dislike to do so. - truths. to make a full confession. _ to steal the money last night?’’ but between you separated, Deerfoot retaining twenty- GooD NEWS. 4549 You shall Own there when my back was turned. suffer for this, you dastardly thief! up to it—own up, I tell you!’’ ‘*Help! help!’’ Steve cried, hoarsely, as he struggled in the grasp of his assailant. ‘*He’s choking me!”’ The captain quickly forced the lads apart, and stood between them. ‘*Let us have no more of this, Linn!’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘{ have been terribly deceived in you. Your guilt is beyond question, and yet you have the effrontery to fasten the crime on others. How dare you deny it? Here is the stolen money, taken from your very person.”’ ‘*[ knew he had it,’’? whimpered Steve, feeling his injured throat. ‘‘He wanted us to keep quiet and not give him away. And because | told the truth he tries to drag me into the matter.’’ ‘You don’t need any dragging, you thief!’? retorted Linn. ‘‘ You’ll be begging for merey soon enough. ‘‘T swear I am innocent, Captain Cam- eron,’’ he added, earnestly. ‘‘This is a cun- ning plot, and circumstances are against me now. But I can clear myself.’’ By this time the captain had finished searching Linn, and without discovering any more money. “*T would like to see you cleared, Linn,’’ he replied, ‘‘but I doubt if it can be done, In fact, I can’t believe in your innocence— the finding of this money is but a link ina long chain of evidence. I have but one hun- dred dollars here. Where is the balance?’’ ‘‘T repeat that I am innocent,’’ cried Linn. ‘‘I know nothing of this money, ex- cept that it was slipped into my pocket. Steve can tell you where it is. Hither he has bidden it, or it will be found on him.”’ ‘‘Search me, Captain Cameron,’’ de- manded Steve, with an injured air. ‘‘And search Bruce, too. This lying fellow is try- ing to implicate both of us.’’ : He triumphantly turned all his pockets inside out, and Bruce reluctantly did the same, studiously avoiding Linn’s scornful glance. ‘‘The rest of the money is hidden some place,’’ asserted Linn, ‘‘and Steve knows where. If you still insist upon believing me guilty, Captain Cameron, I will tell the whole story now. But I would rather you should hear it from Bruce. Steve’s evil in- fluence is all that keeps him from speak- ing.’’ On hearing these words, and happening to meet Linn’s eye, Bruce looked repentant and ashamed. He understood that Linn pitied him, and still desired to screen him as much as possible. He might have broken down and confessed all had he not caught a timely and threatening glance from Steve. - Pon’t stand there like a stick, Bruce,’’ - eried his confederate. Linn are old friends, is no reason why you ‘*Because you and should let him lie about you.’’ ‘‘Of course not,’’ admitted Bruce, in a low tone, ‘‘but Iam sorry for Linn. It is just as Steve says, father—Linn is trying to screen himself at my expense.”’ ‘‘There, you hear that, Linn,’’ cried Steve. ‘‘Now go ahead and tell your story —whatever itis. I’m anxious to see how big a lie you have concocted.’’ “Jt won’t be a lie,’’ replied Linn, who was more surprised than angered by Steve’s boldness and daring. ‘‘You know what is coming, Steve, and I don’t pity you. I’m _ sorry for Bruce, though, for you have led him into this. 1 will tell you the whole thing now, Captain Cameron, much as I And the story will explain why I was found in the school grounds last night——”’ ; ‘‘Wait, Linn,’’ sternly interrupted the captain. ‘‘I don’t wish to hear any un- I am satisfied that Stephen and my son can throw no light on this matter. But there is one here who can. ‘‘Deerfoot,’? he added, turning to the young Indian, ‘‘it will be to your interest Who helped you ‘tMe no steal money,’’ was the'sullen re- ply. ‘‘Money was give to me. Me know nothing of steal.’’ ; Deerfoot was resolved to hold fast to his sense of honor, and he evidently had no clear knowledge of the situation. He did not understand Linn’s unfortunate plight, but had a vague idea that his silence would benefit both Linn and Bruce. ‘‘Where did you get the twenty-five dol- lars?’’ the captain resumed, sternly. ‘*Money was give to me,’? Deerfoot mut- tered. ‘‘Me no tell more.’’ ; ‘‘It is useless to question him,’’ said the'cap- tain. ‘‘Iknow his dogged obstinacy too well. But his confession is not needed to prove our guilt, Linn. Alas! it is only too clear. You saw where I placed the five hundred _ dollars last night, and you and Deerfoot— - Whom you have been very intimate with of late—planned to steal it. You were watch- i. ing the window when Sanders caught you _ and you had the audacity to return a second time after being put out of the grounds. Which of you stole the money I don’t know, ou the deed was done. Then five dollars, and you taking the balance. t for Deerfoot’s capture you might have re suspicion—— | I followed top, Captain Cameron!’’ cried Linn. | safest place for you. | ‘Appearances are dead against me, but I would probably publish the news to the am innocent. Wait till you hear my story. Bruce and Steve to the’ school last night, suspecting that they were up to some mischief, I crept close up to them while they were hidden in the bushes near your window, and I heard them planning to steal the money and fasten the crime on Deerfoot. It was all arranged for them to escape. And it was for Bruce’s sake that I refused to answer your questions when I was caught. He dare not deny it——’’ ‘*My son was in bed at the time you speak of,’’? interrupted the captain, with a burst of anger. ‘‘This story is a vile fabrication— a tissue of lies. Shame on you, Linn, to ac- cuse an innocent lad. Bruce’s honesty is above reproach. You are the thief!’’ ‘*T am innocent,’’ cried Linn, fairly losing heart at the terrible chain of evidence that had been woven around him. ‘‘I implore you to believe me, Captain Cameron. Deer- foot can clear me, and you know that he is truthful. He don’t understand the situation I am in, or he would have spoken long ago. Explain it to him, or let me do it.’’ ut Linn was not destined to receive a vindication from this quarter. As he con- cluded his impassioned appeal, Deerfoot seized an opportunity for which be had been watching and waiting for some time. By a vigorous jerky he tore loose from his captors, dashed by Linn and the captain, and sped out of sight on the narrow path that led be- tween the creek and the cliff to Alexander’s Cave. Sanders and Marsh started in hot pursuit, followed by Steve and Bruce. Captain Cam- eron brought up the rear, pulling Linn along with him by the arm. CHAPTER VIII. DISOWNED AND DISGRACED. *'4) determined that Linn should not es- Ah cape, as his supposed confederate had => just done. He kept a tight grip on the lad’s arm, and though they moved as rapidly as the narrowness of the path would admit—and at imminent risk of slipping into the creek—they were far outdistanced by the rest of the party. The three horses, meanwhile, had been left standing in the glade at the mouth of the run, quietly grazing on the grass. A sharp turn of the path finally brought Linn and the captain to the yawning, black mouth of Alexander’s Cave. In the entrance stood Bruce, Steve, and the two guards, all very much heated and excited. ‘*It’s no use, captain,’’ cried ‘«He’s given us the slip.”’ ‘Gone in the cave, do you mean?’’ de- manded Captain Cameron. ‘‘That’s bad. I’m sorry you couldn’t overtake him in time.’? ‘*We did our level best, sir,’? said Marsh, ‘“but he ran like a deer, in spite of his sprained ankle.’’ ‘*We followed him back to where the pas- sage ends at the wall,’’ added Sanders, ‘and saw him shin up like a cat and wrig- gle through the crevice at the top. It was no use to follow without a light.’? ‘*No, that’s true,’’ admitted the captain, who seemed much vexed and angered. ‘‘This is a most provoking affair, ard it must be entirely settled before 1 leave for Washington; I can’t postpohe the trip later than to-morrow night. Leaving the theft out of the question, Deerfoot must be caught and made an example of before the other pupils. There have been too many escapes, or attempted eseapes, recently, and I intend to put a stop to it once for all.’’ ‘It won’t be easy to find him, father,’’ said Bruce. ‘‘The cave has about a thousand rooms and passages in it, and all sorts of queer nooks and holes.”’ ; ‘‘And the young rascal has no light,’’ added Sanders. He’ll get himseff hopelessly lost, and starve to death.’’ “‘T don’t think it is quite so bad as that,’’ replied Captain Cameron, ‘‘but he has cer- tainly done a foolish thing in taking refuge in the cave. If he counts on escaping in the end he will find himself mistaken. This is the only outlet.’ ‘“‘There is said to be another one,’’ as- ee Bruce. ‘*You remember about the oO: dic A ew : ‘‘Nonsense!’’? interrupted his father. ‘“That story was never corroborated, and is too doubtful for belief. as ‘‘Prompt action is needed,’’ the captain went on, ‘‘and I see only one thing to do. Sanders, I will leave you and Marsh here to guard the mouth of the cavern. Keepa sharp watch, and do not stir from your post on any pretext whatever. I will return as soon as possible with a search party and lanterns. And I will try to get old Toby Gunnison to act as guide. He knows more about the cave than any man living—though that’s not saying much. However, a thorough search of the passages will result in the capture of the fugitive.’’ , ‘‘father, may Steve and I stay here with the men???’ asked Bruce. ‘‘Our boat is up at the mouth of the run; and we have some lunch in a basket.’’ : ‘‘Yes, you may stay,’’ replied the cap- tan, after a moment’s thought. ‘‘This is the If I let you go you Jp erate Captain Cameron was fac Sanders. whole town within half an hour, and I don’t want that to happen. ‘Now, Linn,’’- the captain added, stern- ly, ‘‘I have one question to ask you. A truthful answer can do you no harm, but will prove to your advantage. Where is the rest of the stolen money—the three hundred and seventy-five dollars?’’ ‘‘T know nothing of it, Captain Cam- eron,’’ Linn answered, hoarsely. ‘‘Is it pos- sible that you persist in believing me guilty? I am the victim of a most fiendish plot, and if Deerfoot were here, 1am sure he could and would clear me. Nor have you heard all of my story. Let me tell it in full, and I am satisfied that I can convince you——”’ ‘No, not a word,’’ interrupted the cap- tain. ‘*You have been well schooled in lying and deceit, and I don’t wish to burden your soul with any more sins. Deerfoot is not here, and if he was, I doubt if he could clear you. I shall take you home with me now, and keep you there until I have made arrangements for the cave to be searched. Then I will turn you over to your father, and he may deal with you as he sees fit. Come, I have no.time to waste.’’ © Knowing that further appeal would be useless, Linn quietly submitted to be taken by the arm, and led forward along the path. As he passed around the bend, he looked back, and saw Steve watching him with a smile of wicked triumph. Bruce had turned his back, and was talking to Sanders. The horses were found where they had been left, and Captain Cameron tied one of them to a small tree. He mounted another, and helped Linn to climb into the saddle of the third. Then he teok the lad’s bridle and his own, and they rode across the run, and up the rugged hollow of the ravine. It was a sad and bitter ride for Linn. Twice he attempted to speak, in the hope of proving his innocence by telling the whole story; but each time the captain sternly and angrily cut him short, saying that he wished to hear nothing. After that the lad rode on in gloomy silence. The future seemed black and almost hopeless, for he was aware what a terrible chain of circumstantial evidence had been woven around him, and he felt that his own story, unsupported by proof, might utterly fail to clear him. The thought of Steve’s base conduct made him fairly tremble with rage, but he still felt some slight pity and affection for Bruce, knowing that he had been led astray by a stronger and more evil mind than his own. ***T have two chances,’’ he said to himself. ‘*Bruce is not entirely bad, and he is already ashamed of what he has done. If I can talk to him apart from Steve he may confess everything and clear me. And Deerfoot will certainly clear me if he is caught, and can be made to understand the situation. As soon as he realizes the fix I am in, he will own up to getting the money from Bruce. ‘*But suppose they don’t find Deerfoot! He may keep out of the way of the search- ers, or possibly he may lose himself in some hole or passage, and never be found. Alex- ander’s Cave is a terrible place, and nobody knows all its jns and outs. Well, I hope something will turn up soon. If father is persuaded that I am guilty of this theft there will be no end to his passion.’’ By this time the schoul was reached, and Captain Cameron and his companion rode in at the main gate, passing through groups of curious young Indians, who were eager for news of Deerfoot. As soon as he dismounted, Linn was turned over to a guard, anda little later he found himself locked up in the cellar under the sleeping quarters—in a small and gloomy cell, without windows, which was used for refractory pupils. It was still early in the afternoon, and for hours Linn was kept a prisoner. The greater part of the time he paced up and down the damp floor, alternately hopeful and despond- ent, as he reflected on the chances of proy- ing his innocence or being proved guilty. It was quite dark when a guard opened the door and led Linn up the steps, and out into the grounds. He conducted him straight to the captain’s house, and into a room on the first floor which was used as a library and office. Here, beside a table on which a lamp was burning brightly, the Jad found his father and Captain Cameron sitting. ‘Linn, here is your father,’’ said the cap- tain. ‘‘Isent for him in order to avoid as much publicity as possible. I hope his per- suasions will have more effect on you than mine have had.”’ Mr. Hilliard rose to his feet, trembling slightly. His face was pale with anger, and there was a look of agony and grief in his sunken eyes. ‘‘T have heard all of this terrible story,’’ he said, hoarsely. ‘‘The captain has in- formed me of your crime, and of your ob- stinate refusal to confess. He has told me of your dastardly conduct in trying to fasten the robbery on two of your companions. I eannot doubt your guilt. I refused you twenty-five dollars yesterday, and you turn around and steal five hundred. What have you to say for yourself?’’ ‘“‘Father, have you ever known me to be ‘dishonest?’’ cried Linn, struggling hard to keep his composure. ‘‘I swear I am inno- cent, sir—I implore you to believe me. I have never told you a lie, and I won’t do so now. Appearances are terribly against me —I admit that—but when you have heard the whole story you must believe me inno- cent.’’ As calmly as possible, the lad related the adventures of the previous night—how he had gone out for a walk, and met Steve and Bruce; how he suspected them, and fol- lowed them into the grounds of the Indian School, and how he had overheard their conversation, and then been caught by San- ders. He ended by telling of the search for the lads that morning, and of what had happened after he found them along the creek. i ‘‘That is all,’’ he concluded, earnestly, ‘*but every word is true.’? ‘*Your son has told a clever string of falsehoods, Mr. Hilliard,’’ exclaimed the captain, ‘‘much as it grieves me to say so. He is still bent on shifting the robbery on others. Bruce was in bed at the time Linn was caught in the grounds, and I am satis- fied that he had been there for at least an hour. And I have taken pains to ascertain that Stephen Halsey was in his 100m at the college all evening. Two of his fellow- students corroborate this statement of Stephen’s.’’ **It is all false!’’ cried Linn, losing heart and self-possession in the face of this added evidence. ‘‘Bruce could not have been in bed five minutes, and Steve is making. his friends lie for him. I am innocent, father— oh, please believe me! The truth is bound to come out. Wait until Deerfoot is brought back. Hecan clear me, and he will do it, too. He knows——’’ Just then came a startling interruption. Footsteps were heard on the porch and in the ball, and Sanders strode into the room, flushed and excited. “It’s all up with the Indian, Captain Cameron,’’ he cried. ‘‘We followed his tracks into a new passage that old Toby Gunnison never knew of before, and the foot-prints ended at a_ big hole thirty feet deep. There’s running water below, and Deerfoot must have tumbled down to his death. There an’t the shadow of a chance for him.”’ Captain Cameron turned pale. ‘This is'terrible news,’’ he said. busy now, Sanders. join you presently.”’ As Sanders left the room, the captain turned to Linn. ‘*You hear?’’ he questioned. ‘‘If this is true—and 1 fear it is—Deerfoot’s story of the crime will never be told. Confess, my boy. Fall on your knees, and beg your father’s forgiveness.’ ‘‘That he shall never have!’ cried the banker, bringing his fist down on the table in a spasm of rage. . ‘Tam Go outside, and f will name. I will pay back the five hundred dol- lars, and save you from the penalty of the law. Here is the money that was found in | It is the last penny your pocket. Take it. you will get from me.’’ He strode over to Linn, and thrust the i roll of bank-notes into the lad’s bosom. ~ ‘*Now go!’’ he thundered, in a voice that shook with passion. ‘‘I don’t care what be- comes of you. Never let me see your face again—never dare to darken my door!?? Without a word, Linn put on his hat and left the room. He passed out of the house, heedless of Captain Cameron’s summons to come back, and vanished in the darkness. CHAPTER IX. A MIDNIGHT VISITOR. ; Hilliard strode instinctively across vw the Indian School grounds to the broken board in the fence. He found the place still unrepaired—and no doubt, undis- covered—and quickly crept through to the ic road. Amid the chaos of conflicting thoughts; two things. were uppermost in the lad’s mind as he stumbled along in the darkness, drifting without aim or purpose toward the town. And these two things were the cruel and unjust treatment he had just received © at the hands of his father, and the terrible fate of Deerfoot. He did not doubt that Deerfoot was dead, and while he felt a great sorrow and pity for him he did not fail to realize the effect upon his own fortunes which the disaster to the young Indian was sure to have. There was no immediate prospect of his innocence being proved. Bruce alone could do that, and Linn had no hopes from that quarter. When he thought of the scene in Captain Cameron’s house hot tears came into the lad’s eyes. He could hardly comprehend the truth. It was difficult to believe that he had been disowned and cast out—driven away from home with bitter and angry words, and bidden never to darken his father’s door again. 4 He felt a bulky object pressed between his coat and vest, and suddenly remembered the money. He drew it out, and was about to cast it passionately away when a strong impulse stayed his hand. He rolled the bank-notes into a wad, and put them safely in his pocket. ‘*T had better swallow my pride,’’ he said to himself. ‘‘This is the last money I’m ’ ‘*Liar and thief, 1 dis- : own you! You are no longer a son of mine. — You are the first Hilliard to disgrace the (2,7 ITH his brain in a whirl of pas. XX Ys sion, indignation, and grief, Linn } yy 4550 GOOD likely to see for some time, and I think I will hold onto it, much as I hate to do so. Indeed, I can’t do without it. I don’t in- tend to stay in Carlisle, and I have no de- sire to turn tramp. -I never had a hundred dollars before, and this ought to last mea long time.’’ Linn had more than his share of the family pride, and this prevented him from yielding to despair, as well as helping him to make a speedy decision as to his future plans. On reaching the outskirts of the town, he seated himself on the edge of the curb, in the deep shadow of a tree. _< —____——_ {This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.,] THE FIGHTING ‘LADS OF DEVON; The Mystery of Giles Montford and Sydney Rookwood. A TALE OF THE GREAT SPANISH ARMADA BY ALFRED ARMITAGE, Author of ‘With Crusader and Saracen,” ‘In the Days of the Gladiators,” and “Loyal to Napoleon.” ye (“THE FIGHTING LADS OF DEVON” was com- menced in No, 278. Back numbers can be obtained | ’ of all News Agents. ) CHAPTER XXII. IN WHICH AN UNPLEASANT DUTY IS FORCED UPON STEPHEN TRENT. RENT did not see the lads go down, ? but at the first opportunity he looked anxiously around for them, and found <7" them missing. Then he realized what had happened, and with grief and rage in his heart he dashed anew at the foemen. It was a brave sight to see his blade flash- ing right and left, and at every telling stroke his exultant shout rang above the hoarse tumult. Though he recklessly ex- posed himself, caring not how soon death should come, he seemed to bear a charmed life. His desperate prowess and valor stimu- lated his comrades, and they supported him with such energy that the Spaniards were first checked, and then driven stubbornly back to the bulwark. Meanwhile the party on the other side of the ship, where the assault was less vigor- ously conducted, had successfully repelled the boarders by hurling down pieces of cannon and broken spars. Then, seeing how the fight was going with their comrades, they hurried across the deck. So fierce an attack was now made on the Spaniards that they could not withstand it. Many were slain in the very act of climbing over the bulwark, and as they fell they knocked down those who were scrambling up from below, The few who gained the deck were surrounded, and hacked and clubbed to death. There now ensued a brief lull in the fight, which gave the defenders a chance to scatter again to their posts. The carpenter and cook hurried up from below with more hot water and pitch. Captain Vane was still alive, and his hearty voice cheered and encouraged the men for what was likely to prove the last struggle. It was not long delayed. With yelling and shouting the Spaniards closed in on the ship again from both sides, and swarmed nimbly up to the bulwarks. Fresh boats had drawn near, and these held soldiers who were armed with arquebuses. They took no part in the boarding, but from a little distance they singled out the Englishmen at every chance, and fired at them with keen aim. Here and there some brave officer or sea- man could be seen to stagger back from the bulwark and fall down in a quivering heap. The ship’s carpenter was shot through the head as he was leaning over the water, and he and his kettle of boiling pitch plunged together into one of the Spanish boats. But the fate of their comrades only roused the survivors to a greater degree of despera- tion and ferocity, and the Spaniards, as they swarmed again and again up both sides of the ship, met with a resistance that fairly disheatened them. The night rang with screams and curses, with the splash and thud of falling bodies, with the jangle of steel and the loud reports of arquebuses. During the height of the assault, and just as Captain Vane had run his sword between the ribs of a Spanish boarder, his arm was NEWS. tapped from behind. He wheeled around, and was amazed almost beyond words to find himself face to face with a stranger—a ments were dripping with water; he was, ynarmed, except for a dagger fastened at his waist. ‘‘Who are you?’’ gasped the ‘tWhere did you come from?’ ‘*Wrom Sluys, sir,’’ was the reply. ‘‘A comrade is waiting up the river farther in a boat. I swam down to the barricade, climbed over it, and swam on to the ship. A rope aided me to reach the forward deck None of the Spanish boats are near the bow, and in the darkness I was not seen.”’ ‘‘A brave deed, truly,’’ exclaimed Cap- tain Vane. ‘‘Is there any hope of aid from the town?”’ ‘‘None, sir; we have not a single vessel, and but few boats. When the Spanish bat- teries opened fire, Sir Roger Williams sus- pected what it meant, and he ordered me to captain. come down to the English ship, and to bring | f back any dispatches that its captain might ‘‘Nay, my country would blush for me did I yield to so cowardly a temptation,’’ eried Captain Vane. ‘‘I shalk stand by my ship to the last, and 1 bid you tell Sir Roger that I died like an Englishman. But here are the dispatches. Take them back with | you.’’ He was about to produce the packet when something occurred that checked his hand. A. desperate assault ata weak point suddenly | poured a number of Spaniards over the bulwark and down upon the deck. They drove the defenders steadily back, and /} in the hot struggle that ensued, the messen- ger from Sluys was the first to ‘fall, stabbed in the throat by a pike point. Captain Vane caught sight of the bleeding body under his feet as he stubbornly re- treated before the advancing foemen, and he was sorely perplexed to know what to do. The dispatches must be saved, since the op- | portunity was ready, but he could not bri ing | himself to desert the ship, even at the call of so imperative a duty. He realized that but brief time was left to decide, for the Spaniards were now pouring thickly over the bulwarks, and on both sides the Englishmen were falling back toward | the center of the ship. A husky roar of tri- umph swelled on the air as the invaders found that the hard-won victory was at last within their grasp. But Captain Vane’s right arm was not | idle while his mind was thus engaged, and | he struck more than one mortal blow as he | retreated foot by foot with those who re- mained of his gallant crew. The terrific hand-to-hand struggle grew fiercer and fiercer, and the swarthy-faced Spaniards in- | creased in numbers as boat after boat tum- bled its occupants upon the deck of the Adventure. ‘‘Down with the bloody Spaniards!’’ cried a ringing voice. ‘‘Strike for old England, comrades, and no surrender. fighting to the last. Ay, taste that, you knave!’’ The speaker was Trent, and with the last! words he drove his sword deep into the chest of a burly Spaniard, sending him reeling back among his companions. With a sudden impulse, Captain Vane pushed to the spot, and caught Trent by the arm. ‘*T want you!’’ he shouted. ‘‘This way.’’ He dragged him to the center of the deck, where there was a little space between the two slowly closing lines of defenders Here they were safe for the present, and | Captain Vane briefly explained the situation | to his companion. ‘*You must save these,’’ he added, hand- ing him the dispatches. ‘‘You know what | to do. Slip forward while you have the chance, and drop into the water. You will | find the boat waiting above the barrier.’’ ‘‘Nay, do you go!’’ Trent obstinately | cried. ‘‘ Your life is worth more to England than mine. I shall stay here and perish with the rest.’’ ‘“That is my duty,’’ replied Captain Vane. ‘“‘T command you to go. Dare you refuse to obey your officer??? ‘‘T refuse,’? said Trent. words, but be off at once.’ ‘“You are a brave fellow!’’ cried Captain Vane, ‘‘but you must yield to duty. The dispatches are of great importance, and by saving them you will do more valuable service to your country than if——’’ The loud report of an arquebuse cut short his utterance, and he fell heavily to the deck with a ball through his forehead. He gasped once or twice, held the dispatches toward his companion, and then died. Trent no longer hesitated, sorely as he hated the duty thus thrust upon him. He | tucked the little packet of parchments under his head-piece, and looked sadly at the body of the brave officer, Then, with a last glance at the gallant comrades he was leav- ing to their fate, he slipped forward through the gloom, He had a narrow shave of it on the way, for two-Spaniards made savagely at him— from the bulwarks. He killed one ruffian, and crippled the other, and then a quick dash carried him out of reach of pursuit. ‘‘Waste no more ’ He safely gained the ship’s bow, which ! pointed up stream, and a hasty observation Die like men— | satisfied him that none of the Spanish boats was close by. He stripped off his armor, and the heavier part of his clothing, lowered himself softly into the black water, and swam vigorously up stream against the sluggish tide. CHAPTER XXIII. IN WHICH GILES AND SYDNEY ARE PRISON- ERS IN THE’ SPANISH CAMP. (757 ERE is‘one with life yet in him. He *ireq. «seems too young for an officer, nor dt does he look like an ordinary sea- >. man. Shall I empty my pistol into his head, captain?’’ ‘‘No, fool; it will likely get you into trouble if you do. You know the Duke’s | order concerning prisoners. They are certain |to hang in the end, and that will bea far better vengeance for our slain comrades. | The above conv ersation, uttered in gruff Spanish, and interlarded with sav age oaths, had the effect of rousing Giles from the stupor which he had been weakly struggling to throw off for some minutes. It was a bitter awakening, for his dazed |mind quickly comprehended the situation. He painfully lifted his head and shoulders, and crawled a couple of feet toa fallen spar, against which he propped his back. The two men whose voices he had heard were now standing by the bulwark, looking over at the water. | By the sickly light of a lantern fastened to the stump of “the mainmast, groups of | Spanish soldiers could be seen moving here and there over the deck, which presented a goasty sight with its litter of fallen debris, heaps of dead, and dull-gleaming pools and streams of blood. Above the hum of cursing and angry voices rose occasionally a pitiful cry for water from some wounded English- man or Spaniard. How long a time had elapsed since the end of the ‘struggle ¢ tiles could not tell. He knew by the rippling of water that the cap- | tured ship, with its rich prize of arms and | provisions, was in motion, and he judged , that it was being towed to shore. | The effort of looking around was too much for him, and sharp pains began to shoot through his head, He leaned back with a groan, and just then a faint voice ' called his name. Turning to one side, he saw Sydney sitting a few feet away with his hands clasped across his knees. Though every movement caused him acute agony, Giles crawled over to his friend, and | they leaned against each other. Before they could speak the vessel grounded with a dull bump and quiver, and then stood still. Over the bulwark in front of the lads rose the | black outline of the Spanish earthworks and batteries that were planted on top of the dykes. Evidently the ship was a few yards out from the bank, for the splash of oars was | followed an instant later by the appearance | on deck of a group of splendidly uniformed officers, while numbers of soldiers crowded onto the earthworks. Atacommand from one of the officers the work of lowering the dead and wounded into boats was begun, and the lads watched the ghastly scene for a time, shuddering at | the frequent screams of agony. They real- ized now, as never before, with what hor- rors the dark side of war was invested. ‘*The wounded they are taking away are all Spaniards,’’ said “Sydney. ‘‘I don’t see an Englishman among them.’’ ‘‘And not a single prisoner except our- selves,’’? replied Giles. ‘‘Weare the only | ones alive. Captain Vane must be dead, and poor Stephen.’ ‘Tt is awful!’’ groaned Sydney. ‘‘I won- ‘der what they will do with us. Just before you sat up a ruffianly soldier was going to shoot you, but an officer inter fered.™? | ‘*Y heard him,’’ said Giles. ‘‘That was | what brought me to my senses. He said any prisoners they took would be hanged in the end. The Duke of Parma is a cruel and | blood-thirsty man, and he is not likely to show us any mercy.’’ ‘*T have heard it said that he is far milder than the Duke of Alva,’’ declared Sydney, ‘*so there is some chance for us. Isn’t it strange that you and I should have lived to be made prisoners when all the rest of the brave crew of the Adventure are dead?”’ ‘‘We came close to sharing their fate,’ replied Giles, ‘‘which may have been the best thing for us. Do you remember when | you were hit? It was with the wrong end of a pike, and you dropped without a cry.’ | Sydney put bis hand to a great purple | lump on the side of his head. ‘¢] don’t remember anything about it,’’ he said, ‘‘but when I opened my eyes a | while ago I thought my head was split in two. It feels a little better now. ‘*But you have a far worse hurt, Giles,’’ he added. ‘‘There isa broad cut straight ,across your forehead. It looks as though | the flesh had been plowed out by a bullet.’’ ‘‘That’s what it must have been,’’ said | Giles, ‘‘for I heard the report of an arque- ' buse, and then I felt a stinging pain over the eyes. I don’t remember anything after that.’’ | He tenderly put his fingers to the wound, which seemed to have stopped bleeding. ‘‘Does it hurt much?’’ asked Sdyney. ‘*Badly,’’? answered Giles, with a groan; | GooDp ‘*but the most pain is in my head. I don’t mind the other so much. It is only a flesh wound, and don’t seem to have even laid bare the bone.”’ Just then a young and _ fierce-looking Spanish officer came up to the lads and cursed them roundly, threatening to blow off their heads if they uttered another word. He stepped aside for a moment, and re- turned with four soldiers, who at once took hold of Giles and Sydney, and lifted them up with brutal carelessness. It was all that the lads could do to keep from crying out with pain as they were car- ried to the bulwark and roughly lowered into a boat. The bank was only a few yards away, and when the boat touched the pris- oners were compelled to stand on their feet. Then they were dragged over the dyke, past frowning cannon and pits full of powder | and ball, and thence along what seemed to be the main street of the Spanish camp. As far as they could see, misty rows of tents stretched away under the starry night, with here and there -a solitary camp-fire shining on the surrounding canvas. In the foreground were bustle and excitement, and groups of swarthy soldiers came pressing up to the guards, eager for a glimpse of the English prisoners. A number of bewildering turns were made through the camp, and when the lads were finally pushed into a small-sized tent, they had no idea in which direction the river lay. Their present quarters were provided with a couple of straw pallets, and they threw themselves down on these, too sick and wretched to talk, or to feel worried over their uncertain fate. After the day broke they obtained a few hours sleep, and in the afternoon they were visited by a German physician attached to the camp, who greatly relieved the pain they were suffering by medicines and by bandaging their injuries. They slept well that night, and awoke feeling much better and stronger, Giles’ wound was beginning to heal, and Sydney’s swollen bruise had gone down. They were able to eat with a relish the food that was brought them, but they did not get a glimpse outside, though their curiosity was excited by the incessant commotion. ‘wo soldiers kept guard at the entrance of the tent, the flaps of which were tightly drawn. On the following morning the Duke of Parma himself, accompanied by several of his staff, condescerded to visit the prisoners, and Giles and Sydney looked with interest and dread at the famous commander. His features were rather mild in expression, but his hard, piercing eyes showed that he was not a stranger to cruelty and passion. By a few adroit questions the duke quickly ascertained that the lads had no information of value; the fact was a fortunate one for them, since had they been possessed of any important knowledge they would cer- tainly have refused to divulge it, and there- by would have incurred serious peril. They readily admitted that they had been with Drake on his expedition, and at this the duke’s brow contracted with anger; he had long since received word of the Spanish disasters at Cadiz and Cape St. Vincent. But he made no further mention of the matter, and contented himself with inquir- ing of the lads if, they knew the nature of the dispatches Captain Vane was _ bearing to Sluys, or if they knew what had become of the dispatches themselves. They unhesitatingly answered no to both these questions, and the duke appeared to be satisfied that they were speaking the truth. He brusquely cut short the interview and departed with his staff, leaving the lads as ignorant as ever as to what their ultimate fate would be. The fact that tbe dispatches had not been found puzzled them considerably, and for the first time a suspicion entered their minds that either Captain Vane or some other of the crew of the Adventure had succeeded in escaping. They heartily wished that such was the case. ; Strangely enough, the duke had failed to ask them their names, an omission that was greatly to Giles’ relief. He knew that Don Ferdinand Gonzales was almost certainly known to the Duke of Parma, and he much preferred his present circumstances to fall- ing into the clutches of his cruel uncle—an opinion to which Sydney assented. It did not occur to either that the rela- tionship might prove of service in case they were in any danger of death. The fear of hanging constantly overshadowed them dur- ing the first three or four days of their cap- tivity, but it gradually passed away as the dread summons failed to come, and they concluded that their lives were to be spared. For more than a week they were kept closely confined, and though the tent was in the rear quarter of the vast camp, they could hear plainly by day and night the ominous sounds that told of the desperate siege of Sluys—the roar of cannon, the crackle of musketry, the rumble of falling walls and tiles, and the explosions of the Spanish mines. » At rare intervals, through the tent flaps, they saw dead and wounded being carried by; or they gleaned from the conversation of passing soldiers that the garrison of Shrys was still maintaining a stubborn resistance, and that the town was as far from capture as ever. ‘The officer marched at the head of the little They hoped that it would successfully hold out, or that an English force would come to its relief—in which latter event they. stood a chance of being freed. ‘But their hopes must have vanished had they known the strength of the Spanish camp, in the very midst of | which they were held in close confinement | and ignorance. i Under the Duke of Parma was assembled at least twenty thousand men, including a number of regiments of Germans, Italians, and Burgundians, and twenty-four troops of | horse. The garrison of Sluys, which was a | strongly fortified town, however, consisted | of about sixteen hundred English and Dutch. So ten days slipped by, and at the end of that time Giles and Sydney were as strong as ever again, and were thoroughly satisfied that the utmost they need fear was an in- definite prolongation of their irksome cap- tivity. On the night of the twentieth of July they went to sleep, as usual, to the pacing tread of the sentries. In the cold, gray dawn of the morning they were brutally awakened, and hauled to their feet. In the tent stood a grim-featured Spanish officer, and behind him were six soldiers, one of whom held a coil of rope. In wondering tones the half-stupefied lads demanded to know what was wanted with | them. ‘*You are to be hanged immediately,’’ replied the officer, ‘‘by command of the Duke of Parma.’’ ‘*Hanged?’’ cried Giles. ‘* Ay, hanged—hanged by the neck till you are dead, you Protestant ruffians!’’ and the officer laughed mockingly. ‘‘It is the fault of your friends,’’ he added. ‘‘At midnight two of our officers were taken in a sortie against Sluys, and they were at once hung inside St. George’s Gate. To retaliate, the Duke of Parma has ordered your execution. Come, it is time to start.’’ } | } | } } CHAPTER XXIV. GILES AND SYDNEY NEARLY HANGED. IN WHICH ARE VERY AD they been granted some time for ‘HYo} preparation, the unfortunate Jads A ee would doubtless have faced their > doom with fortitude and resigna- tion. But it was a ghastly thing to be awakened thus from sleep, and bidden to prepare for immediate death. Little wonder that their limbs trembled, or that their faces paled with horror. They stupidly permitted their wrists to be fettered, and then they passed out of the tent, each in the custody of three soldiers. party, leading the way across one end of the vast camp. Dawn was just breaking, and patches of silvery light were glowing over the eastern horizon; westward the stars were twinkling out of the blackish sky. But early as was the hour the camp was astir, and here and there the breakfast fires were being kindled. Swarthy soldiers, with drowsiness still in their eyes, came running from all directions to get a look at the English lads who were going to their doom. It was fully a mile to the place of execu- tion, and before half the distance was trav- ersed Giles and Sydney had shaken off every trace of fear or terror, and only the expression of their eyes showed how bitter was the prospect of so cruel and ignoble a death. They marched with a space of sev- eral yards between them, and so they had no chance to talk. At last the clustered tents gave way to rows of baggage wagons, barrels of powder, stacks of cannon-balls, and all the litter and debris of a besieging camp. The dyke loomed up ahead, capped with its frowning earthworks, and here the narty turned to ‘the left, passing along the rear of the bat- téries where the powder-grimed bombardiers were preparing for the day’s action. — Then a quick passage through a slit in the dyke, a sharp turn to one side, and the dread spot was reached. The party halted before what was known as the small castle. It lay on the opposite bank of the river from the town, and had fallen into the hands of the Spaniards at the commence- ment of the siege. Though it was badly battered by the Dutch and English guns, the big, square gate-way was still intact. The soldier with the coil of rope, and a companion, climbed to the top of this. They divided the rope in two parts, and began to fasten the ends to some iron hooks in the stone-work. Two more soldiers dragged a rude cart out of the castle, and placed it under the gate-way. The two remaining soldiers guarded the prisoners, and the officer, after watching the preparations for a moment, strolled over to the spot. ‘Have a little patience,’’ he said, with a brutal’ laugh, ‘‘we will soon be ready for you. Do you wish a priest? There may be one near,”’ At this sneering insult the lads flushed with anger. They said nothing, but merely shook their heads. They could scarcely real- ize that in a short time they would be dead, nor could they keep their eyes from _linger- ing on the fair scene that stretched before them in the golden light of the rising sun. They were but a few yards from the verge | over the walls at the Spanish camp. NEWS. 4551 of the bank, and in clear view across the river Zwin lay the heroic little town of Sluys. Its line of ramparts and water-gates stretched right and left along the shore, dotted here and there with a clumsy wind- mill. In the background rose the tower of the town hall, and the lofty spires of three | churches. The distance was not so far but that hun- dreds of eager faces could be seen gazing Evi- dently the Duke of Parma had chosen this spot in order that the execution of the pris- oners might be witnessed by the garrison of Sluys. ‘*We are ready for you,’’ said the officer. ‘‘Take your last look.’’ He tapped the lads on the shoulders, and they turned around with a start to find that two noosed ropes were dangling from the top of the gate-way. With pallid faces and wistful eyes, they walked to the cart, and | mountedeit without assistance. Two soldiers climbed up behind them, and placed them side by side in thesproper positions. ‘Farewell, Sydney,’’ Giles whispered. ‘*Tt will be over in a moment. We will show them how Englishmen can die.’ ‘‘If they would only shoot us,’? Sydney replied. ‘‘That is the true death for a soldier, but this——’’ His voice choked as the noose was _ slipped about his neck. At the same instant Giles felt the rope tighten under his chin, and he could not re- press a shudder. The two soldiers jumped down, and hurried around.to take hold of the shaft of the cart with their companions. The officer glanced up at the prisoners, and then looked carelessly across the river. Instantly his expression changed, and he uttered a sharp exclamation. He made a signal to his men, and they dropped the shaft of the cart. Giles and Sydney had closed their eyes, but they opened them as soon as they heard the commotion. Looking across the river they saw that which stirred a sudden hope in their hearts. A skiff was moving swiftly over the Zwin toward the Spanish camp. One man was rowing, and another stood erect in the bow waving a white flag. At the mouth of an embrasure in the town ramparts stood a group of half a dozen peo- ple, and the two foremost wore Spanish uni- forms. ‘¢Are those our fellows who were taken last night?’’ exclaimed the officer, shading his eyes with his hand. ‘‘But no—they were certainly hung.’’ ‘*Then they have come to life again,’’ de- clared one of the soldiers. ‘‘I’ll swear they are the same.’’ ‘*Yes, it seems so,’’ said the officer. ‘‘The execution must be deferred. Take the pris- oners down.’’ The order was hesitatingly obeyed, and Giles and Sydney could scarcely realize their good fortune when they found them- selves standing on the ground at some dis- tance from the dangling nooses. But they were not sure as yet that their lives would be spared, and they waited in anxious sus- pense to see thé result of the interruption. As the boat touched the shore the man with the white flag sprang out, and handed a letter to the officer. The latter hastily opened and read it, and after a brief con- versation he called one cf his men to him, and gave him an order. The soldier took the letter, hurried over the dyke, and was lost to sight in the camp. The interval that followed seemed long and painful to the lads. They were still closely guarded by the soldiers. The officer stood on the edge of the bank, chatting with the two messengers from Sluys, and the group over at the foot of the town ram- parts could be seen gazing intently across. In a little less than half an hour the clat- ter of hoofs was heard at a distance, and presently the Duke of Parma, accompanied by three of his staff, rode down to the shore. They joined the officer and the messengers, and held a brief consultation, during which the letter was frequently referred to. Then an agreement was suddenly reached, and the two envoys put off in their boat. They rowed swiftly across the river, and a minute or two after they had landed at the ramparts,, a larger craft started for the Spanish camp, having six persons on board. It made a quick passage, and as it touched the shore in front of the castle the two offi- cers who had been captured the night before stepped out, and were joyously received by the Duke of Parma and his companions. Giles and Sydney now realized the thrill- ing truth. Not only were their lives safe, but they were about to be exchanged. So it proved, for the soldiers, at a signal from the duke, untied the lad’s fetters and led them down to the waiting boat. They stepped in, trembling with happiness, and the four English oarsmen pulled _lustily across the Zwin. Five minutes later the boat landed at the foot of the ramparts, and the young prison- ers who had been so timely rescued from a cruel death were warmly greeted by a num- ber of soldiers from the garrison. Then the lads were taken into the town through one of the gates, and here they were surrounded by kind friends. The crowd that pressed forward to greet them was composed mostly of Dutch and English soldiers, but it also included Sir Roger Williams, the Dutch | Governor of the town, a number of portly burghers, and a few women and children. The first thing that Giles and .Sydney heard was the explanation of their rescue. [t seems that two of the town people had been detected in sending dispatches to the enemy, and it was they who were hung in- side St. George’s Gate at midnight. Buta spy had slipped out of the town shortly afterward, and reported to the Duke of Parma that the two captive officers had been hung. The garrison of Sluys did not know that any English prisoners were -in the Spanish camp, and their first intimation of it was when they saw the lads brought forward for execution. As quickly as possible, they dis- patched an envoy with an offer of ex- change, and as the Spanish officers hap- pened to be of high rank, the Duke of Parma readily accepted the proposition. No doubt he believed he was getting the best of the bargain. It was Sir Roger Williams himself who explained this to the lads, and when he saw that they were considerably unnerved by what they had passed through, he forebore to ask them any questions. ‘*T will speak with you later in the day,’’ he said, ‘‘when you have résted and eaten. For the present, I will assign you to com- fortable quarters, and see that» your wants are cared for.”’ Meanwhile, a stalwart and handsome man, who was standing near, had been watching Giles in a most peculiar and atten- tive manner, and with a look of sadness in his eyes. He was richly dressed, and his face indicated culture and refinement. He was probably sixty-five years of age, and he might have passed for an English gentleman but for his long pointed beard and curling mustache, which were iron-gray in color. As the English Governor ceased speaking this stranger stepped forward. ‘Permit me to take charge of these brave lads, Sir Roger,’’? he exclaimed. ‘‘I will show them every attention and hospitality, and they shall be at your service when you need them.’’ 4 ‘‘T have no objection, Master Ruys Van Hartsen,’’* replied Sir Roger; ‘‘they surely could not be in better hands.’’ He introduced the gentleman to Giles and Sydney as the burgomaster of Sluys, and after a cordial handshaking, the lads started toward the center of the town with their new friend. They had gone but a short distance when Giles uttered a shrill exclamation, and fran- tically jerked Sydney’s arm, ‘*Look!’’ he cried, pointing to one side of the street. (TO BE CONTINUED.) ——_—_+-o»___ A MAN OF HIS WORD. A certain merchant was noted for his punctuality, and for his trustworthiness. If he made a promise, even to a beggar or a little child, nothing would be allowed ‘to hinder him from keeping his word. One day he sent a carpenter to execute some work for him. Knowing that the man was not very particular about his promises, he asked: ‘*When can you have this job finished?”’ The reply was: ‘‘Tf Iam alive, you may depend on the work being done by next ‘Thursday at noon.’’ The merchant went to look on Thursday afternoon and found, as he had feared, that the work was not half done. On his way home he went to the newspa- per office and handed in an announcement of the carpenter’s death, for next morning’s paper. Picture the surprise of the man when on the following morning he read the report of his own death. He traced the news to the merchant, who reminded him of his own words, and said: ‘As the work was not done, I concluded that you were not alive.”’ —___~+_- e+ “SOLD.” As the man went across the street several ersons saw it, and turned to laugh at him. The second boy, who was waiting across the street, ran up to the man and said: a ‘*Mister, there’s a card hooked to your coat behind. Let me take it off.’’ ‘*Goodness me!’? did that get there?”’ ‘‘One o’? them ragamuffins put it on, I s’pose.’? ‘*‘Confound them! you.”’ Two minutes later the good little boy hung it on a fat man, and his partner on the other side collected another dime. He had to ask for it, but he got, it. A man would be a brute to refuse a dime to a poor boy who had done him such a service. said the man. ‘'How Well, here’s a dime for **Yes,’’ said the girl who collects, ‘‘it is one of the best autographs I have in my col- lection.’? ‘‘But are you sure it is genuine?’’ asked her friend. ‘Positive. I cut it from a telegram that his wife received from him with my own hands.’’ eterna trea 5: gress See Bios selina : i fi » i i ISSUED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, OCTOBER 19, 1895. Terma to Good News Mail Subscribers: (POSTAGE I’ REE.) 3months - - - - = 65c,"| One Year's 9.98) *..\ $2.50 4months - - - - - 85c. | 2copies, one year- - 4.00 6months - - - - -$1.25! Llcopy, two years - -, 4.00 Goop News anv N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50 How ‘to Senn Monty.—By post-oflice or express money order, rezistered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk, if sent by postal note, currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. RENEWALS.—The number indicated on your address label denotes when your subscription expires. All subscriptions will be stopped promptly at expiration of time paid for. Recerprs.—Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not cor rect you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. ‘ro CLuB Ratsrers.—Upon request we will send sam- ple copies to aia you in obtaining subscribers A{GuNTS.—Our responsibility for remittances applies oily tosnech as are sent to us direct, and we will not gnarantee the reliability of any subscription agency «xr postinaster. All letters should be addressed to STREET & SIITTES GOOD NEWS, : 27 & 20 Rose Street, N.Y. Back numbers of GOOD NEWS can always be obtained from your Newsdealers. If they do not have them please send direct to this office and we will supply them by mail on receipt of price. Advertising rates, 50 cents per agate line. Contents of this Number. — depart SERIAL STORIES. “Fearless and True,” by Henry Harrison Haines. “In Barracks and Wigwam,” by William Murray Graydon. “The Jack of Diamonds,” by John Blake Strong. “Center-Board Jim,” by Lieut. Lionel Lounsberry. “The Fighting Lads of Devon,” by Alfred Armitage. “By Pluck Alone,” by Harvey Hicks. “Boats, Bats and Bicycles,” by Ernest A. Young. «That Coon ’Rastus,” by **Peter.” SHORT STORIES. “A Perilous Climb,” by Harry Colling- wood. REGULAR DEPARTMENTS. ‘Short Talks With the Boys,” by Arthur Sewall, ‘How to Do Things,” by David Parks. “Our Stamp Album.” “Mail Bag,” “Olub Notices,” ete. WEEK AFTER NEXT. + A splendid story of business life in modern Japan BY ENRIQUE H. LEWIS. o—— Harry Dangerfield’s companion story to “The Boy Cattle King” will follow shortly. 0 TO LEARN TO SWIM. The Marquis de Pontelimar was once en- gaged in an argument with the King of Portugal on the power of kings. Tho sovereign, who would admit no limit- ations to his authority, warmly observed that: ‘‘Tf he ordered the marquis to throw him- self into the sea, he ought, without hesita- tion, to jump into it headforemost.’? At these words, Pontelimar immediately turned short, and went toward the door. ‘*Where are you going?’’ asked the mon- arch, in a tone of surprise. ‘*To learn to swim, sire,’’ replied the mar- quis. The king laughed heartily, and the dis- cussion ended. ———_+- e-» —___ A middle-aged lady, one day calling on a friend, was much amused at a little girl, aged four years, who, after prattling to her for some little time, asked: ‘*How old are ’oo, dear?”’ ‘ The lady, much taken aback at the ques- tion, replied: ‘*How old should you think I am?’’ ‘“‘Well,’’ said the little girl, after several moments of thought, ‘‘’oo’s rather crum- pled; me finks ’00 must be a hundred!?? CrOoOD “Exchange Department,”. (OLD! GOLD! GOLD A Wonderful Offer ! iGuk The Greatest Ever Made by Any Boys’ Paper ! commeav bee > emcees GUESS THe ENDING OF THE STORY, THE JACK OF DIAMONDS, And Win a Big Amount of Money! a “The Jack of Diamonds” is a splen- did detective story, to write which the publishers of Goop News have engaged one of the most eminent authors in that line of work. This great story will be printed in Goop News in twelve installments, be- ginning with No. 282, issued on Septem- ber 14. The eleventh installment will ap- pear in No. 292, issued November 23, and then the readers of Goop Nrws 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. 285. For the first received explanation of the last installment, which is correct and most complete, Goop News will $100. $100. For the next best sclutions, One Prize of Fifty Dollars in Gold! One Prize of Twenty-five Dollars in Gold! Five Prizes of Ten Dollars in Gold! One Hundred Dollars in Gold! In all—Two Hundred and Twenty-five Dollars! Now read, and guess what will be in the last installment of THE JACK OF DIAMONDS. Guesses shou!d be written in plain language, and with no attempt to write a final installment in the author’s style. Simply guess what the ending of the story will be. . Guesses will be received at any time after the publication of the first install- ment. The time of mailing the guess will be taken into consideration, thus putting all our readers, far or near, on the same basis. No one, except the author, not even the editor of this paper, knows how. the story will end. —o—_— NOW, BOYS! READ THIS MARVELOUS STORY! PUT ON YOUR THINKING CAPS! AND WIN A BIG PRIZE! For further information, address Prize Story, Care Goop News, New York City. | bined number of times the letter ‘‘o” (in LETTER ‘'o” GUESSING CONTEST delelralealpaneciond Magnificent Prizes GIVEN AWAY Successtul Guessers coccinea meanest Read Carefully the Following Terms: To any reader of this paper who shall, at any time on or before October 10, 1895, send us the nearest correct guess of the com- any size or style of type, capitals and italics included) will be contained in all the printed matter that will appear in the first column of the second page of ten issues of this paper, numbered 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, and 288, we will give A First-Class, tigh-Grade Bicyele! For the second nearest guess we will give A Gold- Filled Hunting - Case Watch, Waltham Movement! For the third, A Solid Silver Hunting - Case Watch, Waltham Movement! ; For the next twenty nearest guesses we will give A Printing Outfit, containing about twelve alphabets of type, a three-line holder, self-supplying ink pad, tweezers, quads, ete. Guess the tofal for the ten issues—not a separate guess for each issue. Only ordinary reading matter will be put in the first column of the second page in the ten issues, the same as if no guessing were going on. No one knows in advance what reading matter will appear in these columns, not even the editor. An official count will be made, and the result given as soon as possible after the last of the ten issues is published. The only condition of entry for the prizes is that you send the coupon, found be- low, with every guess. The time of mail- ing will count—not the time of receipt. Remember the competition closes October 10, 1895, and after that no guess can be for- warded. Cut out the coupon you find on this page, and send it to us with your guess, name, and full address clearly written. You can guess as many times as you have coupons. Of course, if you should take up a news- paper or book, and find out to your satisfac- tion how many times a given letter appears in any page or column of a certain size, it is quite easy for you, with a little calculation, to also make a guess (more or less correct, according to the correctness of your judg- ment) of the number of times any partic- ular letter will appear in a given number of pages or columns of a certain size, even if you do not actually see more than one of them, For instance, if you get a right ideaof the number of times the letter ‘‘o” occurs in the first column of the second page of this issue of this paper, you can estimate how many times the same letttr is likely to occur in the same column in nine futwre numbers of this paper, without your waiting to see those future numbers before you make your guess. Y We invite all of our friends to take part in this grand Prize Comprrrrion. Large prizes may be secured by those who are the most clever, and use the greatest care. We offer all our readers a remarkable oppor- tunity to win handsome prizes. My guess for the letter 0” is Residence....... dE eae Te ie aa ea City and State...... pape Cee GEL, (Cut this out, fill in the blank spaces, and mail to LETTER ‘‘O” CONTEST, GOOD News, 29 Rose Street, New York city.) ww SHORT FALKS —=— WwW ITH [HE ‘BOYS. EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL, —2 —_—_— eer W. H. B., Newark, N. J., writes: ‘‘Iam a boy 16 years of age, and am five feet two inches high. I am very anxious to become an actor, and to join a dramatic company that goes on the road every season. Will you kindly advise me what to do on the subject, such as particu- lars required of a person, and where to apply, wages, and general advice, etc. Where do most of the players practice to go on the road? How is my penmanship?’ R. E., New York city, writes: ‘I have for a long time been very anxious to become an actor. I have a good voice and can imitate a coon. Could you advise me what steps to take through your paper ?” J. N., Boston, Mass., writes: “I am a young fellow of 16, and would like to go on the stage. I have had this feeling since I was a little fellow. Would you please tell me what you would do about it?” AsI think JI have stated before, I re- ceive more letters inquiring about the stage than about any other profession. And this, after all, is not very extraordinary. Nine boys out of ten,. when they begin to go to the theater, think that they have discovered their vocation, and that with a little time and practice they could do just as well as the star. But this is a most egregious mistake, as most of them discover later on. There is no more exacting profession than that of the stage, none that demands harder and more exhausting work. Moreover, in no calling do so few aspirants for success ob- tain it, By success, I mean something more than a mere ‘living, which is not so very difficult to get. I mean a recognized posi- tion and a moderate fortune. For an uneducated boy to adopt the stage is worse than folly. The dramatic profes- sion demands of its votaries a thorough knowledge in many branches and a smatter- ing of many more. It is very difficult for a novice to obtain an opening. The only way is to write to the managers of such companies as you may select, stating in a modest way your desires, and capabilities; or, better still, obtain a personal interview, and show what you can do. If you can impress upon the manager that you have talent, he may give you an opportunity. The salaries of actors vary tremendously, from the utility man in a third or fourth-class company at ten dollars a week, to the leading man in one of our best theaters at from two hundred to three hun- dred dollarsa week. In traveling companies, all railway expenses are paid by the manage- ment. The preliminary rehearsals, as a rule, take place in the town in which the com- pany begins its season, and are always held in the theater. Your imitation of a coon, R. E., would not be of any advantage to you in the regular dramatic ‘profession, although it might enable you to do a ‘‘turn’’ upon the variety stage. Of course, there are exceptions, as when a young man is possessed of absolute genius, but, as a rule, my advice to all. my stage- struck boys who desire to become actors, is the same as Punch’s famous advice to per- sons about to marry: Don’t! W. H. B.’s penmanship is very good in- deed. [have received a very large number of letters in regard to the ‘‘Short Talk’? in reply to J. C. T., of Topeka, Kansas, who wrote to inquire about the Chinese Custom Service. I can only say now that I gave then all the information I possessed regard- ing it. All that I can add now is, that there used to be examinations in London, but these have been abandoned, and at present all examinations are held in Pekin. I have, however, written to the head of the service in China for pamphlets and full details. When these arrive, I will lay the information at once before you. Till then, dear boys, I can only ask you to ‘‘preserve your souls in patience.’’ SpeciaL Notice.—Many communications, improperly addressed to this department, are answered in the ‘‘Mail Bag.’’ —- > +> BOUGHT AND SOLD. A good story isstold of an old-fashioned miser. He was neyer known to have any- thing in the way of~mnew apparel but once; then he was going dja journey, and had to purcbase a new pa before day, and he got ready and went to the hotel to stop for the night. Among a whole row in the morning he could not find the old familiar pair. He had forgotten the new ones, and he hunted and hunted in vain. The stage was ready, and so he looked carefully around to see that he was not ob- served, put on a nice new pair that fitted him, then called the waiter, and told him the circumstances, giving him ten shillings for the owner. The owner never called. The miser had bought his own boots. Mf boots. The stage left - of in 10 m ve d re ut nt of ill he ve it, to nd he in ed b- ed im 4) he Pe sd as : 2 GooD NEWS. 4553 (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.} las she may quiet down,’’ suggested Mark A desk, a safe, a lounge, and a half-dozen 2 Pa ham. ‘‘I need scarcely say to you, Frank, | chairs comprised the furniture. = H; A R | j a IDS A. NJ ITD I BR, | J I : < that this is your home, and that this unfor-| On the desk lay a large book, such as one | tunate occurrence will make no difference in | sees on the desk of a hotel. OR, my intentions in regard to you.’’ ‘““That is the register,’’ thought Frank, | Frank bowed, and not knowing just what | and witha light step he ran forward and FRANK FORRESTER’S MOTTO THROUGH LIFE. | to say, said nothing. glanced at the open pages. | Markham, shaking his head sadly, went| ‘‘Mrs. Grace Markham, Room 33.’ Pirate | silently up stairs, and with a hasty good-by| He had no time to see more than that By HENRY HARRISON HAINES, | to Ida Clare, Frank left the house. when an approaching footstep admonished Author of “Upright and Honest,” Ete. He knew exactly where Doctor Drake’s | him of some one’s approach. , Washington Heights Sanitarium was, for he He had just sat down again when Doctor (“FEARLESS AND TRUE” was commenced lasi week.] had played base-ball ina vacant lot within a Drake, a stoutly built man of middle age, stone’s throw of the asylum. entered the office. PRR ARM LS ck Ves He made all haste to a station of the Frank glanced at him. CHAPTER IV. | ““]T eannot tell,’’? replied Markham. ‘7 | Sixth avenue elevated railroad, boarded a ‘‘An oily villain,’? he mentally mur- only know that while I was talking to her | train, and was whirled rapidly up town. mured, but he bowed politely, nevertheless, FRANK HEARS TERRIBLE NEWS. she suddenly became furious, raved about| He left the train at One Hundred and | and said: Or | all sorts of strange matters, and even tried | Thirty-fifth street, and then had several ‘*Good-afternoon, sir.’’ sy DA, what has happened to my mother?’’ | to leap from the bedroom window. It was} blocks to walk to reach the asylum. ‘‘Good-afternoon, my boy,’ was the polite ‘| Frank Forrester asked. | all that the housekeeper and | could do to| The Washington Heights Sanitarium was/ return. ‘‘What can I do for you?’’ ‘‘She is gone!’’ restrain her. I got a physician, and he told | a square, massive buildiug of stone and L wish to see my mother.”’ S> ‘*Gone where? me at once that the poor woman was insane. | brick, standing in the middle of ample ‘¢ And who is she? ‘To an asylum.’’ She became more and more violent, and to| grounds that were surrounded by a high ‘‘Mrs. Markham, the lady who was ‘Ida, what do you mean?’? prevent her from injuring herself or others, | fence pierced by a single broad gate. brought here a couple of hours ago.”’ ‘‘She has gone to an asylum for the in-| I had her committed. The doctor told me At this gate, the only means of entrance ‘Ah, yes, Mrs. Markham,’’ said the doc- sane,’’ the sobbing girl excitedly replied. | how to go about it legally. It is necessary | to the grounds, a bell-pull appeared. | tor, with a sorrowful shake of the head. ‘* An ‘‘Just give me a min- ! extremely distressing ute, and 1’ll explain to Mm WIN MeV NUTINI ANNUITY RTT HHNAANHITNHHY case. I am sorry to you.”’ I HTH She dried her tears, composed herself with a strong effort, and then turned to the impatient boy. **Your mother prob- ably told you, as she told me, that it was her intention to go away for afew days. Not caring to stay home with the housekeeper, I visited one of my girl friends, and passed all my time there. This morning: I had need of some toilet articles from my room, and went home to get them ‘* As I approached the house I saw your mother enter a coach with two men, both strangers to me. “The coach drove away, and I wondering ly ran to the house and rang the bell. To my surprise ij was opened by my guardian, who seemed overwhelmed with grief. He told me that he had not gone away on a trip, as they intended, because your mother was taken vi lently insane an hour or so after you parted from her. She was so violent, he added, that he could not keep her home, so she had been committed to an asy lum. I thought of you at once, and came here as fast as possible to tell you.’’ Frank Forrester lis- tened to the girl with blanched face. His mother, his pret- ty, beloved mother, a lunatic! He could not believe it. He threw off the feel- ing of horror that was benumbing. his senses. ‘‘Come,’’ he said to Ida, ‘‘let us go to your guardian at once. I want to have a talk with him.”’ On the way to Mark- ham’s house the boy thought, the matter Over. ‘*T don’t like Ran- dolph Markham, and ’ never did like him,’’ he said to himself, ‘‘and yet I never knew anything wrong about him. I do not believe that my mother, whom I left sane and well, could suddenly become insane in an hour, and nothing will Satisfy me on that point but seeing her and hearing her speak. In order to see my mother I must be careful in my conversa- tion with her husband,’’ The more he thought over the matter the more the conviction grew that there was Villainy at the bottom of it. ‘‘Caution is my watchword,’’ he decided, and it was with a very subdued and sorrow- ful air that he entered Markham’s house. The street door had scarcely closed when Randolph Markham, a tall, dark man, of middle age, came to the open door-way of the parlor and held out his hand to our hero. ‘Oh, Frank,’’? he almost groaned, ‘‘do you know the terrible news?”’ ‘‘Yes, Ida told me,’’ answered the boy, taking the outstretched hand in a perfunc- Ory manner, and darting a quick, keen Slance at the man’s face. But Markham’s face expressed nothing but extreme grief. A casual observer would have said that the man had been crying. ‘‘How did it happen?’’ asked Frank. Sa i | Wh Ny FRANK WAS FULLY BRACED FOR A POWERFUL EFFORT, AND WITH A RAPID, DEEP INSPIRATION, HE CAST THE DOCTOR AT THE ONCOMING MAN. to have the patient examined by two com- missioners in lunacy, who hold a certificate from the State, anJ their reporf must be passed upon and approved by a judge, -who then commits the insane person to an asy- Jum.”’ Frank listened attentively to all this. | Why should Markham, unasked, make this explanation? Was itucase of guilty con- science with him? If not, why should he think it necessary to make it plain to Frank that his mother had been committed only after all the legal requirements had been observed? ‘¢Poor mother,’’? said Frank, keeping his eyes fixed upon the floor after these reflec- tions flashed through his mind. ‘‘ Where was she taken?’’ ‘‘T have sent her to Doctor Drake’s Washington Heights Sanitarium, where I shall pay the highest price for the best care that can be given the unfortunate woman. However, both of the commissioners assured me that her case was hopeless.’’ ‘‘Can I see her?’’ asked Frank. “‘T suppose so, but they can answer you,at the asylum.”’ “Then I'll go there.’’ ‘‘T would advise you to wait a few days, have to deny you, but in her present excitable condition it would be too imprudent for me to entertain the idea for a moment. If her hus- band were to make the same request to-day, I should ' be compelled to refuse him.’’ ‘*T shall do nothing to excite her,’’ pleaded the boy. ‘‘I only want to look at her for one minute.’’ ‘I sympathize with you, my poor boy,’’ the doctor said, ‘‘and it grieves me to my heart to have to refuse you, but my duty to my pa- tient compels me to do so.’? The expression on his face was so plainly hypocritical that Frank felt the angry blood begin to surge toward his brain. ‘‘What harm can it do for me to look at ber for one minute?»’ he asked, ‘*Pardon me,’’ stiffly said the doctor, ‘‘I have neither the time nor the inclination to discuss the matter with you now. If you will call in about one week, I may permit you to see her.’’ And then a change took place with almost lightning-like rapidity. FORCE INSTEAD OF DI- PLOMACY CAUSES TROUBLE. T the thought of his dear mother +\k being kept for XY” a week, sane or insane, in that gloomy prison, Frank Forrester became flushed with rage. His usual cool ness and prudence de- serted him, and with a tigerish leap he sprang upon Doctor Drake, caught him by the throat, lifted bim from the floor and dashed him down upon the lounge with fearful force. Frank tugged at this, and a moment later ‘Villain !’’ growled Frank, as he glared a man came down the walk from the house. ) down upon Doctor Drake, ‘‘you shall let me He was evidently a servant, and merely | see my mother!’’ said in a civil manner: He let up a little on the doctor’s throat ‘Well, my boy, what’s wanted?’’ as he spoke, only for about three seconds, ‘‘My name is Forrester,’’ said Frank.| but long enough for the manager of the ‘‘One of the patients here is my mother, | asylum to take in a deep breath and then and I want to see her.’’ | shout at the full capacity of his lungs: ‘*You’ll have to see the doctor about ‘* Brinsmade!?’ , that,’’ the man said, and unlocked the gate. Then came the sound of heavy footsteps As Frank entered the grounds he cast a| rapidly approaching. swift, comprehensive glance about him, The door leading into the hall was open, taking in the high fence, with its spiked | and Frank could hear plainly. summit and single massive gate, the square- In an instant his ill-timed rage had fled built house, with its iron-barred windows, | from his breast. and, in short, the general appearance of He now bitterly regretted the imprudence solidity and security. of an instant of anger, for it not only placed ‘‘Tt looks less like an asylum than a/him in immediate danger, but it debarred strong prison,’’ thought the boy, and he| him from making peaceful attempts to see shuddered at the reflection that his idolized | his mother. mother was confined in such a place. The situation had called for diplomacy, His guide admitted him to the large, ‘cen- | and he had permitted himself to be carried | tral hailway, and ushered him into an office | away by anger. | at one side. He was in a bad situation. | ‘The doctor’ll -be here in a minute,’’ said If overpowered and secured, he would | the man, glancing in and noting that the} doubtless be turned over to the police, and office was unoccupied, and motioning the|if Doctor Drake preferred a charge of as- boy to sit down in one of the big wooden|sault against him, he might be punished | chairs, he-went away. with a short term in prison. xD \ vi 7 XN " 5 All this flashed with lightning-like rapid- ity through his mind. ‘‘T must not be taken,’’ decided Frank, and now, in the face of threatened peril to himself, he was us cool as he had _ been pre- viously inflamed. Still clutching the doctor by the throat, Frank Forrester turned his head. A man, evidently one of the keepers, was just coming through the open door-way. With his free hand Frank caught the doctor by one ankle. Then, with a single effort of his splendid muscles, the young athlete lifted the half- | strangled man from the lounge. The doctor was heavy, but in the bands of the powerful boy he seemed no more than a child. Brinsmade was just about six feet distant when Frank poised the doctor above his head. With one foot advanced, ard the other turned out at right angles, Frank was fully braced for a powerful effort, and with a rapid, deep inspiration, he cast the doctor at the oncoming man. Through the air flew Doctor Drake, pro- | pelled with all the force of those powerful arms. Brinsmade saw him coming. With an inarticulate cry, the fellow made an effort to escape. Too late! Just as he was turned half around, the flying form of the doctor struck him on the head and shoulders. Down he went with acrash to the hard floor, striking his head against one of the solid legs of the desk as he fell. Over him flew the doctor, still urged by the impetus lent by Frank’s powerful arms, and brought up with great force against the safe. There lay the two unconscious. Frank Forrester thought quickly, and acted with equal rapidity. He glanced at the prostrate men. They were insensible, and probably would be in that condition for a few minutes at least. At any risk to himself, Frank must try to learn the location of his mother’s room. He glanced at the door. The key was on the inside, and it was one of the common kind. Frank drew it out, put it hastily in again from the outside, closed and locked the door, thus temporarily securing the doctor and Brinsmade, and then cast a hasty glance about him. » The hall was wide and long, and ten feet from where he stood, a broad staircase led to the floor above. With light, fleet steps Frank Forrester leaped up this staircase, and reached a broad hallway. This hallway was crossed at right angles by another hallway about half-way between the front and the rear of the house. Door after door appeared on vither hand, and each door was numbered in a very legible style. Frank ran his eye along the double line of numbers. (30. 31, 82, 83.7? Ah! there was 33, the room assigned to his mother, according to the register, and for one brief instant Frank was tempted tc try to force the door and carry off his mother alone and unaided. But he changed his mind when he saw the heavy lock on the outside of the door, and a moment’s reflection assured him that the solid oak panels would not yield very easily or quickly. And then another thought, and it was one which made the boy feel sick at his heart, suddenly occurred to him; suppose his mother should really prove to be an insane woman? No, he must see her, must speak to her, must satisfy himself by the evidence ob- tained by his eyes and ears, and then if she were sane he would release her or die trying. One more glance he cast at 33 to fix the location of the room in his mind, and then he ran down the stairs with feet that were equally silent and fleet. The hallway was deserted, and the door of the office was still locked. Straight to the front door went Frank, opened it, and passed out of the house. What next? If he left the grounds, how could he hope to get in again? The doctor would surely give orders not to admit him, and, in fact, to apply in an open manner for admission, might lead to his arrest. No, he must stay somewhere within the inclosure, until he bad surveyed the exterior of the asylum and formed some plan where- by he might be able to reach or communi- cate with Room 33. He heard voices at the left side of the house, as though persons: were standing there, and quickly decided to trust to luck and run around the corner of the asylum to the right. He did so, and seeing nobody upon the well-kept walks or under the tall and broad trees, with watchful eyes kept on his way. He made his way to the end of the build- ing and peered carefully around the corner. Nobody was to be seen. Fifteen or twenty feet from the end of the building there grew a thick cluster of bushes, forming one Side ef a path. ‘‘Just the place,’’ thought Frank, andj with another hasty glance about him to make sure that his movements were unob- i served, he ran fleetly across the intervening space and crept into the very thickest por- tion of the bushy wall. Working himself into the center of the cluster, he squatted down and cast his eyes upon the rear of the building. | He could see quite clearly through the |intertwining twigs because he was close to them, and noted with pleasure that he was looking directly at*that portion of ,the asy- lum which contained Room 33, There was asmall window to the room, and as Frank gazed at it he could plainly calculate from its location that the window was so pierced in the rear wall as to bring the sill fully five feet from the floor of the room. ‘““That is worse than a prison,’’ he mut- tered, as he grasped the meaning of what he saw; ‘‘for while it may admit light and air, }and permit the inmate of the room to look up to the sky, it would be impossible to look down upon a friendly face or make one’s presence known to an outsider. Why, only the face of a very tall person could be seen above the window-sill from any position upon the ground.”’ The last words suggested an idea to him, and he looked for trees. There were plenty within the inclosure, but none that could ,be made available for a peep into the window of Room 33. But just then something else caught Frank’s watchful eye. It was a large strong-looking drain-pipe that descended from the top of the asylum to the ground, and passed within six inches of the window which now attracted the boy’s gaze. This drain was a main pipe, giving off several branches, and in order to give it ad- ditional security was fastened to the stone wall by gutter hooks, placed about four feet apart. Furthermore, the house was built of stone right up to the second floor, and as the blocks were roughly finished, there was quite # considerable space at irregular inter- vals between the back of the pipe and the face of the stones. ‘*With such aids for my hands and feet I'd engage to ascend a tower five hundred feet high,’’? murmured the observant young athlete. ‘‘Now I only need the friendly aid of darkness to climb up the drain, and if my mother is in that room, I’ll——’”’ Just at that moment the noise made by loud talking reached his ears, and Frank looked intently before him. Around the corner of the asylum came Doctor Drake and Brinsmade, followed by three other men, and what troubled Frank much more than their appearance was the fact that they were accompanied by a dog. ‘*Tf that dog ferrets me out,’’ thought the boy, ‘‘I’ll stand a very~good chance of going to jail for my assault on Doctor Drake!’? ! CHAPTER VI. THE KISS THROUGH THE BARS. Ly47 HAT’S the use of looking around WY\/5 here?”’ vA ‘*Because he may be here.’’ nt! ‘‘Do you think — he’s in grounds yet?’’ ‘*He may be.”’ ‘tT doubt it. After that assault he knew that he was in danger, and you may be sure that he went out through the front gate as lively as possible.’ ‘*But how could he unlock the gate?’’ ‘‘Why the key was left in the lock by some oversight.’ It was Brinsmade who made the last re- mark, and the doctor stopped short when he beard it ‘Oh, if the key was in the lock, then that very nearly settles it,’’? said Doctor Drake. ‘¢But for that oversight, however, we could make sure that he was still within the in- closure and only needed to be hunted for in order to be found.’’ Frank Forrester heard all this in a very abstracted way, and never looked once at the speakers, for the very good reason that his eyes were fastened constantly on the dog. The animal was running about here and there, its nose held close to the ground. It was a bull-dog, and, as is well known, belonged to a class of canines equally noted for their silence and their ferocity. He was an animal of ordinary size, and would probably weigh about twenty pounds, and a more ferocious-looking beast the boy had never seen, Frank thought over the situation rapidly, and made up his mind what to do in the event of the dog nosing him out. It is a matter of common knowledge that dumb brutes are unable to distinguish be- tween sleep and death, and that nearly all of them will sniff repeatedly at a person who is quiescent, whether they subsequently attack them or not. Frank knew this, and resolved to feign sleep in the event of the bull-dog approach- ing him closely, and then endeavor to quietly overcome the brute. the The men walked here and there, peering into odd corners. Frank kept his eye on the COO D: INE Ws. dog, and a moment later his heart gave an irresistible bound as the ugly brute came straight through the bushes to the spot where the boy lay, half-crouching and half- reclining on the grass. . With his face turned toward the red-jawed brute, Frank Forrester very nearly closed his eyes, lay perfectly quiet, and did not even breathe. Up ran the bull-dog, nose down, and al- most struck against Frank. There lay the boy like one dead or sleep- ing, and the brute, obeying the instinct of his nature, began siffing at him. Frank was reclining on his left side, and as the puzzled beast extended his ugly muz- zle to smell at him, the well-trained young athlete shot forth his right hand with lightning-like rapidity, and clutched the animal by the throat. With the force of steel ‘‘nippers,’’ those long, slender fingers shut down upon the dog’s windpipe, and then Frank drew the struggling brute close to him. The powerful bull-dog might make some noise in squirming about, and this Frank could not afford to chance. With his left hand he clutched the hind legs of the struggling bull-dog, and thus managed to hold the brute so snugly as to prevent any but the slightest movement. ‘*Here, Snap! here, Snap!’’ loudly called the doctor, ‘‘Where’s Snap?”’ But although Snap, hearing the voice of his master, made an extra violent struggle for liberty, those steel-like fingers only closed down with a more intense grip on his throat, and Frank held him so that he was incapable of sound or motion. Doctor Drake whistled shrilly, but, of course, the dog did nut appear. ‘*He’s gone away,’’ suggested Brinsmade. ‘‘Which is plain proof that there was nothing to interest him about here,’’ added the doctor. ‘‘Well, we'll look through the balance of the inclosure as a matter of routine, and then give is up. If I ever get a show at that lad, bowever, I’]] make him bitterly regret the day he laid hands on me.’? ‘‘And the day he laid you on me, or, rather, threw you on me,’’ put in Brins- made, with a touch of grim humor that would have made Frank smile under differ- ent circumstances. ‘‘Gracious! he handled you like a Greeco- Roman wrestler.’’ The doctor made some low-toned reply, the purport of which thé listening boy lost as the men moved away. Frank had held on tenaciously to Snap’s throat, and the bull-dog’s struggles, power- ful at first, became gradually weaker and weaker, and finally ceased. Still the cautious lad maintained his grip on the brute’s throat for a couple of min- utes more, and when he did let go watched the creature intently. But Snap was dead, as dead as_ the legendary door-nail, and Frank Forrester drew a long sigh of relief. Doctor Drake and the others had passed from view, and Frank settled back amid the thick bushes to think and wait. He could do nothing more until darkness came to shield his movements. It was a long, dreary wait, but Frank comforted himself by looking up at the win- dow of Room’ 83, and reflecting that his sweet-faced mother could look down upon him if only the sill were not so cruelly high. At any rate she was near him, and that was some consolation. At length, darkness came, and then Frank crept forth from his cramped position and stretched his limbs. The stars shone brightly down from a clear sky, and Frank was very glad that there was no moon to betray him by its un- welcome light. He looked up at the window which was now a magnet so far as his gaze was con- cerned. No light appeared there. ‘‘A prisoner, and in darkness,’’ was Frank’s bitter reflection, and a lump came up in his throat. ‘‘Sane or insane, mother dear, 1] have you out of that place by some means.’’ Advancing to the drain-pipe, the boy re- moved his hat and coat, and then took off his shoes, in order to make better use of his feet in climbing. Slowly, carefully, he made his way up the pipe, and with the opportunities afforded by the uneven face of the stone and the many iron gutter hooks, it was not a very difficult task. At length he was high enough up to see above the window sill of Room 33, and there he paused. It had just occurred to him that if he ap- peared suddenly at the window, without first attracting the attention or exciting the curiosity of the inmate, she might scream aloud with fright, and it was impossible to tell just what the effect of such an alarm would be. So, grasping one of the iron bars with which the window was guarded, Frank leaned sidewise, thrust his disengaged hand very gently forward, and tapped softly against the side of the window-sill. ‘‘What was that?’’ The exclamation come from within. How Frank’s heart leaped when he heard his mother’s voice. He drew himself up to the projecting ledge with one effort of his strong arm, and found room enough to afford him a narrow seat. Thus he was enabled to see into a room that was furnished with a simple cot and one stool. A wee lamp, so small and feeble that it was little wonder that Frank had not sus- pected its existence, sent forth a feeble glow from a shelf in the corner, and its rays fell upon the pale, pretty face of his mother. She looked up as he looked down, and their eyes met. ‘*Frank !”? ‘*Mother, dear mother !’’ And their love for one another looked from their eyes. With a swift movement, the imprisoned woman seized the stool, placed it under the window, and mounted upon it. This enabled her to lean so far forward over the sill that she could bring her face between two of the upright iron bars, and understanding her intention instinctively, Frank bent forward also and pressed his lips to hers. ‘“My dear, brave boy!”’ ‘*My sweet mother !’’ And then he looked as searchingly into her deep eyes so far as that feeble light would permit. ‘Mother, you are not insane,’’ he said, and his tone was not one of inquiry, but of conviction. ‘‘ Your voice tells me that you are as sane as I am.”’ ‘‘Tam as sane as you are, but God only knows how long I would retain my reason if I were compelled to remain here very long.’’ ‘You were brought here by force?’’ eae Gl Pa ‘*Then Markham is a villain.’’ ‘‘Frank, you cannot imagine the depth of his villainy, You remember that I told you when——’’ She suddenly paused. A step was heard in the corridor, and then the bolt of the door was shot back in an angry manner. The prisoner stepped hastily down from the stool, and Frank, seizing the friendly drain-pipe with his hands and securing a foothold at the same moment, was soon re- moved from the window-ledge. This was not effected one minute too soon, for the door was flung open, the light from the corridor streamed in, and with it came Brinsmade, who glared at the inmate of the room, and angrily cried: ‘**Who were you talking to?’’ (TO BE CONTINUED.) > o> [This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.[ CENTER-BOARD JIM; OR, The Secret of the Sargasso Sea out A YACHTING STORY. BY LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY, Author of ‘Friends or Foes,” “Cadel Carey,’ Won at West Point,” etc., etc. > (“OENTER-BOARD JIM” was commenced in No, 281. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) “CHAPTER XIII. JIM WRITES A PERSONAL. “pM took the letter offered to him by y f Raymond Hungerford, and glanced #7) over the contents. It was brief and «— certainly to the point. It read as fol- lows: ‘*You might as well save trouble by keep- ing away from the Sargasso Sea. Your search for the derelict Storm King will re- sult in failure as an expedition has already started for the ‘Grave-yard of Ships.’ Better invest your spare time and money iD something else. ‘* (Signed.) Jim glanced up at his companion and whistled softly. ‘*When did yer git dis?’’ he asked. ‘Just now. The clerk gave it to me not two minutes ago. Have you any idea what it means?’’ ‘‘T guess I tumble, sir. Dis was written by Cap’ain Darrow as sure as shooting. He’s de bloke wot wrote it, sir, and it means dat he is trying ter cut us out.’’ ‘‘But where under the sun did he learD about the Sargasso Sea? I flattered myse that the trend of the ocean currents ther? was an original idea. peculiar,’’ While speaking Raymond eyed the lad doubtfully. Jim caught the expression, a0 his face flushed. ye ‘‘Yer not. thinking dat I told him, sir?’ he asked, in a hurt voice. ‘‘Hope I may die if I did. De miserable bloke got onter dé idea in some way, but he didn’t learn it from me. I would cut off my tongue before I’d do a dirty trick like dat. Sorry it bap- WELL-WISHER.”’ pened, sir. If yer’ll ’scuse me, I——”’ ‘“Stop! Where are you going?’’ a Jim had moved toward the door. He halt at Raymond’s request and waited in silence: It certainly seems » sa ial alia aah tad - Gite ted ee, ix te. ocotm €xpla *rrar GOoonD NEWS. Thevyoung scientist laughed and frankly held out his hand. ‘Don’t act foolish, Jim,’’ he said, kindly. ‘*T have not accused you of telling this man Darrow our plans. I am positive you would scorn to do it. The fact remains, however, that he has learned them in some manner and that he is off before us.”’ ‘*He’s not off yet. I saw him outside there not five minutes ago. I’ve a good notion ter chase him up and tell him dat if he don’t keep erway from dat derelict I’?1l——”’ The lad came to a sudden stop. For his own peculiar reasons he had no present in- tention of divulging the captain’s secret. He shot a sly glance at his companion’s face to see if he had observed anything suspicious in the abrupt pause. Raymond appeared en- tirely unconcerned. He read the letter once more, and then carelessly threw it into a waste-paper basket. ‘*We will pay no further attention to it,’’ he decided. ‘‘If this Captain Darrow reaches the Sargasso Sea before us, he is welcome to the reward. I simply wish to prove my theory concerning the ocean currents.’ ‘*I’d hate ter see dat bloke git de ten thou- sand pounds,’’ remarked Jim, thoughtfully. ‘*He’s er snake, and he don’t deserve a blooming cent.’’ Then he added softly to himself: ‘*]’}l stop his little game er my name an’t Jim. I'll warn him t’roo de papers dis very night.”’ At that moment a friend of Raymond ap- peared in the hotel rotunda, and the young millionaire walked over to speak with him. Jim stated that he would not take dinner at the hotel that night, and then rejoined Harold Buxton upon the sidewalk. ‘*T met me boss inside,’? he informed the latter, with a grin, ‘‘and I got leave of ab- sence for a few hours. I say, did yer see any- thing more of that red-faced feller wot paid me de plunks?’’ ‘*No—not a sign.’’ ‘*Well, I want ter tell him something dat’s good for his health.’’ ‘*Do you know his address?”’ ‘‘Not I. It won’t do any good ter call at dat house on Norfolk street, as he’s bound ter fight shy of it after dis. I guess I’ll do like der dudes do at home when dey want ter say something t’roo de papers. I’ll puta line in de personal column. Where’s de news- paper offices?’’ ; ‘*Which do you wish?’’ ‘*De one wid de largest circulation.’’ ‘‘That’s the Times, I suppose. Come, I’ll take you there.’’ Calling a hansom, the lads entered and were driven to the office of England’s great- est periodical. On the way there Jim busied himself witha pencil and scrap of paper. He concluded his labors with a satisfied chuckle just as the vehicle drew up in front of the door. A constant stream of men entering and leaving the advertising office compelled them to wait for some time before they could reach the desks containing the printed slips. Jim gazed in awe at the busy scene for a while, then he handed his companion the scrap upon which he had been working. ‘‘ Jest read dat,’’ he said, proudly. ‘‘Dat ought ter fix ’is nibs. It an’t de best: Eng- lish, but it expresses my sentiments. Wot do yer t’ink of it?’? Harold glanced over the document, then he bit his lips to conceal asmile. This is what.he read: . ‘‘CapTain D.:—Dis is ter warn yer dat | you’ll git it where de copper got de trolley if yer don’t keep erway from dat derelict. Take advice from a kid yer know and give up de whole scheme. If yer don’t dat same kid ’1l1 expose de plan wot was written on _ dem papers. Savey?’’ Jim saw that his young companion eyed ms efforts in a doubtful manner, and his face ell. **Don’t yer t’ink it’ll do?’’ he asked, anx- _ iously. ‘‘Did I say enough?”? ‘*Yes, it is emphatic, but——”’ _ **Te English is a little off color, eh? Well, be a good boy and straighten it out for me. rrange it according to Webster and tell de _ feller behind dat desk dat I want it put on _ de front page in big type. Money’s no ob- ject.’ ; ‘Harold re-wrote the personal and left it for insertion on the following morning. When ® saw the printed slip disappear with many _ Others, Jim heaved a sigh of relief. ; ‘ “I’m glad dat’s off our minds,’’ he said. “‘Now, we’ll chase up a clothing sharp and git yer some duds. Where do dey hang out eround here?’’ _. **We had better taxe a ’bus and cross over to Cheapside. 1 know several shops in that “Reghborhood. My! I’ll be glad to be decent- Y dressed once more. Jim, I owe all this to 47 90.?? _. ‘*Wot do yer mean?’’? demanded the ex- Mascot, in alarm. . _ He was desperately a.zaid that his little _ Maneuver with the five-no.. motes had been discovered. He was bravo enough to fight his _ Way through the world unaided, and his lack fear made him respected in many rough ' Crowds of elder age, but he was ready to _ ‘ake to an ignominous flight at the first dem- °nstration of gratitude. is fears were allayed, however, Harold -®Xplaining that if it had not been for the rand to the Tower, and the walk from that memorable structure the notes would not have been found upon the sidewalk. Entering the Strand, the boys secured seats on the roof of an eastward-bound omni- bus, and prepared to enjoy the animated scene. The famous thoroughfare was crowded as usual. Throngs of vehicles, horses, and humanity fought for passage. Drivers of hansoms disputed the way with liveried coaches of eminent personages ; nim- ble messengers slipped bere and there appar- ently courting death with every step; stal- wart bobbies—17. e., policemen—attempted in ponderous manner to keep the passing throng in order, and failed lamentably as usual. There was good-nature everywhere, and doubtful jokes were cracked by rival truck- men. Individuals, couples, groups, crowds, and mobs trod the street life African war- rior ants en route to battle. As Jim watched them he thought that the Strand had only one peer, and that his beloved Broadway in New York. Presently the crowd in front of the ’bus parted, exposing to view a decrepid, stoop- ing figure on horseback. It was a very aged man clad in the last extreme of fashion. His tall silk hat was faultlessly brushed, his poor old gray mustache waxed to a_ point, his riding-boots of correct shape, but the hand that held the bridle shook as witha palsy, and the nodding head might have been part of a toy Chinese mandarin. In front rode a groom, on each side were others, and a fourth brought up the rear. The spectators respectfully uncovered at times, but the central figure paid no heed. His eyes were on the pommel of his saddle, and he might have been deadefor all the in- terest he took in his surroundings. Jim thought it was a king at least, and he asked the driver for information in an awed whisper. The jehu cracked his whip and guided his team of horses through a winding maze of vehicles, then he replied, with a eniff: ‘*Yer a-blooming furriner, eh? Don’t know ’im? That’s ’is ’ighness the Duke of Shrewsbury out fur ’is constitootional. ’H’s most a century old, an’ ’e an’t been right in ‘is ’ead for five-and-twenty years.’’ ‘‘Only a duke?’?’ murmured Jim, ‘‘and they salute him like dat. Humph! I saw the President of the United States riding down Fift’ avenue, and dey didn’t pay no more attention to him than dey would to a alder- man. Dey do t’ings better here—I guess?”’ CHAPTER XIV. A LONDON RIOT. N hour later, just before dark, found Harold in proud possession of a com- ; plete new outfit. The dark suit and ee soft felt hat changed his appearance materially, and he looked his position—an English lad of the middle class. ; ‘*Now dat’s attended to we must look after de inner man,’’ remarked Jim, after admir- ing his friend from all sides. ‘‘We’ll go to er bang-up place and git er square feed. None of yer cheap hand-m -down lay-outs, but er restaurong where de waiter sports er spike- tailed coat and er two for a quarter smile. Do yer know any such outfit?”? Harold smiled and nodded his head. ‘‘Such places are as thick as clover ina ten-acre field in some parts of the city,’’ he replied, ‘‘but I really think we will be bet- ter satisfied in a modest eating-house on Regent street. I took my meals there when I first came to London. What do you say? Shall we try it?’’ ‘If yer t’ink it best,’’ agreed Jim, with a sigh of regret for his imposing ‘‘restaurong.’’ ‘he lads boarded a passing omnibus, and were slowly driven down the Strand once more. Harold pointed out to his com- panion the many objects of interest and ex- plained their histories as best he could. He described Temple Bar, and indicated near by the old New Temple Courts, He called attention to the famous Drury Lane Theater, and indicated the peculiar position of the church of Saint Mary le Strand. He told of the quaint history of Charing Cross, and then just as he was on the point of launching into a florid descrip- tion of the great London fire, the ’bus came to a sudden stop, its way checked by an im- mense throng of men. f ‘‘What on earth is the matter?’’ queried Harold in surprise. ‘‘Why this is Trafalgar Square. Cricky! what a mob! Is it a riot?’’ ‘*T think it’s a meeting of socialists,’’. re- marked a passenger, rising to his feet. ‘‘The paper states that they were warned by the police against assembling, but they have evi- dently disregarded the advice. There will probably be trouble.’’ : ‘*Dat settles it,’’? whispered Jim to Harold. ‘*Gome, me boy. We can’t afford to miss a scrap. Let’s git out and see de fun,”’ That innate part of our nature—a proba- ble relic of barbarism—which casts a glamour of attraction around anything savoring of combat or force of arms was strong in both lads, and they descended from the omnibus with great alacrity. The crowd was densely packed, but by much squirming and dodging, they man- aged to make their way close to a statue, op the base of which was a wild-eyed, long- haired individual. He was addressing the 4555 mob in a delirious flow of German and Eng- lish words. Every time he paused for breath the im- mense throng broke into vociferous applause. Suddenly a man perched on the shoulders of several others broke forth, in a shrill voice: ‘*Bolice! bolice!?’ ’ The effect was magical. The crowd in the direction of the Strand wavered and fell shouts and hoarse yells filled the air. Pan- demonium ensued. From three sides came the tramping of horses and faint shouts of command. : Jim and Harold were huddled side by side | within ten feet of the statue upon which the speaker was standing. They saw the socialist | turn pale and wring his hands. Then with an inarticulate cry he sprang headlong into | the crowd, disappearing from view with re- markable suddenness. The surge of the outer edge of the crowd— beaten back by the police—caused a terrific crush in the vicinity of the lads. Both were sturdy for their age, and they managed to hold their own for awhile, Finally Jim found himself pressed between two men each considerably taller than himself. He glanced up at one and saw a broad red face anda sweeping tawny mustache, A pair of cruel, gray eyes gleamed down at him, and he heard an exclamation of sur- prise. It was Captain Darrow. ‘tAh, you little fiend, you here!’’ ex- claimed the Diablo’s owner. He attempted to lower his hands for some malevolent purpose, but the crush was too great. Jim managed to squeeze past him-and to place several bewhiskered socialists between them. Once at a point of vantage, he called back, derisively: ‘*Yer got left again, didn’t yer? Want ter swipe me in de snoot, eh? Yer can’t do it. I say, I read yer letter ter Mister Hungerford, and I answered it in de Times. Yer had bet- ter read it ter-morrow. Better take my ad- vice and keep erway from dat derelict or——’? His words were suddenly cut short by a shifting of the mob. The outcries grew louder, and with a crash and a roar, a squad of uniformed police swept toward the statue. Neither Jim nor Harold have a distinct re- membrance of succseding events, but in the | course of time they found themselves cast | up and stranded upon the marble steps of a large building. They eyed each other for a space and then burst out laughing. The effect of the buffet- ing and desperate struggle for safety was plain to be seen. They were nattily clad no longer. Jim had lost his hat, and his coat was split up the back. A great smear of blood decorated his right cheek, and one eye was partially closed, Harold was little better. His nice new suit was a sight to behold. Part of the collar had been torn away, his waistcoat was bepsat- tered with mud, and his face was liberally plastered with the same material. Still the two wrecks laid back and laughed as if it was all a huge joke—on some one else. Of such is the nature of youthful spirits. The rioters had vanished, but a din of voices from an adjacent street, growing fainter as time passed, indicated that the meeting of socialists had been postponed un- tila more favorable time. Presently, after his mirth had spent itself, Jim arose to his feet and tenderly ran one hand down over his legs. Then he felt his shoulders, and finally he said, in his good-natured way: ‘*Dat was great sport, partner. I an’t had so much fun since the time de strikers back in Brooklyn mobbed de ship-yard. How yer feeling?’’ \ ‘*Pretty well considering the circum- stances,’’ grinned Harold, mopping his face with a handkerchief. Then he added, rue- fully: ‘‘Just look at my new suit. It is com- pletely ruined.’’ ‘*Don’t mind dat,’’ carelessly replied Jim. ‘‘We’ll go and get another. Such sport is worth ten suits. Come on before the cops see us. Dey may take it inter dere heads dat we are mugs like dem long-whiskered blokes. ’?’ The boys slipped from the square, and in due time they were again costumed and in good order. In the course of an hour they found a suitable restaurant, and Jim ordered a dinner ample for four healthy people. CHAPTER. XV. JIM HAS A SCHEME. \ OW I’ve been exercising my think- ing-trap since [ met yer, and I uess I’ve made out a great scheme © for both of us. Yer see, I like yer curves, and I don’t want ter part wid yer just yet.”’ So spake Jim when the smiling waiter had carried off the debris after the last course. The boys were seated at asmall table ina quiet nook of a modest restaurant. They had satisfied their hunger, and were now lolling back at peace with the world. Harold sat up in his chair, and gave his Peo, a questioning glance. ‘*Before I propose my plan I want ter ask yer how yer would like a trip at sea,’’ con- tinued Jim. ‘‘Very much indeed,’’ replied the English lad, cordially. ‘‘The ocean with its mysteries and romance is fascinating tome. Why do you ask??? ‘Pll tell yer. Now don’t say a word for five minutes, and I’ll spin yer a yarn wot?ll make yer open yer eyes,’’? and Jim thereupon gave Harold a detailed description of his meeting with the Goulds and the subsequent events. He pictured with great enthusiasm f : | the famous yacht race, and held his youthful back as corn before a heavy wind. Cries and | companion spell-bound for more than the al- lotted time. He explained his connection with Captain Darrow and then with sundry chuckles re- lated the story of the black leather pocket- book, not forgetting the promise he had made Mr. Howard Gould regarding his fut- ure conduct. ‘I told him I’d make a man of meself,’? he added, seriously, ‘‘and I intend ter do it. I know I an’t in it wid good people, and I don’t talk like a educated bloke, but I t’ink I an’t too old ter learn.’?’ ““You are not, Jim,’’ replied Harold, kind- ly. ‘‘People are never too old to better their education. History tells us of many famous men who acquired languages in their later years. Milton was over sixty when he wrote ‘Paradise Lost.’ Some of the best Greek epics were written by poets in their eighties. You are barely seventeen, old boy. Why you have years and years before you.” Jim eyed the speaker wistfully. ‘‘I’d give anything if I knew as much as you,’’ he murmured. ‘‘It’s er funny t’ing, but I never felt the lack of education ’til I met people wot knew something. I an’t had much show in dis world. Had ter fight my own battles since I was knee-high ter a grasshopper. Dere’s another thing, too. I— yer won’t believe it—but I an’t even got er name like other people.’’ ‘*You haven’t—er—what do you mean?’? exclaimed Harold, in surprise. Jim hung his head in evident shame. He hesitated a moment, then was on the point of replying when the English lad reached across the table and grasped his hand. ‘*Sh-h-h! don’t say another word, old fel- low,’’ he whispered, softly. ‘‘You have a true heart, and that’s all that is necessary. Names! what are they? It is what one does in this world that makes him. I say, this story you tell me about the derelict’and the search for the valuable document is like a romance. They saw truth is stranger than fiction, and I can well believe it now,” The attempt to change the conversation was understood by Jim, who gave his friend a grateful look.- He remained buried in thought for a space, then he struck the table an emphatic blow, ‘‘Pll do it, blamed if I don’t,’? he ex- claimed at the same time. ““What?’? ‘“Yer say yer like the sea, and I guess yer like me. Now, we will leave in a few days on de cruise. I want yer tocome erlong, and I intend ter ask Mister Hungerford ter take yer. Will yer go?’’ ‘**Will a duck swim?’’ replied Harold, de- lightedly. ‘‘I’ll go for my board and lodg- ing, and I'll agree to work, from morning until night. Oh, Jim, do you think your friend will take me?’’ ‘“Yes. We'll go and ask him this very minute. Why, blame it all! I’ll hire yer meself. Yer can go as my tutor and in re- turn for teaching me how ter speak and act, Pll pay for yer keep and teach yer all I know erbout sailorizing. Is it a bargain?”’ Harold’s glowing face needed no interpre- tation. On the way to the hotel he alternate- ly trod on air and fell to the lowest depths of despondency. Jim’s proposal had opened up to him a most glorious vista. This oppor- tunity of gratifying his secret ambition of going to sea, and moreover, under such cir- cumstances, was almost too good to be true. They found Raymond Hungerford in his room. Although the hour was late he had not retired. Jim sent him a note by a hotel ‘ boy, craving an immediate interview. It was granted by the good-natured scien- tist. Without further ado Jim introduced his new-found friend and forthwith broached the subject. He set forth at great length Harold’s accomplishments, to that lad’s embarrass- ment, and then added, pleadingly : ‘*Tf yer will only say yes, Mister Hunger- ford, I'll promise that it sha’n’t cost yer a red cent. I like him, and I want him wid me. He has promised ter learn me a lot of t’ings, and yer know I need education if any bloke does. He has gone ter school since he was old ernuff ter carry a book, and he knows as much as_ the law allows. Won’t yer say yes?’’ Raymond laughed at the lad’s evident ear- nestness, then he closely questioned the Eng- lish youth. The result was apparently satis- factory, as he finally decided to consent to Jim’s request. ‘““You can go with us on condition that youassist Jim in his pursuit of knowledge,’’ he said, kindly. ‘‘I wish to see him a scholar on our return, and | really believe you can help him.’’ ‘*T will certainly try with all my power, sir,’? warmly replied Harold. ‘And so’ll I,’’ chimed in Jim. ‘‘If I an’t er college professor when we git back it'll be because de material an’t in me.”? ‘*My yacht is here,’’ announced Mr. Hun- gerford, as the boys were preparing to leave. “I received a telegram from the captain about an hour ago. She is lying off Tilbury down the Thames now. If you wish you can 2556 report on board in the morning. I must see that solicitor again, and also make arrange- ments for certain repairs to the Starling.’’ ‘‘We’ll go, sir,’? promptly replied Jim. ‘‘f?ve had ernuff of London. An’t been here ten hours, and 1’ve been in morescraps than yer can find at a Noo York excursion. We’ll run down de first t’ing in de morning, sir.’’ The next day at eight o’clock found the lads on board a Thames steamboat en route to Tilbury. Harold had collected his few be- longings and laid in the necessary articles for the cruise. It would have been difficult to have found a happier boy in all London than he. : He laughed and joked and carolled snatches of songs as the craft threaded its way through the maze of vessels thronging the noble river. After leaving London Bridge he pointed out the various objects of interest to his companion, to the great edification of both. The day was delightful. Not even a feath- ering of the almost constant fog to be found around the metropolis was visible. A warm sun beamed down on the stretch of shining water, bringing out in bold relief the row upon row, line upon line of steamers and sailing craft at anchor and in dock. Jim’s experienced eye took in the scene with growing surprise. He saw more vessels than he thought plowed the seas. As the almost interminable lines of steam- ers dwindled, the river widened. A long reach of water opened up, exposing to view here and there a different class of craft. There were lofty merchantmen with painted ports and cob-webby rigging, big ocean steamships with slender spars and massive funnels, squat flat barges heaving and pitch- ing with the commotion from passing boats, and finally a dozen orso of trim yachts, both steam and sail. These last instantly attracted the lads’ at- tention. Now Jim took the part of instructor, explaining with a wealth of nautical terms the many details of hull and rigging. He pointed out to his companion the difference between sloop and schooner. Told where the sharp prow and graceful overhang was con- ducive to speed, and finally launched forth into a glowing account of the American rac- ing machines. ‘Dey can beat de world, and don’t you for- get it,’? he said. ‘‘We have been building de fastest yachts since de first race for de America cup, and please Providence we’ll keep up to de limit. Not dat I say you Brit- ishers don’t know something erbout it, but yer see, dere’s a little you have ter learn yet, and we’re de people ter teach yer.”’ ‘*We make good pupils,’’ laughed Harold. ‘‘But I say, what nationality is that long, low craft over there? J mean the one that is painted black and carries such a squat pilot house. Is she——’’ ‘‘Jumping Christmas! if it an’t de old Diablo, [ll eat my hat,’’ suddenly exclaimed Jim, excitedly waving his hands. ‘‘It’s de yacht wot belongs ter Cap’ain Darrow—dat bloke wot locked me up in de house on Nor- folk street.’’ In his explanation of events given in the restaurant in London, Jim had not mentioned names, nor described Captain Darrow’s bold plan of falsely claiming the heirship to the Ear! of Cromford’s estate, so this encounter with the yacht of the daughty captain did not impress Harold. Jim eyed the somber craft as they passed on down the river, then when it was finally hidden by a bend, he lapsed into thought which lasted until Tilbury was reached. The Starling was moored to a dock, and presented a most graceful appearance as the steamboat made the landing. She was long and rakish and carried two slender funnels painted a deep cream color. The hull was white, with a golden ribbon running fore and aft. Forward of the elegant pilot-house were several uniformed men at work clean- ing decks, and directing their labors was a tall, white-whiskered officer, who Jim right- ly concluded was the skipper. The boys reported on board at once, and were greeted cordially. They spent the morn- ing examining their future home, and then sat down to a toothsome lunch at noon. During the meal Jim was so evidently taci- turn that it attracted Harold’s attention. He asked the reason and was given a succession of sundry nods and incoherent allusions. Finally the ex-mascot brightened up as if he had solved an important question. After lunch he drew the English lad toa secluded spot, and announced, with many mysterious winks: ‘*Tt’s settled at last, chum.’’ ‘*What is? What on earth are you talking about?”’ ‘*Sh-h-h! I’ve got a great scheme. Don’t say a word, but listen. Yer saw the Diablo —dat yacht of Captain Darrow’s?’’ fo Ge.) 0 ‘*Well, I told yer dat we was bound ona cruise in search of a derelict, didn’t I?” ‘Yes, yes.”’ ‘Dat very same craft, de Dablo, is on de same lay. Cdp’ain Darrow is going ter try ter cut us out, and dere’s a matter of ten thousand pounds in it. Just t’ink of dat!’’ ‘*Whew !?? ‘Yer may well whistle. Now 1’m going ter fix itso dat measly bloke can’t sail as soon as he t’inks he can. I’ve got a scheme, and we’ll carry it out dis very night. It it succeeds, de Diablo won’t leave dis port in a GoonDp hurry. Comeon. We’ll run up de river to dat place where she’s anchored and git ready ter do de work. Better bring a gun erlong, as we may need it.’’ (TO BE CONTINUED.) A PERILOUS CLIMB. THE LIGHTHOUSE-KEEPER’S STORY. BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD. oi i anh OU see the lighthouse out there; it ,, stands on the end of a long reef, which brought up many a stout craft before it was built. In thick weather, with a sou’-westerly wind, vessels in trying to beat out, not knowing of the reef, often ran right on it and were lost. Father was sent down here as head light- house-keeper some years before the time I’m speaking of. His mate was Dick Burrage, an old sailor, who, owing to a bad wound in his head, had been discharged. Mother arid I lived ashore, in that little cottage there on top of the cliff, from which the lighthouse is in sight, and mother used to say that she felt more comfortable when she saw the light burn up at night, as she then knew that father was all right. It’s impossible in blowing weather to get off to the lighthouse, so I used to take every chance when the sea was smooth to pay a visit to father, to carry him milk and eggs, and fresh butter, and his clean clothes, and even letters and newspapers sometimes. Iwas just about seventeen when I made one of those trips, which I sha’n’t forget in a hurry. A chum of father’s, old Jackson, gave mea shove off. As 1 jumped on the ladder with my basket of things, he said: **T’]1 call for you as I come back if the wind doesn’t veer round as it has a mind to do; and if it does, why, you’ll have to stay till it shifts again; good-by, lad.’’ Father was glad to see me; not only on account of what I’d brought him, but be- cause Burrage had been complaining of be- ing ill. He looked flushed in the face; his eyes were bloodshot; and his hand felt as dry and hot asa coal. Hesaid he thought he’d got a heavy cold coming on; and father persuaded him at last to go and lie down, and not to mind about the lamps, as I could help him with them. So Burrage went and turned in; and father and I set to work with the lamps; trimming the wicks; filling up with fresh oil; polishing the reflectors and glasses; cleaning and oiling the machinery, and so on. When we went down to dinner, poor Bur- rage seemed to be no better. He complained ot pain in his head, and said he’d stay where he was, as he had no appetite for dinner; but he’d be glad if we’d bring him up a pitcher of water, as he felt thirsty enough to drink the sea dry. As soon as we’d finished dinher, we turned to at the lamps again, and got everything ready for lighting up; we went below, and straightened things up there to; and by that time the afternoon was getting well on, and we had to think about having tea. It was while we were sitting on each side of the fireplace, waiting for the kettle to boil—father enjoying his pipe, and I tell- ing him the last shore news—that from the sound the wind made as it swept round the tower, I found old Jackson’s prophecy had come true; it had shifted, and was at about west-sou’-west, or thereaway; and blowing strong, with heavy gusts now and then. I looked out of the small window, and sawfrom the way the sea came tumbling home upon the reef and swirling over it in y boiling foam, that I was booked for a berth in the lighthouse for that night, at least; and perhaps for three or four on to the end of it. This, however, gave ne no concern. I had often slept there before when detained by the weather, sometimes for a week at a time, so that I was used to it; and, as mother knew where I was, she wouldn’t be uneasy. Tea was by this time ready; and I went up to the sleeping-room, carrying a good cup of the hot fragrant liquid, a couple of slices of buttered toast, and two boiled eggs, thinking that perhaps such dainties might tempt poor Burrage’s appetite, as he had eaten nothing since the night before. However, when I got to his beside he was asleep; not taking a quiet nap, though, but moving restlessly on the bed, tossing his arms about, moaning and clutching at his hair. I did not disturb him, but brought the things away again, thinking that, though his sleep was uneasy, he might be the better for it. When I returned to the cozy room below I told father how restless Burrage was, and that I was afraid he was very ill; so father went up and had a look at him. When he returned he said he feared I was right; and that if it had not been for the wind getting up, he should have signaled for a boat, and sent the poor fellow ashore at once. By the time tea was over we had to see oe lighting the lamps in the lantern; and ather went up to do. so. Two or three min- utes had passed by, when J heard him call NEWS. me. I went up, and found him standing on the stairs, outside the sleeping-room door, which was shut. ‘tT say, Frank, here’s a pretty business,’’ he said. ‘‘Dick’s as mad as a march hare, and has locked himself in; what can we do?’ ‘‘Can’t you persuade him to let us in?’’ said [. ‘*No,’’ replied my father. ‘‘He says Dick Burrage is dead; and that he’s got to guard the body until its buried. Let’s try him again. Dick! I say, Dick!’’ hammering at the door with his knuckles. ‘*Who calls??? demanded poor from the other side of the door. ‘tT, Ned Martin,’’. returned my father. ‘*Come, Dick, old man, open the door, there’s a good fellow. It’s time to light the lamps, you know.’’ ‘*T tell you Richard Burrage is dead— gone to his last account, poor fellow, and no man enters this room until I have buried him,’’ returned Dick. ‘* Are you sure he’s dead? Open the door, and let me take a look at him; perhaps we Burrage, may be able to bring him around yet, if we | are smart about it,’’ insinuated my father, in a coaxing tone. ‘*T tell you he’s dead,’’ insisted Dick. ‘‘Dead; do you hear? Dead! I know it, be- causé I’m his spirit.’’ That was all we were able to get out of him; and neither by threats nor persuasion could we induce him to open the door, though we tried for a good half-hour or more. Matters were becoming serious. It was now nearly as dark as it would be at all that night, the moon being at the full; but her light was greatly obscured by the swiftly flying clouds which often hid her face; and the lamps were not yet lighted. At last my father would delay no longer; but bid me run down and fetch up a ham- mer or the ax, to break open the door. As I went below, I glanced for a moment out at one of the windows which com- manded a view of the bay to the north’ard; and, to my horror, I perceived, far away in the distance, the lights of a ship. I dashed down to the room below, and seized an ax, the first thing which came to my hand. ‘*Father,’? I exclaimed, as I returned breathless to bis side, ‘‘there’s a ship in the bay, and far to leeward, too.’’ ‘*God be merciful to us! you don’t say so, lad! Give me the ax; we must have the lantern lighted up at once at any cost, or the poor souls will never live to see day- light again.’’ Without another word my father began to ply the ax, I retiring down a few steps, to be out of reach of its swing. In the course of two or three minutes the door yielded; and my father was about to pass into the room, when Burrage appeared at the entrance—his hair bristling, bis eyes gleaming with the fury of madness, and the foam flecking his heavy mustache and beard, This terrible apparition caused my father to pause for a moment; the next he was struck down by a blow from a log of wood, which the mad man flourished in his hand. My father sank forward upon the threshold with a heavy groan; and Burrage, seizing the ax which fell from his grasp, sprang over his body and rushed headlong down the stairs toward me. Terrified at seeing my father fall and the suddenness of the attack made on me, I turned and sprang into the room below. A moment’s glance as I entered it, showed me that there was no hiding-place there; and on I dashed again, the yells of the maniac, and his hurrying steps, ringing in my ears— until I reached the entrance door of the lighthouse, which I flung open. I was about to plunge into the sea, as the only possible means of escape, but the sight of the furious waves leaping and plunging down. upon the reef in great churning masses of yeasty foam, checked me for an instant. The next, I darted out, flung myself upon the ladder, and thence upon a narrow iron platform or grating, about eighteen inches wide, which ran all around the Jighthouse. I had to throw myself down flat, at once, and hold on with might and main, for a huge wave came foaming up, breaking against the building, and leaping high above my head. When it had passed, I rose to my fret, dashed the salf water out of my eyes, and looked over my shoulder to see what had become of my pursuer. There he stood, in the door-way, wildly flourishing the ax, yelling, and gnashing his teeth, and effectually barring my return. What was to be done? To stay where I was was death; to return was to incur a frightful risk, such as I dare not face; for he would have hbrained me: where he stood before I could have hada chance of preventing him, even had my strength been anything like a match for his. As I revolved these things in my mind, I caught another glimpse of the ship’s lights, and, from their increased brightness, I saw that she was rapidly approaching the reef, and at the same time drifting fast to lee- ward, How could I light the warning beacon which should show their danger to the crew of the stranger? A quarter of an hour longer, and her fate would be sealed; and all on board would meet a watery grave. My agony of mind was dreadful; I felt that I would willingly give my own life for theirs, if it might be, and in my great ex- tremity I cried aloud to God for help. I had scarcely uttered it when it struck me that it might be possible to reach the lantern by climbing the lightning conductor. I made my way cautiously around the tower, and after several hair-breadth escapes from being washed off the narrow footway, at length reached the slender rod. What was my relief to find a rope swing- ing near it, lowered for some purpose by Burrage that very morning unknown to father. Without that rope I could not have done what I intended. 1 caught it as it swung near the rod, and held it fast. The ship was still visible, rapidly ap- proaching: and the sight nerved me for the terrible climb. Terrible it was in truth, for I was now on the weather side of the light- oe and exposed to the full fury of the gale. Slowly and laboriously I made my way aloft; the wind beating upon me with a strength which threatened every moment to whirl me far into the boiling sea below; but clutching the rope and holding on to the conductor with my knees, up and up I climbed. At length I found myself underneath the gallery which runs around the top of the lighthouse, outside the lantern. The lightning-rod passed up the face of the tower, close to the masonry, and through the floor of the gallery—which projected about three feet from the face of the build- ing. How was I to get past its projecting edge? It was a difficulty I had quite overlooked. And while I hung there helpless, I could see, full in view, the fast approaching lights of the devoted ship. I must reach the lantern somehow, and that within the next five minutes, or it would be too late. Suddenly the ornamental open-work iron brackets which supported the gallery, at- tracted my attention. They might help me. There was one on each side, that on my right being nearest. I stretched out my hand, but failed to reach it, and nearly in the attempt lost my hold. I tried again, and holding on to the rope with my hands, and grasping the light- ning rod, I swung my body toward the bracket, and caught it with one hand. Tightening my grasp, I let go the light- ning-rod with my feet, and swung for a moment in the furious blast by my right hand only; and at first it seemed that I had not sufficient strength left to gain a hold with the other. A further desperate effort, however, was successful; and, by dint of another dreadful struggle, I managed to reach out over the edge of the gallery and grasp the foot of the railing. Even then, I was so exhausted that I felt it would be impossible to accomplish the short, though extremely difficult climb be- fore me; but I did manage it at last—to sink sick with terror at the awful peril I had yone through, faint and exhausted, on the floor of the gallery. Only for a moment though, The next in- stant I was in the lantern, groping for the match-box; and in another minute the brilliant. light was darting its warning ray across the wild sea to the imperiled ship. I paused long enough to see the ship, now awakened to the imminence of her peril, go about and make a tack to seaward; and then hurried down to my father, who still lay where he had fallen. JI raised him, and with great difficulty got him upon his bed. He had only been stunned by the blow the madman had dealt him, and recovered sooner than I had expected, though at first he could not understand what had happened. ‘*Thank God!’’ he exclaimed, when I told him, ‘‘the ship is safe at all events; and now let us go and look after poor Burrage, Frank.’’ We found Dick lying senseless on the floor, just inside the entrance. When he came to, his frenzy had passed away, but his senses had not returned, and he was as weak as @ child. That was a terrible night to me, for father was still suffering, and I was afraid every time I had to go up and see that the lamps were burning properly that Dick would have another fit and attack him. The night, however, passed, and the next morning the wind falling, we made a signal for a boat, and Dick was taken ashore. Though he was at length able to get about again, he has never been exactly right, from that day to this, and, of course, he has never been back to his old berth at the lighthouse. —~<— 0-e—____——- HE DID NOT CALL. A gentleman who kept a large number of horses for the purpose of hauling was com- plaining to a friend about the losses he had sustained through the death of several 0 them, to which his fiiend replied: ‘Well, as you find horses don’t pay, why don’t you try donkeys?’’ ‘‘T never thought of that,’’ said the gen tleman, ‘but I will do so. Call round in the morning and see if the harness will fit you- It is needless to say he didn’t keep the ap” pointment. aie” aad Oe es es es et on & 186 188) 188 188’ 187. 188: 187% 187% 1872 v4 Spe nan a neeCEnnanOnETaT © = aasceceasadieaznasiieiabeeaneadaeaaademissoiabomrananiedatanesteeusienionieeatisinatindeeenantiaeantcaltcabeet GooD NEw s. ‘Qur $ramp (ALBUM. NEW stamping machine has been invented by a William Barry, of Syracuse, N. Y., and several ot them are now in use at the New York Post-office, taking the place of the Dolphin machine. One of these new ma- chines, when placed on trial at the central post-office here, exceeded the others in ey by about three thousand letters an our, The average stamping rate of each Barry machine is between fifteen thousand and twenty thousand letters an hour, while the best stampers used by hand average about four thousand letters an hour. These ma- chines are said to be giving satisfaction in every respect. In working these machines, the attendant simply places the letters on the sucker,-and then the stamping proceeds automatically. They are run by electricity. * * * * There is considerable talk in Paris of bringing,about the adoption of an inter- national postage stamp. It is proposed to invite the nations composing the Postal Union to adopt a special kind of stamp for international eommunications. Among the arguments put forth for the creation of the new stamp were the following: 1. The stamps would come in very handy for persons desirous of forwarding very small sums of money from one country to another. 2. They would enable the sender of a letter from one country to another to inclose a stamp for reply. 8. Travelers would welcome the innova- tion as a real boon, for they would be able to communicate with their friends in the country when they set out on their travels, without being compelled to replenish their stock of stamps at every frontier. On the other hand, before the idea could be put into practice there would be a num- ber of difficulties to surmount. The different - eountries of the Postal Union could not be - permitted to manufacture as many inter- national postage stamps as they saw fit; for it would be very easy, if such were the ease, for one country to manufacture an enormous quantity and sell them to a neigh: boring State, thus depriving the latter coun- “try of legitimate budgetary profit. The - promotor of the idea, therefore, proposes the creation at Berne, Switzerland, of a central bureau, empowered to manufacture a cer tain number of five-cent postage stamps an- nually. These would be distributed to the several States proportionately to the popula- tion. The stamps now in use in each country - would continue to exist, both for inland and foreign postage. Would not Scott have a ‘‘sweet’’ time | pricing the numerous postmarks; as of course this would be the only way of distin- guishing from what country they really came from. * * * * Some more prices of rare stamps and en- _ velopes: ENVELOPES. 1858-55, 3c. red, $ 35.00 25.00 35.00 10c, green, ; 6c. red (buff paper), 10c. green (buff paper), 1863, 2c. black (orange), ee 2c. ‘* (small figure 2), 1870, 10c. ** ‘ Eh) 200." **\". Camber paper), 1874, Zc. vermilion, Bein; 2Q¢ 6 ts 8c. green, (blue), 1880-82, 2c. vermilion, (amber paper), 1884, 2c. red (white), =e SSSSSSSSSRSSSSSRSHRSSE: SSSSSSSSSSsssssssss +. »2e.- * (manillia amber), 1874-80, wrapper, 2c. vermilion, 884, ve 2c. red, 1878, post-office, 3c. black, 46 6e sé : 1878, war, 10c. dark-red, ‘1875, « 1c, light-red, 10e. +6 “ec 1c, “ « ee! 3 Ecce 80e se oe REVENUE STAMPS. Conveyance, Revenue, we 2% or SSS2e2seeg $20, ( inverted ey 00 00 00 00 00 1.00 5.00 Private proprietary and local stamps de- Scribed and he | next week. Bat he * * Louis Ashby, Davisville, W. Va., writes: ‘LT inclose a stamp which I think is of the issue. I have two 3c. green stamps of £73) and one green 3c, stamp with a rail- ‘oad engine on it. Please let me know if hey are of any value.’’ The stamp inclosed was of the 1861 issue. Proprietary, “se SER Your 8c. stamp is worth $2; the other is worth 8c. if grilled, and $10 if not. 2 * * * ‘*No Name,’’ Danville, writes: ‘‘Will you kindly tell me through your paper if there is any premium on any of the bank check stamps of the United States Revenue? ' If so, kindly describe and give their value.’’ The 2c. blue, part perforated, is worth 50 cents. * * * J. Davison, Kan., writes: ‘‘1n looking over the ‘Stamp Album’ of the Goop NrEws, under the head of ‘General Issues,’ I see a stamp bearing the date of 1870-71, 12c. dark- purple, is worth $50; also one under ‘Car- riers Delivery,’ 1851, 1c. blue, buff paper, is worth $750. I have both these stamps, and would like to know where I would be likely to find a catalogue.”’ You can get such a catalogue from the Scott Stamp and Coin Co., 18 East Twenty- third street, New York city. The price is $10. * * 2 * Henry Kater, Trenton, N. J., writes: ‘‘I notice in your paper, dated August 31, a list of valuable stamps, and among those men- tioned is the 3c. scarlet of the general issue, 1862-66. I have one of them in my _ posses- sion. Will you please let me know where I can sell it?’’ These stamps are rather hard to sell, but you can probably find a buyer by writing to the dealer whose ‘‘ad’’ can be found in No. 281 of this paper. * Ss * * H. H. Hassler, St. Louis, Mo., writes: ‘*T have been reading the ‘Stamp Album’ in your paper for several weeks, and as Iam a devoted stamp collector, Iam very much in- terested in it. I have a few questions I would like you to answer through it. 1 have a ic. Brown & Co.’s City Post, U. 8S. local, and a 8c. red envelope of 1853, on white pa. per, with straight ends. Can you tell me the value of these?’’ Your local stamp is worth $12.50, and the envelope $12. * CT * * Vet Maloney, Cheboygan, Mich., writes: ‘*Will you kindly answer the following ques- tions the best you can: What is the value of the Columbian issue? How and where can I procure some newspaper stamps? Ihave a chance to purchase a number of unused Co- lumbian stamps of the following denomina- tions: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 8 cents. Would you advise me to invest in them?’’ We gave the value of the Columbian issue in a recent number. The entire set of ad- hesives and envelopes are worth $27.02, used, and $380.16, unused, but a certain dealer offers them used for $26, or $28 un- used. Charles C. Rogers, 115 West Fif- teenth street, New York city, will sell you such stamps. You can purchase them used or unused, for the same price. If you have any money to invest you could not do bet- ter than purchase unused Columbian stamps. The 8c., 4¢., and 8c. are the most valuable. * * * * Mickey Roundskull, New York, writes: ‘*Please inform me through your ‘Stamp Album’ how I can secure philatelic papers, where they are issued, and what they cost.’’ There are numerous ways through which you can procure such papers. If you do not know the address of any of them you can easily find out by inquiring at any stamp dealers. Another way, and perhaps the best, is to insert an ‘‘exchange’’ in this paper, asking for philatelic papers. You can then soon pick out the style of paper you prefer from those you receive, and send the sub- scription price to the editor of that paper. The average price of philatelic papers or mag- azines is 25 and 50 cents, which are issued every month. The subscription price ofa weekly paper is usually $1. All will be sent Duaiand on receipt of the price. , . i ca “eee —— IT WAS FOUND. —_— ‘An Irish clergyman, riding from his home to chapel one morning had the misfortune to lose a new cloak, which he carried at- tached to his saddle. Before commencing his discourse, he thought well to advertise the loss of the gar- ment and to enlist the services of the con- gregation in its recovery. « ‘*Dearly beloved,’’ he began, ‘‘I have met with a great loss this morning. I have lost my fine new cloak. If any of you find it, I hope you will be.so good as to bring it home to me.’? i ‘*Tt’s found, yer riverence,’’ cried a voice from the botcom of the chapel. _ ‘God bless you, my child!’’ exclaimed the pastor, with unction. het ‘‘Tt’s found, sir,’? continued the voice; ‘for I kem that road this mornin’, an’ it wasn’t on it.’’ ; ‘¢Mother, I can never win the medal for good behavior,’’ exclaimed a boy just from school. ‘‘I’ve tried and tried, but some other fellow always gets it.’’ ‘«But you must keep on trying,.’’ said his mother, Peceut ena: A ‘*Tt’s no use,’ replied the boy; ‘‘I sha’n’t try any more. It’s a clean waste of good- ness,’ |the sloop,’? he thought, dismally. (This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form.] BY PLUCK ALONE; OR, Ralph Nelson’s Upward Struggle, — + —— BY HARVEY HICKS, Author of “The Tour of the Zero Club,” “Tom Truzton’s School-Days,” “Mat Merriman Abroad,” etc., ete, (“By PLUCK ALONE” was commenced in No. 277. Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.) CHAPTER XXXVI. ON THE ISLAND. $c EANWHILE, what of poor Ralph? | NY/\| Was it true that he had been dashed re to his death over the high cliff? “TSS> Happily, it was not true. Yet, for a long while after he was pushed over, the boy knew nothing of what had hap- pened. He went down and down, clutching vainly at rocks and bushes as he passed. Then his head struck a stone, and he was knocked senseless. How long he remained in this state he did not know. When he came to all was dark around him and silent. Putting his hand to his face he found it covered. with blood. There was a large bruise on his left temple, and his head ached as it never had before. ‘‘Where am I??? was his first thought. ‘*What has hap—— ‘ Oh!”’ With something akin to a shock he re- membered the truth—how he had stood on the edge of the cliff, and how Martin and Toglet had bumped up against him and shoved him over. ‘*T believe they did it on purpose,’’ he thought. ‘‘The villains! What was their ob- ject?’ By the darkness Ralph knew it was night, but what time of night he could not teil. Luckily, he had not worn his new watch. The old one was battered, and had stopped. Presently the bruised and bewildered boy was able to take note of his surroundings, and then he shuddered to think how nar- rowly he had escaped death. He had caught in a small tree which grew half way down the side of the cliff, and his head struck on a stone resting between two of the limbs of the tree. Below him was a dark space many feet in depth, above him was a projecting wall of the cliff which hid the top from view. What to do he did not know. He wished to get either to the top or the bottom of the wall as soon as possible, but he did vot dare make the effort in his feeble condition and without the aid of daylight. ‘“*T must remain here until dawn,’’ he concluded. ‘‘Ican do nothing until I can see my way.’’ : To prevent himself from falling should he grow faint or doze off, he tied himself to the limbs of the tree with several bits of cord he happened tv have in his pocket. Hour after hour went by, and he sat there, alternately nursing his wounds and clutching his aching head, and wondering why the two men had _ treated him so cruel- ly. Never once did he suspect that they were the hirelings of Squire Paget. ‘‘They did not rob me,’’ he said to him- self, after he had searched his pockets and found his money and other: valuables safe. ‘‘And yet lam positive that it was not an accident.’’ At last the morning dawned. With the first rays of light Ralph looked about for some manner of releasing himself from his perilous position. To climb up to the top of the cliff was im- possible. There was nothing but the bare rocks to clutch, and they would afford no hold worth considering. j Therefore, he must go down, but sucha course was nearly as hazardous. With great care he lowered himself to the cleft from which the tree that had saved his life sprung. Having gained this, he scram- bled down along a fringe of brush. Then it was necessary to drop a distance of ten feet, and crawl on hands and knees around a sharp corner to where a slope of dirt led to the bottom. On the dirt he slipped, and he could not stop himself until he had rolled into a clump of bushes directly at the base of the cliff. Still more bruised, he picked himself up with a thankful feeling. At last he was free from the danger which had hung over him so grimly. He breathed a long sigh of relief. Water was at his feet and his first task was to bathe his face and hands. Then he bound his handkerchief over his bruised temple. He looked about for his cap, and was not long in finding it. ‘‘T suppose those fellows have left the island, and if so they have doubtless ore ee 1 make certain though, and be on my guard while I am doing it.”? — He walked slowly and painfully to the cove where the boat had been left, but, as we already know, it was gone. ‘They have taken themselves off and left me behind for dead,’’ Ralph said to himself, **Well, thank fortune, I am alive!’’ The boy was in a sad situation. He was without food and with no maans of commu- nication with the mainland on either side of the lake. ‘**¥ must see if I can’t signal some passing boat,’’ he thought. ‘‘It is impossible to swim to the shore, especially now when I feel as weak as a rag.’’ Ralph had just struck out for the opposite side of the island, that. upon which all of the regular lake boats passed, when the re- port of a gun reached his ears. It came from some distance to the north, and was soon followed by several other shots. He wondered if it could be Martin and Toglet or some sportsmen. Determined to find out, he set out as rapidly as he could in the direction of the sound. After passing through a patch of woods and over a hill of rough stones, he came to a thicket of blueberry bushes. As he entered it there came another shot, not a hundred feet away. In a moment more the boy espied a sports- man, dressed in a regular hunting garb. ‘* Hallo, there!’’ he called out. - **Hallo, boy!’’ returned the man, cheer- ily. ‘‘Out hunting, like myself??? ‘*No, sir,’’? replied Ralph. ‘Yes, I am, too,’’ he added, with a faint smile—‘‘I am hunting for help.’’ ‘‘Help??? The sportsman put down his gun. ‘‘Why, what’s the matter with your head ?’? ‘*T’ve had a bad tumble. Two men pushed me over the cliff on the other side of the island.’’ ‘«The dickens you say! Pushed you over???’ large gate-way close at hand, He passed through and found himself on a narrow and dirty street, at the upper end of which were a number of tenement houses and saloons. ‘Where in the world am I??? he murmured to himself, as he passed his hand over his forehead, from which the bandage had slipped. ‘‘What place can this be???’ The cool night air braced the boy up, and soon he felt stronger. But he was very thirsty, and was willing enough to stop at a’ near-by street fountain for a drink, He heard a distant bell strike twice, and he knew it must be two o’clock in the morn- ing. His involuntary ride had lasted over ten or twelve hours at least—the length depending upon the time spent in the freight- yard before disturbed by the night watch- man. The street was practically deserted, saving for several men who were staggering along under the influence of liquor. All the stores were closed. ‘*T must find some place to stay for the NEWS. rest of the night, no matter what place I am in,’’ thought Ralph, and he walked on for a dozen blocks or more, looking for a hotel or lodging house. At last he came to a place that was still partly open. Over the door-way was the sign in gold letters: z ROYAL CROWN HOTEL, 3eds, 25 Cents per Night. ‘*Certainly not a very expensive place,’’ thought Ralph, and he peered inside to where a sleepy clerk sat dozing in a chair behind the desk. Entering, he aroused the. clerk, and asked if he could obtain accommodations. . ‘‘Certainly,’’?’ was the prompt reply. ‘‘Single room, one dollar; two _ beds, seventy-five cents: six beds, a quarter. 99? Which will you have?’’ ‘*Any place will do for me, so long as it’s clean,’’ returned the boy, who was not in- clined to be wasteful of his limited capital. The total. amount in his pockets was not over six dollars, part of which belonged to the boatman for whom he worked. ‘* All our beds are clean,’’ said the clerk, sharply. ‘‘Pay in advance, please.’’ Ralph brought out a quarter, and passed it over. ‘*Can | get a bite to eat anywhere before I go to bed?’’ he asked. ‘*There’s an all-night lunch-room on the corner above.” ‘‘Thank you. I[’ll get something, for I have had no supper. I came in on a train and went to sleep. I don’t even know what place this is,’? Ralph went on. ‘*Don’t, eh? This is Jersey City.’’ Jersey City! Could it be possible! he had indeed taken a long trip. Ralph knew that Jersey City lay just across the river from New York. A short ride would take him into the great metrop- olis. Despite the fact that he wished himself safe at home, the thought of seeing New York filled him with pleasure. ‘*T must send word to mother that I am safe and tell her all of what has happened, and then spend a day or two in New York before I go back,’’ he said to himself, ‘‘I may not get the chance of seeing the city again for a long time.’’ falph found the all-night lunch-room without much trouble, and entering, he sat down at one of the numerous tables. He was a well-read boy, and therefore did not ap- pear as ‘‘green’’ as he might otherwise have done. A waiter soon came to serve him. ‘*What will you have?’’ he asked. ‘*What have you got?’? ‘‘All kinds of dairy dishes, tea, coffee, and oysters.’’ ‘‘T’ll take an oyster stew.’ ‘Anything else?’’ **T guess not.’’ The stew was soon brought. It was a fairly good one, and the hungry boy ate it with a great relish, consuming all of the crackers that went with it. While he was eating a short, stout man, with his arm done up in a sling, entered the place, and after gazing around sharply, came and sat down close to Ralph. ‘*How is the stew, pretty good??? asked. ‘*T think so,’’ returned the boy. ‘*All right then. Waiter, an oyster stew.’ While he was eating his stew the man _ be- gan to converse with Ralph. He said his hame was Jackson Walters, and that he had just come into the city from Toledo, Ohio. ‘*And I feel mighty strange,’’ he added. ‘*T)o you know the city pretty well?’ ‘*Not at all. I just got in myself,’’ said Ralph. ‘+ Indeed ! Stopping with friends or at a hotel ‘‘T am going to stop at a hotel over night.’’ This reply seemed to please Jackson Wal- ters, and he drew up, closer, hurrying to finish his stew at the same time. ‘‘Good enough. Perhaps we can stop to- gether. I feel rather lonely here,’’ he said. ‘‘T am afraid my hotel wouldn’t' be good enough for you,’’ replied Ralph, honestly. ‘*T didn’t want to waste my money, and) so chose a cheap place.’’ ‘‘Well, I want something cheap, too,’’ said Jackson Walters. He was more pleased than ever over the idea that Ralph had money even if he did not care to spend it. ‘*Where is the hotel?’’ ‘¢ Just down the street a step. you if you wish it.’’ ‘*Let us take a room together,’’ suggested Jackson Walters, as they left the restaurant. Then he Then we are in the same boat. 99) I will show ‘‘T hate to go right in among perfect strangers, don’t you?’’ ‘*Yes, but it couldn’t be helped. I took a quarter bed, and there are six in a room,”’ ‘*Humph! six! That’s too many. How much do they want for a room for two?’’ ‘‘Seventy-five cents each.’’ ‘*Then I'll tell you what I’ll do—I’ll pay the dollar ‘if you’ll pay the fifty cents. Those rboms with six beds in are vile.’’ Ralph hesitated a moment, and then said he was agreeable. He, too, did not imagine, after some reflection, that the bed for a quarter of a dollar could be very good. They soon reached the hotel, and Jackson Walters explained the new arrangement to the clerk. Ralph paid over another twenty- five cents, and his new friend the dollar, and |} son Walters. then a boy was called to conduct them to Room No. 96 on the third floor. ‘*Call me at half-past seven,’’ said Jack- son Walters. ‘‘I don’t know when you want to get up?’’ he said to Ralph. ‘*That will suit me, sir,’? was the boy’s reply. He usually arose at an earlier hour, but thought he deserved a longer rest, consider- ing what he had passed through. The boy led them up two flights of narrow stairs, and showed them the room, at the same time lighting the gas. He had brought a pitcher of water with him, and placing this on the wash-stand, he left, closing the door behind him. The room was plainly but neatly furnished, and although the bed was scratched and old- fashioned, it was clean. It did not take Ralph long to undress and get under the covers. ‘*Do you sleep with a light?’’ asked Jack- ‘*T never do.”? {Gas iets So the gas was put out, and a moment later Ralph’s companion retired also. Ina few minutes he began to breathe heavily, as though in the soundest of slumbers. But this was allsham. He was far being dSleep, as the sequel soon showed. Ten minutes later Ralph fell asleep, to dream of home and all that had been left behind. In a few minutes after this, Jackson Wal- ters crawled from the bed, and began to don his clothing silently, but in great haste. He put.on his stockings, but placed his shoes in his coat pockets. ; This done, he took up Ralph’s clothing from where they lay on a chair, Witha dexterity worthy of a better cause, he went through the pockets, searching for every- thing of value, His nefarious task was soon accomplished. Ralph slept on unconscious, and did not awaken when Jackson Walters opened the door and glided out. The thief was soon below. The clerk dozed away in the office, and in his stocking feet the man had no difficulty in ‘passing out of the building without being noticed. h Once on the pavement he slipped on his shoes. ‘‘Not much of a haul, but a good deal better than nothing,’’? he chuckled to him- self, and disappeared down the street which led toward the ferries. (TO BE CONTINUED.) —__~- 0» TOO POLITE, ‘*Beg pardon,’’ said a polite stranger, thinking he had grazed an old man’s ankle. ‘*Eh??? said the old gentleman. ‘‘[ beg your pardon,’’ said the polite stranger, shouting. Old Gentleman (unconscious of any hurt) —‘*Why?’? ; Polite Stranger—‘‘I am afraid I kicked ou.”? Old Gentleman—‘‘Eh?”? Polite Stranger (shouting)—‘‘I you!’ : Old Gentleman (surprised)—‘‘What for?”’ Polite Stranger—‘‘It was quite an accl- dent.’’ Old Gentleman (not catching it)—‘‘Eh?”’ Polite Stranger (screaming in his ear)— ** Accident!’ Old Gentleman (terrified) —‘‘ Where, where? You don’t say so? Any one killed?”’ 4 Polite stranger rushes off and misses his train. from kicked —_~>- © A SMART TOAD. Professor Botkine tells of a remarkable instance of intelligence exhibited by a gar- den toad. He was watching the efforts of his pet toad to capture a very large worm. The toad had been sitting still, and giving no sign that it saw anything. The worm gave a little wriggle as it began to come out of the ground, when, quick as a flash, the toad made a leap, and seized the end of the worm in its mouth. : Then began a tug-of-war. Every time that the toad gave a pull the worm drew back, But the toad was not to be discour- aged. It jerked and jerked until it fafrly stood on its hind legs. Still it could not dis- lodge the worm. He glanced down again, and saw the toad twisting its legs about until the worm was wrapped twice around it, then the toad gav® a bop, and out came the worm. > +e —_ TOO SHARP BY A THIRD. Harry had just begun to go to school, and was very proud of what he had learned. One day he thought he would show bis father how much he knew, and asked him at dinner: ‘*Papa, how many. chickens are there 0D that dish?’?’ “Two, my boy,’’ said papa. ‘‘I thought you knew how to count.’’ ‘“‘You’re wrong,’’ said Harry; ‘‘there are three. That’s one, that’s two, and two an one make three.’’ “Very well,’? said his father; ‘‘yout mother may have one for her dinner, I Il take the other, and you can have the third. i ani as wes be Oh ein GooD NEWS. 4559 AMON GCG Goop News iGLuss. [SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column is for Goov NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted excepting such as are genuine GOOD NEWS Club notices, aud nothing in the shape of an advertise- ment will be allowed. Every club notice should have the names of the president and secretary of the elub attached. For information concerning GOOD NEws Club Badge and Electrotypes see ad- vertisemenut on last page. | sordahinenin edhe Dont’s for Goop Nrws: club members. Don’t write letters of inquiry to the club secretaries unless stamp is inclosed; secretaries are overflooded with let- ters of inquiry, and as each letter he writes requires postage, he cannot very well afford to answer those which have not paid for reply. spondence with a club officer. correspond with you, let him make the request, as his office is generally a very busy one, his time being oc- cupied in answering letters, composing club advertise- ments and doing all the writing required of the secre- tary. Don’tsend complaining letters to club officers because you cannot find a correspondent who exactly suits your taste, or because you have not made a profitable exchange with a club brother or sister. If you follow the rules named above you will be a model member, and will be sure to get along nicely with both officers and members. Don’t! Don’t! Don’t fail to join the Goop NrEws Scraps and Patches Correspond- ing Club, as you will surely repent it. We offer as good (if not better), inducements as any club on record. To every one joining inside of two weeks, we will send a photograph of the club secretary. Hvery member receives one year’s subscription to Scraps and Patches, and has hisor her name published in our mail and correspondence directory. To the first one joining we will send Goop News from No. 248 to 260; to the fifth one joining we willsend an interesting novel, and to every tenth, a bundle of reading matter. Our initiation fee is only seven 2c. stamps; dues, 2 cents monthly. Geo. F. Linquist, secretary, 2534 J street, Tacoma, Wash. Fellow newsites! We want your attention fora few moments, please, to remind you of the fact that the Goop NrEws Monumental Young People’s Society will be henceforth known as the Goop News Na- tional Association of Patriotic and Progressive Young Americans, with the following well-known club mem- bers as officers: Wm. Lee Chambers, Plainwell, Mich., president; Wm. H. Quick, Jr., 361 1st street, Brooklyn, N. Y., vice-president; G. Edward Harri- - son, 350 N. Calvert street, Baltimore, Md., secretary and treasurer; Edward Allar, publisher “Leaves from the Press,” 606 2d street, Trenton, N.J., official editor; Edgar B. Huguenin, 3 Lamboll street, Charleston, 8S. C.; Will C. Price, Princton, Mo.; and Oscar C. A. Morgner, 103 Church street, Belleville, Ill., trustees. Tnitiation fee only 25 cents; no dues. Ladies, 5 cents. _ Membership card, three lists of members, list of our _ 107 foreign members in thirty-three different countries, name in our agents’ directory, reading matter, and full particulars to all joining. Objects: Prevention of cruelty to animals, promotion of patriotism, liberty, virtue, and love of country in the hearts of the com- ing nation, ete. Nearly 600 young lady and gentlemen members in the United States, Canada, Nova Scotia, Chili, Australia, Mexico, British Columbia, Alaska, New Brunswick, and in twenty-five other countries. Why notjoinand correspond or exchange stamps with them? Send initiation fee toany of the above named officers. ‘Hercules belonged to no club, but a club belonged to Hercules. A Goop News club may not belong to a boy or girl, but a boy or girl may belong to a Goop NEws clu Especially when there is such a good corresponding and reading club existing like the Goop NEws Fidelity Corresponding Club of Sioux City, Iowa. 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This Club is booming, and will soon be with the leaders. - The first one joining from euch State is made repre- Sentative ofsame. We intend soon to publish a pa- Per to which all members can contribute. The initia- _tion fee for this week is only 5 cents, so join at once. ies and foreigners free. William J. Malone, presi- dent; Joseph Dutton, secretary. _ Here is what you have been waiting for. he Goop News Liberty Corresponding and Exchange Club of Wilton, Conn. This club has over 100 bright young Members who wish to correspond with you. Our Alalifax (Canada) representstive is C. F. Blackadar, 75 Brunswick street, Halifax, N.S. If you live in his icinity, write or call upon him, and he will furnish yOu with full particulars about this club. To’ the irst one joining after this notice appears will be given ne dozen cards with name printed uponeach. All Will receive our new list of members, exchange list, ‘Membership card, how to make inks, and several ther things. Initiation fee, 10 cents; dues, 12 cents Bar quarter in advance; ladies free. Address E. -enedict, Wilton, Conn. o. The membership of Goop News Junior : Philatelic Association has nearly reached fifty. As soon as it ‘“0es, we shall discontinue presenting each member {vith 1,000 stamps, and add other benefits to the club tead. The fiftieth member will receive a standard talogue, or a collection of stamps. Join immedi- Afely, and receive 1,000 fine mixed foreign stamps, Catalogue of United States stamps, lists, certificate of Membership, ete., and the Junior Philatelist one year. The initiation fee is 10 cents; dues, 25 cents per year, J PY of constitution on application. F.G. Watkins, _“?., secretary, 839 6th street, Louisville, Ky. b Here weareagain, Weare ready for more mem- ioe Send 10 cents, and be enrolled asa member of the Goop Nuws Reading Club of Rankin, Pa. This b always does what it says. We never make any € offers. If you want to correspond with any of fe Jolly members, why, get your name on the list; You want to exchange stamps, novels, etc., why, fnd in your exchange list. Join now, before we -Taise the joining fee. We have no dues, and ladies are - itted free, All questions cheerfully answered by Pa Scretary, J. M. Crom, Rankin, Allegheny, Co., fa in Goop News Garden City Corresponding Club ‘ Chicago, Ill, Our former president having resigned, are about to elect anew one. The secretary and ‘tieasn Surer is W. J. Russell. We are trying to make a Sthe most forward Goop News branch. Branch : fice fscan join fora 2c. stamp. First joining from | ton, Ky., has one good camera lens, that cost $6 when each State made representative. For further particu- lars address the Portland avenue. Join Goop News Musical Club and receive a hand- some card of membership and our new list of mem- bers. We know you would be pleased with our club, as itis one of the best, although not so old, nor so large aS some. Initiation fee, 10 cents. Watch for our notice next week. C. J. Anita, Iowa. Decatur’s Goop News Corresponding Club is rap- ! idly gaining the reputation of being the best club in existence. Initiation fee, 10 cents; nodues. Ladies and foreigners free. You receive by return mail, membership card, list of members, badge, etc. Ad- | dress the secretary, Percy Ewing, 750 W. Main street, Decatur, 111. Only 6 cents to join the Star Goop News Exchange Club of Burlington, Iowa; no dues; ladies and for- eigners free; officers of other clubsa 2c. stamp. AS a premium you can have either a bundle of reading | matter or package of stamps. Address the secretary, | Arthur Breitenstein, 1389 Angular street, Burlington, secretary, W. John Russell, 2570 ‘ | lowa. Don’t seek corre- } Lowe Ifhe would like to} _. \ | York, and you will never regret it. Join Goop News Corresponding Club of New No dues, no | initiation fee. Particulars, reading matter, applica- | tion blanks for three Ic. stamps, to cover postage. | Geo. C. Crowley, 1358 Lexington avenue. Important notice! For a short time you can join | the Goop Nrws Reading and Exchange Club of | Orangeville, Md., at half price. No initiation fee. | For particulars address Stanislaus, Carrick, Orange- ville, Md. . a oe cei : XCHANGE a Lipioceliehgieetiedin EPARTMENT. (ImMporRTANT.—This column is free to cll 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 uot insert any “for sale” advertisements, nor exchanges of fire-arms, explosives, dangerous or wortbless articles. If exchange notices do not appear ina veasonable time, it may be understood that they were not accepted. Address al] communications for this column to “Exchange De- partment."] a tiie STAMPS.—D. Replogle, Flora, Ill., will give 125 foreign stamps for a set from 1 to 10, inclusive, of the 1890 or 1894 issue; eighty-five foreign for all over 10c., thirty foreign, all different, for 8c. or 8c. Columbian; | 100 foreign, all different, for a 15c. Columbian; 175 foreign for 100 1c. Columbians, 100 United States for a 3c. or 6c. Columbian, eighty-five foreign for twenty United States Revenue or bank stamps; also has sev- eral unused 3c. Columbian stamps to exchange for Columbian stamps, or stamps of any issue; stamps must be above 2c. Wants to hear from ‘persons hay- ing good stamps to exchange. Send stamps and re- ceive his. MISCELLANEOUS.—O. H. Akin, Oquawka, IIl., has Vols. 1 to 6 Goop Nrws; thirty-seven volumes of other story papers, six volumes of magazines, $12 Snare drum, and 150 bound books to exchange for bound books, or best offer. Send list and receive same. LENS.—W. Wittman, 153 E. Main street, Lexing- new, to exchange for a good B flat cornet, or best offer. Please inclose 2c, stamp and letters answered sooner. All letters and postals answered that are satisfactory. Also has all kinds of electrical goods to exchange. STAMPS, ETC.—F. G. Watkins, Jr., 839 6th street, Louisville, Ky., has foreign stamps to trade in any quantity for United States stamps, or type, cuts, or other printing material; watch, books, etc., for same; copies of amateur papers to exchange for others, 1,000 foreign stamps for 8,000 United States (common), 1,000 foreign for 250 Columbians, mixed. BIRDS’ EGGS, ETC.—Tom Scothorn, Box 67, Osa- watomie, Kan., has a collection of thirty five different birds’ eggs, and some boys’ papers to exchange for stamps or sinall printing outfit. All letters answered. GOOD NEWS.—Frank Tucker, 12 Winn Park, Wo- burn, Mass., has five volumes of Goop Nrws, Vols. 5 and 10, and the last half of Vol. 4, to exchange for electrical goods, or best offer. ELECTRICAL GOODS.—James T. Steen, 118 Main street, Greenville, S. C., has one-half horse-power motor, three cells:of storage batteries, three cells of carbon and zinc batteries to exchange for a dynamo. STAMPS.—I. H. Kunsman, 816 2d avenue, New York city, will exchange with parties beginning or having small collection of foreign stamps, not in their collection, for good United States or Columbian stamps, at catalogue prices. GAMES, ETC.—K. McKinnon, 81 Quincy street, Somerville, Mass., has games, stamps, curiosities, etc., to exchange for 5 and 10-cent novels, or coins. Send list and receive his. MISCELLANEOUS.—Boyd Bidwell, Box 300, Roch- ester, Ind., has fifty-three 5-cent libraries, a magic lan- tern, with full set of slides, or fife to exchange for best offer. All letters answered if stamp is inclosed. GOOD NEWS.—Max Matthews, 55 Potomac street, Dayton, Ohio, has Goop News, from 192 to date (no numbers missing, and in good condition), to exchange for a sét of boxing-glovyes, or a punching-bag, or Kombi camera, or a good pair of opera-glasses; goods must be in good condition. All letters answered. MISCELLANEOUS.—A. H. Chandler, Cumberland Mills, Me., has some cloth-bound books, about forty 50-cent and thirty 25-cent novels, an equal number of 5 and 10-cent libraries, Goop News, No. 4 to 275; some other papers, electrical goods, some jewelry, curios, stamps, printing press, typewriter, watch, etc., to exchange for athletic and sporting goods, and offers. All letters answered. CAMERA.--F, P, Warner, 800 N. Talman avenue, Chicago, Tll., has a pocket camera, that cost $5, to ex- change for best offer. Would like to hear from per- sons haying typewriter, boxing-gloves, or reading matter. GOOD NEWS.—James Todd, 69 2d avenue, Cleve- land, Ohio, has Goon Nrws, from 223 to present num- ber, all in good condition, and a war relic to exchange for best offer in United States stamps. / READING MATTER.—David Florence, 702 E. Jane street, West Bay City, Mich., has forty-seven Goop Nrws, of Vols. 9, 10, 11; a large number of other boys’ papers, six novels, three magazines, twenty-two New York Weeklies, and five 25-cent novels to exchange for Vols. 2, 3, 4, or 5, 6, 7 of GooD NeEws, or best offer. STAMPS.—Samuel Asher, Cheyenne,,Wyo., has 140 above 2c., and 800 common Ic. and 2c. stamps to ex- change for 125 1c. and 2c. Columbians, or best offer in 5-cent novels. Inclose stamp. ATR-GUN.—Roy Lewis, 38 Clinton street, Fort Wayne, Ind., has one air-gun, value $1, to exchange for best offer in magic lantern pictures, size 6x14 inches, ; PHILATELIC PAPERS.—Jobn Baumgartner, 270 North 4th street, Philadelphia, Pa., has Scott’s and Mekeel’s 1895 catalogue of postage stamps, perfora- McKinley, secretary, | . ~ 7 : ‘ . Ze ‘ =m Ys | ington avenue, New York city, philatelist, will give a book, 1895, and a duplex pocket miscroscope, valued at 50 cents, all in good condition, to exchange for best offer—magazines and story papers. STAMPS.—P. R. Wood, Box 572, New Brighton, Beaver County, Pa., will give ten foreign stamps for | every stamp paper sent him; twelve for every cov- ered stamp paper, 100 foreign stamps for a 6c. Colum- bian, 300 for a 15c. Columbian. MISCELLANEOUS.—George ©. Crowley, 1358 Lex- | 6-cent library for every two stamp journals sent him; ‘lamp, nearly new. tion gauge and millimetre scale, the standard color chart, Davidson’s philatelic concordance and address Vols. 4, 5, 6, and 9 Goop Nrws, bound in paper, for Vols. 1, 2, and 8 Good News. . Correspondence solic- ited. READING MATTER.—James N. Gale, Box 230, Canton, N. Y., will exchange two cloth-bound books, | “Hidden Hand” and “Luck and Pluck,” for two vol- |umes of Goop NEws; two volumes of other boys’ vapers for one volume, or one 25-cent book for every > | six numbers of Goop Nrws sent him, after No. 104; | must be in good condition. All letters and postals an- swered. _ STAMPS.—H. C. Annas, 927 10th avenue, Port Huron, Mich., has 2,000 2c. red United States stamps to exchange for any twenty Columbians above 2c. MISCELLANEOUS.—Walter Scott, Madison, Ohio, | has one large-size dark lantern, one pair patent roller skates, Goop News, from 147 to date, and detec- | tive libraries to exchange for best offer in sporting goods; boxing-gloves preferred. STAMPS.—L. Phillips, 8 Beech street, Indianap- olis, Ind., will give a Mekeel’s complete standard | catalogue of 1895, cost 50.cents, and is as good as new, for fifteen Columbians above 2c; fifty varieties of for- eign stamps for every Columbian above 2c., 100 foreign stamps for every twenty Ic. and 2c. Columbians, TYPEWRITER, ETC.—E. A. Griffin, 907 N. Main street, Decatur, Tll., has. a Merrill typewriter, cost $15; copying machine, cost $6, and large lot of boys’ pa- pers and novels to exchange for a kodak, in good condition, or best offer. READING MATTER.—John Mackey, 89 Cottage street, Rochester, N. Y., has thirty-six boys’ papers, twenty-six story papers, forty old English magazines, and scientific papers to exchange for Vol, 1 of Goop NEWS, athletic goods, or best offer. VOL. 1 OF GOOD NEWS.—William Travers, 11 Joy place, Somerville, Mass., has Vol. 1 of Goop NEws to exchange for Goop Nrws after Vol. 2, or before No. 205, or Columbian stamps above 8c. MISCELLANEOUS.—William J. Malone, Forest- ville, Conn., has the following articles to exchange.for | a self-inking printing press, chase 4x6, or larger, in ; good condition, or for printing material: Seventy-five Goop News, about 100 other boys’ papers, about thirty 5 and 10-cent novels, and several other novels, ‘‘Life | of Daniel Boone,’’ bound book of “Robinson Crusoe,”’ | a history of England, a pair of hair clippers, and a fife, all in good condition. All letters and postals an- swered. FOOT-BALL SHIN-GUARDS.—Arthgr S. Rush- ton, rear, 59 River street, Pawtucket, R. I., has one pair of foot-ball shin-guards, almost new, to exchange tor Vol. 8 of Goop NEws, or any other volume before Vol. 11. All letters answered. MISCELLANEOUS.—Marion Wilkerson, Garvin, Texas, has stamps, 1,000 story papers, and instructions in painting to exchange for camera, typewriter, or books. STAMPS.—William McDonnell, 1646 Madison ave- nue, New York city, has United States Revenue 2c. | certificate (blue) to exchange for a 50c. Columbian, used, ora 30c. Columbian, unused; other good stamps | to exchange for high valued Columbians. MISCELLANEOUS.— C. J. Doherty, 239 Adam street, Rochester, N. Y., has one stamp album, with sixty-eight United States stamps, valued at $4.24, and 225 foreign stamps; six approval sheets, twenty-five stamps to a sheet; four different stamped envelopes, 300 mixed United States and foreign stamps, one book on electricity, one evergreen State philatelist, 300 pic- ture cards, 300 name and address cards, one hand- } printing outfit, one bicycle repair bag, with outfit, and two pair of toe-clips, different, new, vaiue $2.50, to ex- change for a cornet, or best offer in one article. All letters ald postals answered. BANJO AND NOVELS.—Charles R. Duckworth, W. Maple avenue, Greensburg, Pa., has a banjo, 25- cent novels, and sixty-five cheaper novels to exchange for a self-inking printing press, at least 4x6 chase. All offers giving good description will be answered, ° MISCELLANEOUS.—H. Mills, Hickman P. 0., Allegheny County, Pa,, has two bound books, costing $2.25; also four 8c., one 10c., one 6c., one 3c. Columbian stamps; also four 5c., two 10c., one 3c. United States stamps; nineteen 5d., fourteen 2d., five 1d, English stamps; two 5c., five 3c., five 1c. Canadian stamps; also eleven numbers in Vol. 6, twenty-one numbers in Vol. 7, sixteen numbers in Vol. 8, twenty-one num- bers in Vol. 9 of Goop News; six numbers in Vol. 10; also nineteen picture cards of different countries to exchange for books, novels, snap-shot camera, or Kombi and outfit. All letters answered instantly. STAMPS.—Robert Hallsted, Lebanon, Ohio, has seventy-five (all different) foreign stamps to exchange for the 15e. and 30c. stamps of 1890 issue. Would like to hear from Canadian collectors. MISCELLANEOUS.—William J. Wirt, 224 18th street, Buffalo, N. Y., would like to exchange United States and foreign stamps on approval sheets; birds eggs, sets and singles, and a $5 nickle-plated bicycle no Send for list of birds’ eggs he de- sires in exchange. Birds’ eggs, Indian relics, books on natural history, and birds, and any back number of Goop News. All cards and letters answered. ~ JOLD WATCH, ETC.—H. N. McBride, Waterloo, I on has a hunting-case gold watch, and a 160-egg in- cubator and brooder and all attachments complete, to exchange fora safety bicycle, an iron lathe, a small iron planer, a power drill press, or a good parlor organ. BOYS’ PAPERS.—C. H. Longmire, 918 Madison street, Brooklyn, N. Y., has to exchange for telegraph outfit for practice, or best offer: A large number of boys’ papers; also 840, all different, picture cards, in good condition. STAMPS.—H. J. Troxell, Allentown, Pa., has stamps to exchange for Goop News, in good con- dition; Nos. 235 to 257 preferred. PUNCHING-BAG.—Percy 8S. Ewing, 750 W. Main street, Decatur, Ill., has a good punching-bag, cost $5, that has been used hardly any, and a collection of 200 varieties of stamps to exchange for best offers. READING MATTER.—Henry Berger, 685 W. Erie street, Chicago, Ill., has Goop NEws, from 252 to date; other boys’ papers, and a History of the Civil War to exchange for Vols. 2, 3,4, and 5 of Goop NEws, or best offer. STAMPS.—Edward Stern, 2250 Jefferson avenue, Fordham, New York city, will give fifteen choice foreign stamps for every United States medicine, match, perfumery, or playing-card of any kind; dupli- cates taken. ZADING MATTER.—W. Lienert, 28 Easton stn Buttalo, N. Y., has a book, entitled ‘Marine Album,” to exchange for best offers. MISCELLANEOUS.—Charles A. Hulstrom, 302 East 38th street, New York city, has three games— Nellie Bly, Innocents Abroad, and Lost in the Woods —a pair of ice skates, double ink and pen-holder, $1.50, and a 50-cent magic lantern, one-half dozen brown polished pen-holders, 200 blank visiting cards, and the | *“Deerslayer,’’ by Fenimore Cooper, to exchange for | Stamps, rare coins, opera-glasses, camera, or best | offer. | MISCELLANEOUS—N. R. Lowry, 3306 King street, | Austin, Texas, will give a 2c rose Confederate States | stamp for every three whole, six half, or twelve quar- ter American Tobacco Company premium certificates, or for fifty Durham coupons. READING MATTER.--Lou Marquis, care P. 0. Box 483, Manchester, N. H., has books, papers, novels, ete., to exchange for best offer. All letters answered. MISCELLANEOUS.— Arthur Bushel, 4 Monroe street, So. Norwalk, Conn., has an Excelsior self- inking printing press, print 3 1-8x51-8 inches, three fonts of type, leads, cuts, brass rule, and cards to ex- change for Goop NEws, complete, or best offer. READING MATTER.—Robert Ives, 903 N. 6th street, Burlington, Iowa, has two 25-cent books, fifteen 5-cent novels, six comic weeklies, and eight Goop NeEws to exchange for Nick Carter Libraries, or 25- cent detective books, MISCELLANEOUS.-—-J. J. Lippy, Beile Plaine, cent novels, Vol. 4 of Goop NEws, and two volumes of other boys’ papers, birds’ eggs, and other articles to exchange for stamps, or other birds’ eggs not in his collection. MISCELLANEOUS.—Orville Walden, Uncasville, Conn., has 25-cent books, old coins, and United States and foreign stamps to exchange for postagc due stamps. READING MATTER.—Glenn R. Guernsey, Irwin, Mo., has a large number of story papers and maga- zines, value $2.25, to exchange for best offer in Goop NEws, boys’ papers, printing press, or material. Qur Mail Bag. be wee ng ou subjects of generai interest only are dealt with in the ‘Mail Bag.” Medical or egal questions not auswered. Goop NrEws goes to press two weeks in advance of date of publication, and there- fore alswers canuot appear uutil'two or three weeks after we receive them. Comuuunications intended for this colunin should be addressed Goop News “Mail Bag,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.] —e———. Kid, Ironton, Ohio.—1. To make redink: Dissolve 1 part of carmine in 8 to 10 parts of aqua ammonia, and add musilage of gui arabic sufficient to reduce it properly. 2. To make green ink: To powered bichro- mate of potassa, 8 parts, contained in a porcelain dish, add oil of vitriol, 8 parts, previously diluted with 64 of water; then heat, while evaporating, add gradually 24 parts of alcohol, and reduce to 56 parts, which filter, and in theclear liquor dissolve 8 parts of gum arabic. 3. To make phosphorous or luminous ink : Take phos- phorous, half-drachm ; oil cinnamon, half-ounce ; mix in vial, cork tightly, heat it slowly until mixed. A letter written with this ink can only be read in a dark room, when the writing will have the appearance of fire. 4. We do not understand what you mean by this, Write more clearly. Vo Address.—l. In the address on the wrapper of your Goop NEws the small figures (302) indicate the folio which your name occupies on our books; the large figures (284) show the number of Goop Nrws at which your subscription expires. 2. The titles of some of the serials in Vol. 5° and 6 were “Chased Through Norway,” “ Bob Porter at Lakeview Acad- emy,” ‘The Fool of the Family,” ‘Frank Hunter’s Peril,” “Kit Carey’s Protegee,”’ ‘‘ Jack the Inventor,” “Tom Havens with the White Squadron,” “The aa Plotters,” ‘‘ Uncle Sam’s Jack Tars,” ‘“‘ Messenger Boy No. 48,” “Matt Merriman,’ “Commodore Frank,” “Last Chance Mine,’ ‘The Treasure of the Golden Crater,” and “‘ Exiled to Siberia.” 3. Not yet, but he has just finished a story for us which we shall publish shortly. , : H. G., Seattle, Wash.—A cure for knock-knees is the following: Place a book about an inch and a half thick between the knee-joints while sitting on a chair, the legs’ being stretched out, and the ankles of both feet being placed close to each other. This will at first be attended with difficulty and pain; butasa boy’s sinews are not made of fron, perseverance in time will render the limbs pliable, and in a month or two they will gradually yield to their proper shape. After practicing with a single book increase its num- ber or bulk, still keeping the legs stretched and the ankles close. By repeating this proceeding often, it must be a very bad case that is not effectually cured in six months. N. D. C., Rome, N. Y.—The alphabets of the differ- ent nations contain the following number of letters: - English, 26; French, 23; Italian, 20; Spanish, 27; Ger- man, 26; Sclavonian, 27; Russian, 41; Latin, 22; Greek, 24; Hebrew, 22; Arabic, 28; Persian, 32; Turkish, 33; Sanscrit, 50; Chinese, 214. This inven- tion of letters, by combining which all sounds could be represented, is ascribed to some wise Phcenician or Egyptian, in the reign of Cadmus, King of Thebes. W. B., Meridian, Miss.—1. To organize a Goon News club.simply call your meeting, decide on the name, object, and rules of your club, and elect your officers, If everything is satisfactory, we shall then be glad to print your notices. 2. It is 1,148 miles from Meridian to New York city. although many of his adventures are founded on fact. G. A, R., Chicago, Ill.—-1. Sept. 29, 1881, fell on Mon- day. 2. The Secretary of State under President Arthur was F, T. Frelinghuysen of New Jersey. Of course he was an American. 3. The salaries of base-ball players vary greatly, all the way from $5,000 to $1,500. A, Italy and Hungary have probably produced the best violin players. No Name, Madisén, Ohio.—1. The best record for one mile on skates is 2 min. 12 3-5 sec. 2. The fastest one mile on a bicycle is 2 min. 221-5 sec. 3. The high- est pole-vaulting record is 11 ft. 9in. 4, The longest distance covered in pole-vaulting is 27 ft.5in. 5. It will probably be six or seven years before the Panama canal is ready to be opened. Cadet Carey, Boston, Mass.—1. A letter addressed simply to the Commandant, Naval Academy, Annap- olis, Md., will be sufficient. 2. You are far above the average in every respect, and if you have no physical disability, you ought certainly to pass. A. N. R., Atlanta, Ga.—As we have frequently stated, the only nickel cent on which there isa pre- mium is that of 1856, which is worth from halfa dollar to a dollar, according to condition. ) A. E. P., Norwalk, Obio.—You failed to send a coupon with your guess. All guesses for the Letter O Contest must be written upon the coupons to be found in Goop NEWS. F.C. W., St: Louis, Mo.—1. The “‘ mustache grower’’ ought to cost about fifty cents. 2. A pale gray paint, with delicate lines of pink or blue would look well. Jack of Diamonds, Minneapolis, Minn.—You are very tall for your age, but you could well stand a few more pounds in weight. A. B. A. N, E., Sorkerville, Mass.—It will cost you fifty cents a line for the advertisement you desire. A Constant Reader, Brooklyn, N. Y.—Espana means Spain. Habana means Havana. Kan., has twenty 5-cent libraries, twenty 25 and 50- © 8. No. Heis a fictitious character, ~ ! Several communications left over to be answered next kJ . -: ete se amo he ERS eg BSE ewes TAL ~- ees ee ee ke ee CHAPTER IX. 7RASTUS ATTENDS A LIVELY BALL. AHE next day ’Rastus got the notion 2 into his head that’ he must give up e \ waiting. “7 Accordingly he gave notice that he was going to quit, and got out. He went up to New York, and in less than a week he hadn’t a cent in his pockets. He was out of money and out of a job. What was to be done next? ‘“Wondah ef old Latinass would kick me all ter pieces ef I tackled him ag’in?’’ he said to himself. ‘‘Ef he’sin de right kind ob spirits he might do a heap fo’ me. Reckon I’se gwine ter try him, anyway.’ And off he planked for the old man’s resi- dence. As he approached the house he saw a tall, young man hurry out of the hall and down the steps. , Theitall, young man had several overcoats on his arm. **Hello, wo’t dis?’ Then the young fellow began to run up the street. And at the same time old Latinass ap- peared at the door. ‘‘Stop the thief!’’ he roared. thief !’’ Instantly ’Rastus made after the flying figure. He overtook the fellow at the corner. ‘*Hol? up dar!’’ he cried. ‘*Whar’s de checks fo’ dem clo’s?’?’ ‘*let me go!’’ howled the sneak thief. ‘No yer don’t. Give up dem coats. Here, police !”’ ‘‘Take the coats!’’ growled the feilow. And he fired them right into ’Rastus’ face. Over went the coon, with the coats on top of him. When he got up the sneak thief had disap- peared. ‘*Nebber mind; I’se got der stuff,’’ mut- tered our coon. With the coats on his arm, he returned to old Latinass’ mansion. The old man, in his dressing-gown, was dancing about the steps like a crazy man. ‘*Where’s that villain? Oh, where is that villain?’’ he roared. ‘*Here’s dem clo’s, Mistah Latinass,’ turned ’Rastus. And he spread the stuff out one coat after another. ‘*Thank you! thank yo—— Why, what in the duse, if it isn’t ’Rastus!’’ And the old man stopped short with his mouth wide open. ‘“Yes, sah. Good-afternoon, sah, if it an’t too early, sah. How have you been, sah?’’ returned our coon, politely. ‘*Where—where—did you come from?’’ ‘Right from Long Branch, sah. T’ought yo’ might want me, sah, ez I war disen- gaged, sah.’’ ‘*Want, you!’’ howled Latinass. ‘‘Why, the last time you were here I kicked you out.’’ ‘‘Ts dat so? I disremember de ’casion, Sah. Werry sorry, sah, we war allers sech good friends.’’ The old man stared at ’ Rastus. The impudence of the coon nearly took his breath away. ‘*Yes, we were good friends,’’ he growled. ‘‘And dat’s de reason I called dis morn- ‘*Stop the ? Te- ‘*Has yo’ got a valley now?’’ “SNOT Anie,?” ‘Den de job is open fo’ me?’’ - What!’’ *¥ aller likes to serbe yo’, sah.’ ‘*Well, you did mea service in stopping that thief, that’s a fact,’’ replied Latinass, slowly. He was trying to think. He had kicked ’Rastus out, but, for all that, he knew the coon was the best. he had aver hired to attend him. And he was badly in need of somebody. And _ so, in the end, ’Rastus went to work for Mr. Euclid Latinass once more. And for a week everything went like a charm, In the meanwhile the Dogwood Blossoms gave a grand ball. The Blossoms were a set of the toniest coons that sported around the district. There were about thirty of them, and every one was a masher from Masherville. *Rastus had once been a member, and, of course, he was on deck to go. He invited Mame to accompany him, and then got himself up regardless, He wore a _ plum-colored, swallow-tail coat, a box vest, cut so low that it ex- hibited a yard of fluted shirt front, in which was fastened a diamond the size of a salt- cellar, anda pair of striped trousers that would have made a tiger howl with dismay. And then the patent leathers worn on the occasion! Never in the history of a ball had | such a pair been seen. Johnson when he ‘saw them declared they outshone the diamond, and made him blind. ‘‘Dis is de time I’se gwine ter spread my- self,’’ muttered ’Rastus, as he admired him- self in the glass. Then he sailed out, and went for Mame Squinter. There was a lively time going on at the girl’s house. Mame was gotten up in a style superb enough to paralyze somebody. And Major Sudge was there trying to per- suade her to attend the ball with him. Old man Squinter favored the major. He was carried away with the , uniform trimmed with yellow and the shining but- tons. ‘‘Go wid de majah, Mame,’’ ‘‘Nebber mind dat Doolittle coon.’’ ‘‘He’s de dandy coon fo’ me,’’ replied the girl. And she took our coon’s arm, and sailed for the door. Then the major tried to stop them. The next moment ’Rastus landed him one in the jaw, and another in the eye. ‘‘Wid my compliments,’’ he said. ‘‘Wh—whad yer doin’?’’ spluttered the military dark. He was taken completely by surprise, ‘“Teachin’ yo’ to mind yo’ own bus’ness,’’ returned ’Rastus. And then taking Mame by the arm, he hurried away, leaving the major behind, swearing vengeance. When they arrived at the hall, they found a large crowd assembled. The Dogwood Blossoms were going to out- do themselves. The hall was highly decorated with flowers and palms, and a first-class orches- tra was playing an overture A little later the grand mareh com- menced, and ’Rastus and his girl were the center of admiration. This gave our coon the swelled head, ‘*T’se de boss coon ob de ward!’’ he called out. ‘*Yo’ is w’en yo’s asleep,’’ sneered Major Sudge, who had just arrived, alone. ‘*Go ’way, fo’ I do yo’ up,’’ growled ’Rastus. Sudge concluded it was best to obey. He was aching to get even with ’ Rastus, but he didn’t know how to do it. He braced Mame to dance with him, but she gave him the cold shoulder. Then he asked several other girls. But Mame had put them onto the racket, telling them how mean he had acted, and not a one would have anything to do with him, This made him madder than ever, and he resolved to break that ball up in short order, even if he had to set fire to the build- ing to do it. ‘link da is gwine ter use me fo’ a lump ob a fool,’’ he muttered. ‘‘Jess wait till I show ’em wot I kin do,.’’ In a quarter of an hour he had his little plan arranged. He had noticed several weak spots in the floor overhead, and now sneaked in the room behind the saloon to see what could be done toward making those spots still weaker. Five minutes later he emerged with a smile on his face. H6 had loosened several boards in the floor. ““*Dat’s move number one,’’ he said to himself. ‘‘Now fo’ de second.”’ He ascended the stairs with his razor hid in the folds of his long coat, Ata moment when the musicians were having a round below, he passed the razor over the fiddle and bass fiddle strings, and also over the head of the drum. And rammed a potato into the cornet, and a hunk of cheese into the flute, ‘*Dat settles de music fo’ dis night.’’ Then he sneaked below and into the cellar, where. he knew the gas-meter must be located. Presently the musicians came back re- freshed, and all hands got ready for a waltz. said he. NEWS. | : a ae ei eS _ ’Rastus was going to do his greatest with Mame. The leader of the orchestra gave the signal for the start. Not a note sounded! ‘*What is ze matta?’’ he you no play ze waltz?”’ Before any one could answer, the lights went out, leaving the place in utter dark- ness. There were loud cries from the ladies, “Oh, deah, who put out dem lights?’? ‘*Turn on de gas!”? ‘*Whar’s de lan’lord of de shebang?”’ ‘*Yum-yum-yum! How I does lub de dark!’’ ‘George, git ’way from me!’’ And half a hundred other remarks, Suddenly there was a crash in the middle of the floor. Several coons had stepped on those loose boards. Down they went to the room below ‘*What’s de mattah?’’ **De floor’s gibbin’ way !’’ ‘*De buildin’ an’t safe!’’ ‘*Anudder Park Place tragedy !’’ **fo’ de law’s sakes, let me git right out ob dis!?? Then there was a wild dash for the narrow stairs. In an instant Mame and ’Rastus were separated, Mame being one of the first to got out. ‘*Make way dar fo’ me!’’ ‘*Git orf ob my feet!’’ ‘*Hay, dar, let go dat coat!’’ ‘*Who took my hat?’’ ‘*Whar’s de coon dat hit me in de eye?”’ ‘*Who’s a knockin’ me in de teef?’’ >Rastus was struggling for dear life. He didn’t know but what the building was really coming down. _ And he wanted to get out quite as badly as any one. He dove right into the crowd. And, squirming like an eel, he managed at last to get down the stairs and out on the street. But he was a sight to inspect. His beautiful coat was split clear to the collar, the big diamond was gone, he had no hat, and one of the patent leathers was missing. And, worst of all, no ‘sooner had he reached the pavement than a special police- man, who had been rung up to find out what the excitement was about, wanted to arrest him. ‘*No, yo’ doan’,’’? howled our coon, skip- ping away. ‘*Hopes yo’ enjoyed dat ball,’’ put in Sudge, who was watching for him. ’Rastus glared at him, and then limped away without replying. He felt sore all over, and his beautiful duds were a thing of the past. ‘‘Dat settles me an’ de Dogwood Blos- soms,’’? he moaned. ‘‘De nex’ time da has a ball, I stays to home, suah.’’ (TO BE CONTINUED.) “Why howded. STUD A thorough and practical Business Education in Book-keeping, Shorthand, ete., given by MAIL at student’s home. Low rates, Cat. free. Trial lesson 10c, Write to BRYANT & STRAT. TON, 44 College Bldg, Buffalo, N.Y. Mention Good News. ARRIAGE PAPER with 1,000 ads. and photos of marriageable people, many rich, lists of rare books, etc., free. GUNNELS’ MONTHLY, Toledo, Ohio. Mention Good News. This cut is the exact size and style of the GOooD NEWS Club Badge, The badge is made of a high grade of German silver; artistic in design and something every reader will be proud to wear. Any reader send- ing us 10 cents in stamps or silver will receive a badge. Electrotypes for print- ing the badge on letter heads, cards, etc., will be sent post-paid on receipt of twenty-five cents. Ten cents is all that is required to secure this handsome badge. Address GoobD News Corre sponding Club, 29 Rose street, New York. ~ QUT-DOOR SPORTS. S. & S. Manual Library No. 7. Price, 10 Cents. 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