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Ode bole aes eee a ES CO
Entered
Vol aL
29 Rose Street,
STREET & SMITH,
Publishers,
Ne
According to
WwW
Act of Congress,
Entered as Second-class ae ‘ the New
New York, May 18, 1895
SFG
in the Year 1895, by Stre
York.
HiHll
i / } S E-E-OOP-P!”?
} ‘*What in the duse is
¥ with you, Sel?”’
‘ ‘*Whoop! Whoop!’’
cof
| ‘*Hold him, Deb.’’
‘*Hurrah!
|
the
Washington,
Subscription Price,
ee COP Pere.
THE ADVENTURES OF A GOOD NEWS TRAVELING CLUB.
A STORY OF THE PACIFIC COAST,
matter |
such spendid news, chums! It’ll
NW a 2 ee do Sa
ty
YWUYTT)
D.C;
ee ee eee
No. 263.
2.50 per Year.
DISK;
BY ENRIQUE H. LEWIS,
“A Young Free Lance,”
“The King of the Island,” etc
I’s a solution to
shall
to death.
just tickle you
the ‘Big Four’
the problem as to where
spend their vacation.’’
‘*What is it?’’
‘*Tell us at once.’’
‘‘No; you will have to hustle a little be-
fore you learn the grand scheme. Geta
|move on you. The fellow who beats me to
the rendezv ous can read the letter first. Off
we go
As he last words, Selden
uttered the
4194
Bruce, the speaker, a bright-faced, athletic
lad of seventeen years of age, darted away
at the top of his speed, waving an open
letter as he ran.
Trailing after him, and in hot pursuit,
came three boys of almost equal age. The
first, Debney Fair, or ‘‘Deb,’’ as his inti-
mates called him, was tall and thin, and
possessed of legs which fairly devoured
space.
The second, Lee Stanford, was short, and
strongly inclined to corpulency. He made
hard work of the race, and gazed despair-
ingly at the third boy, who darted past him
with a shout of derision.
‘‘Hold on there, Charlie Burr!’’ wailed
the fat youth. ‘‘Give a fellow a chance,
won’t you?’’
**Can’t do it, Chunk; you heard what Sel
said. He has glorious news in that letter,
and we’ll all know it before you get there,’’
was the consoling reply, given from a dis-
tance.
A moment later, the leader, with his two
followers, disappeared around the corner of
a building, leaving the stout boy waddling
along in vain pursuit. Presently ‘‘Chunk,’’
‘as he was called, for obvious reasons, suc-
ceeded in catching up with his chums.
They had reached the rendezvous. The
latter. was rather unique in its way. About
twenty feet from the ground, and perched
upon the stout limb of a stouter tree, was a
eircular platform, made of thick boards. It
was partially inclosed with canvas, and
afforded a snug retreat.
When Chunk Stanford gained the spota
rope-ladder was lowered by Deb Fair, who
bade him ascend at once. The task caused
the corpulent youth to perspire freely, but
he finally reached the platform.
Situated on a,local railroad, not many
miles from the metropolis of the Pacific
coast, San Francisco, is a well-known train-
ing college for young men. It embraces in
its numerous branches of study both mechan-
ical and civil engineering, and is patronized
by the best families of the far West.
Among the scholars in attendance at the
time of which we write were the four just in-
troduced to the reader. They were from
different States, but that fact did not pre-
vent them from ‘‘chumming’’ together, and
they were known far and wide as the ‘‘ Big
Four’’ of Shasta College. Their reputation
was not derived entirely from their scholarly
attainments, but, if those living near can be
believed, from sundry mad pranks as well.
The acknowledged leader was good-natured
Selden Bruce. He lived in San Francisco
with an uncle; his mother and father hav-
ing died in Shanghai, China, where Sel was
born. The elder Bruce had been an export
merchant, and in that business had amassed
a large fortune.
On opening his will, it had been found, to
the surprise of all, that he had left his en-
tire wealth to his brother, Joshua Bruce, a
man little liked in the foreign bund of
Shanghai. Joshua was retiring in disposi-
tion, and of such a repelling nature that
even his more sunny-tempered brother could
hardly remain at peace with him. Those
better acquainted with the Bruce family
learned from certain incidents that Joshua
dominated Sel’s father, and some even
hinted at a mysterious influence.
Be that as it may, Selden Bruce, Sr., left
his fortune to Joshua, and provided for his
son by simply requesting the uncle to look
after him until he was old enough to gain a
livelihood for himself.
Shortly after the death of his brother,
Joshua moved to San Francisco, taking Sel
with him. In due time he embarked in an
importing business, dealing directly with
China and Japan. Selden attended a private
school in the city until his fifteenth year,
then he was sent to Shasta College to com-
plete his education.
He hailed the change with delight, as the
home life with his uncle was not of the most
exhilarating kind. He was an easy-tempered
lad, happy-go-lucky in disposition, and in-
tensely fond of outdoor sports. From the
loomy house on Nob Hill, where the Bruces
ived, to the academy in the country, was a
step greatly in Sel’s taste, ascan be im-
agined.
His sunny nature soon attracted to him
thrée boon companions. Of these, Debney
Fair was from Seattle, State of Washing-
ton; Lee Stanford, from Portland, Oregon,
and Charlie Burr, from Tucson, Arizona.
Each lad was loyal to his own State, and
many more or less amiable disputes arose
between them.
The day before the commencement of Sel-
den’s second vacation the four lads were
lounging in a corner of the college campus,
actively engaged in laying their plans for
the impending holidays. During the conver-
sation a small boy brought Sel a letter from
the village post-office. Opening the envelope,
Bruce glanced hastily over the contents, and
then gave vent to a terrific whoop of joy, as
recorded at the commencement of this chap-
ter. What followed is known to the reader.
On reaching the platform of the tree-
.&branch rendezvous; Chunk saw at a glance
that the all-important letter bad been read.
He also knew by the happy expressions upon
his companion’s faces that the news was in-
deed to their liking. With curiosity greatly
augmented, he gasped:
CGrooD
‘*Enlighten him, Sel,’’ spoke up Deb, ‘‘or
the poor fellow will burst with suspense,
Chunk, you don’t know what is in store for
us. When you hear it it will make your fat
sides ooze tears of joy.”’
Sel waved the open letter in a tantalizing
manner before the youth for a moment;
then he said:
**Tt’s a note from my uncle, Chunk. I
won’t read it all, as it wouldn’t interest
you. Here is the part you’ll whoop at:
‘«* Knowing that your vacation is near at
hand, I have arranged a plan by which you
can enjoy yourself, and at the same time
combine information with pleasure. I have
purchased a new whale-back steam yacht of
moderate tonnage, which I propose to place
at your command during the months of
June, July and August. It is my wish that
you make an extended trip along the Pacific
coast from San Diego in the South to Alaska
in the North. If you have any friends that
you would like to accompany you, they can
have my permission. Further news will be
given you when you leave school to-mor-
row.’ ”’
‘¢¢*Tf you have any friends,’ he says,’’
cried Chunk, with a shrill chuckle. ‘‘Whoop!
if you have any friends? What’s the matter
with me, eh??’’
‘‘T haven’t decided about you,’’ laughed
Sel, with a wink at the others. ‘‘I intend to
take Deb and Charlie, but——”’
‘*Tt’s only a small yacht,’’ interrupted
young Fair, suggestively.
‘¢And Chunk weighed four tons on the
hay scales,’’? added Charlie Burr.
‘If you wish to go, it willbe only on one
condition,’’ continued Sel.
‘‘What’s that?’’? asked the stout boy, re-
signedly.
‘*You’ll have to roost upon the keel as
ballast. Ha! ha!’’
‘*Humph! you think you are funny. IT’ll
go in any capacity, and be glad of the
chance. Don’t I understand marine engin-
eering? Didn’t I learn it here? What’s the
matter with my shipping as engineer and
working my way, hey?’’
‘*That’s a rattling good idea, my boy,’’
replied Sel, seriously. ‘‘That remark has set
me to thinking. Both you and Charlie can
run engines, while Deb and I know some-
thing of navigation. Why, we’ll run the
yacht ourselves. It will be far better than
having a lot of men hanging around to boss
us.’’
The four boys remained silent for a mo-
ment, lost in wondering contemplation. of
the vista of delight thus opened up before
them. Finally Chunk heaved a _ prodigious
sigh, and broke the spell.
‘*Then you’ll take all of us?’’ he asked,
wistfully.
‘*Certainly. You don’t think that I could
enjoy myself alone, do you? It will be the
best vacation spent by any boys of the
Pacific slope.’’
‘*And we will call in at Portland?’’ asked
Chunk.
‘*And cruise
queried Deb.
‘*Yes; and sorry we’ll be that we can’t
take the yacht overland to Tucson to visit
Charlie’s people,’’ replied Sel, cheerily.
‘*We mustn’t waste much time at a slow
place like Portland,’’ insinuated Deb.
‘*What’s that???’ snorted the fat boy,
wrathfully ‘‘A slow place, eh? What’s the
matter with Seattle? Three houses and a
tent stuck on an iceberg—that’s your town,
you skinny shoe-string.’’
**Oh, quit your growling, or I’ll take the
trip myself,’’ chuckled Sel. Then he added,
seriously: ‘‘This letter puzzles me, boys.
You ‘have heard me speak of my Uncle
Joshua. He’s good and all that, but—but
he is about the last person I would expect
such an offer from. Uncle Joshua buying a
yacht for my use? Humph! wonders will
never cease,’’
‘*D-don’t tell him s0,’’ said Chunk,
eagerly, ‘‘or he might change his mind.”’
through Puget Sound?”’
CHAPTER II,
THE BIRTH OF THE GOOD NEWS CLUB,
HERE was a general laugh at Chunk’s
~2 cautionary suggestion, and Sel assured
\ him that he would not jeopardize
“<7 their chances by questioning his
uncle’s motive,
‘*Still,’? he added, thoughtfully, ‘‘it is
very surprising to me, Uncle Joshua has
never revealed much affection for me, nor
have we much use for each other. Fancy
him buying this yacht? I can’t get over it.”’
‘‘Perhaps he purchased it with some of
your money?’’ remarked Deb. ‘‘Isn’t he
your guardian?’’
‘‘In a way, yes,’? replied Sel, rather bit-
terly. ‘‘He is to look out for me until I am
of age; but as for money, I haven’t any.
Father left his whole. fortune to Uncle
Joshua.’’
‘‘That is strange,’’ said Charlie Burr,
with a look at the others. ‘‘I can’t under-
stand that.’’
‘*Nor can I, but it’s so, nevertheless,’’ re-
joined Sel, abruptly. ‘‘Come on, boys. We’ll|
take advantage of the offer and devote the}
'am pained to see such an utter lack of
next three months toa practical study-of
Pacific coast geography. You fellows will
‘‘W-w-hat is it, b-boys? For goodness’ | have to write home, won’t you?”?
sake, t-tell me.’’
All three nodded assent, but in such a
confident manner that it was evident they
expected little opposition from their parents.
A half-hour later Deb, Chunk and
were laboriously inditing epistles to their
respective fathers. Each asked for a tele-
graphic reply. On the second day following
they received the eagerly expected messages
giving’ consent to the proposed expedition,
The train running into San Francisco that
morning bore four very happy lads; happy
that school was over—happy that they were
free for several months, and uproariously
delighted at the prospect of unlimited fun
before them.
Shortly before the train reached the city
Chunk gave a wheezy chuckle. With him
this meant that he had made an important
discovery, or had stumbled upon a novel
idea. His companions glanced at his beam-
ing face expectantly.
‘‘Chums, we have. forgotten something,”’
he finally remarked.
‘*Well, what is it?’’ asked Deb.
‘*When people go a-touring like this, they
generally form a club, don’t they? Some-
thing with a rip-roaring good name that’ll
attract attention and make ’em _ well-
known.’’
‘tVeos,??
‘*Well, what’s the matter with our organ-
izing a traveling club?’’
‘‘That’s a fact,’’? quickly replied Sel.
‘*While we are about it, we may as well
have the thing in shipshape, so to speak. We
can select a title, have it worked into a flag
and fly it from the yacht.”’
‘*We haven’t much time to argue about a
name; so suppose each of us write a sugges-
tion upon a bit of paper and have the win-
ning one drawn from a hat,’’ said Charlie
Burr.
This plan was adopted at once. | When the
billets were prepared, Sel shock them about
in his cap, and told Chunk to select one,
The fat youth drew forth a paper and read
the legend:
‘GOOD NEWS.”’
‘“That’s my suggestion,’’ triumphantly
exclaimed Deb.
‘*No; it’s mine,’’ contended Charlie.
‘©You are both mistaken,’’ chimed in Sel.
‘‘T made that myself.’’
‘*You fellows make me weary,’’ scornfully
remarked Chunk. ‘‘They are the very words |
I wrote.’’
The four lads exchanged glances,
Each secured a paper, and each read aloud,
as with one voice: ‘‘Good News!’’
‘‘Well, this is certainly unanimous,’’
laughed Sel. ‘‘It’s moved and seconded and
carried and adopted that we hereby call
ourselves the ‘‘ ‘Good News’ Traveling Club
of the Pacific Coast.’’
‘‘There couldn’t be a better name,’’ re-
marked Deb. ‘‘It’s certainly well-known.
We’ll have the flag made, and I’ll wager a
bright, round dollar that we shall carry the |
banner into some queer situations before we
return to school.’’
How prophetic his words were neither the
speaker nor his young companions realized at
the time. If even Selden Bruce, with his
brave and manly heart, could have foreseen
the future, it is possible that he would have
refused his uncle’s offer.
After reaching the station, it was agreed
that Sel should go to his uncle’s office at
once, leaving the others to spend their time
sightseeing. A meeting was appointed at a
well-known restaurant for one o’clock that |
afternoon.
In a small, narrow building on one of the
down-town streets, leading off Market, the
lad found Joshua Bruce’s counting-room.
The appearance of the office, with its couple
of shabby desks and worn-out matting was
hardly suggestive of pee ter nor would
a casual spectator think that here could be
seen the headquarters of a wealthy import-
ing merchant.
Joshua Bruce certainly did not conduct
his business with a flourish of trumpets. His
trade with China and Japan was extensive
enough to make his name one of note on
’change, but he was seldom seen there,
neither did his office attract many callers,
Among his business associates he was set
down as being eccentire: Perhaps he was.
Selden found him at his desk engaged in
an animated conversation with a short,
heavy-set man wearing a dark beard, They
were so deeply engrossed that neither heard
the lad as he entered the door, Waiting a
moment in embarrassment, Sel coughed to
attract his uncle’s attention. The result was
peculiar.
The stranger wheeled around with a half-
stifled exclamation of fear, while Joshua
Bruce sprang to his feet, his face pale and
working with emotion, Before the innocent
cause of all this commotion could recover
from his surprise, the heavy-set man slipped
toward the door and disappeared down the
street.
‘‘What is the matter, uncle?’’ queried Sel.
‘¢ Are you ill?”’
The merchant’s sallow countenance rapidly
recovered its composure. Sinking, back into
his chair, he said, harshly:
‘*How many times I have told you to
knock before you enter a room, Selden. I
breeding in you, sir.”’
‘‘But this is a public office, uncle,’’ pro-
tested the lad, warmly. ‘‘I have been here
Charlie |
then |
they made a simultaneous grab for the cap. |
‘scores of times, and have never asked for
admission. Surely you——’’
‘‘Tut! tut! we will say no more about
it,’’ interrupted Mr. Bruce, tartly. ‘‘I sup-
pose you are here to inquire akout the yacht
mentioned in my letter of the twelfth in-
stant, eh?’’
| Sel’s face softened, and he replied, grate-
fully :
‘*Yes, Iam here for that purpose, Uncle
Joshua. It is awful good in you, purchasing
a craft for my pleasure. I—I cannot tell
you how much obliged I am.’’
‘*Hum! yes, no doubt. Are you going to
take the trip alone?’’
‘‘No, sir; I have three chums with me. [I
took advantage of the offer in your note,
and asked them to accompany me.’’
‘‘Three? That will add considerably to the
|expense. Couldn’t you get along with——’’
| ‘*We have arranged a plan, sir, by which
|the expense can be greatly reduced,’’
| eagerly interrupted Sel. ‘‘You know they
teach engineering at Shasta College. Two of
the boys understand marine engineering;
and another, named Debney Fair, and I
know navigation fairly well. We four can
|take charge of the yacht, thus doing away
| with at least three hundred dollars in
i Salaries.’
| While Sel had been speaking Joshua Bruce
|had hastily written a few words upon a
|scrap of paper; this he inclosed in an en-
| velope. Calling a clerk from a desk in one
|corner of the room, he gave him the note
with whispered instructions.
Instantly leaving the office, the messenger
{hurried to a near-by groggery, where he
{found the heayy-set man with the dark
|beard. The latter seized the merchant’s
| letter with feverish haste, and read the con-
tents, which were as follows:
‘‘The boy is Selden Bruce, my nephew.
Mark him well. Watch the door and follow
| him to the yacht; there you will find three
|other lads. All of them must be spotted by
you. Return to-night, usual place and
| hour.”’
While this peculiar incident was in pro-
gress, Sel and his uncle had continued their
conversation relative to the proposed outing.
Mr. Bruce expressed himself as well-pleased
with his nephew’s plan, and furthermore,
gave him permission to have a new flag
| made with the club’s adopted name,
| ‘*You can do as you think best in the
matter,’’ he added, with a show of cor-
diality. ‘‘The yacht is yours, for the time
| being. When you sail, you can either run
| South as far as San Diego, or else take the
| Northern trip first.’’
| ‘*Whichever you*think best, uncle,’’ duti-
| fully replied Sel.
‘*Settle it among you. I will exact one
‘condition, however. You must notify me
by telegraph of your arrival at every port
you touch, at the same time stating the
name of your next destination.’
Although thinking the arrangement rather
strange, the lad readily agreed, and after a
few further words, left for the restaurant
wherein he was to meet his chums. They
were there anxiously awaiting his arrival.
‘*It’s all right, fellows,’’ said Sel, saluting
them cheerily, ‘‘The yacht is ours for three
months. ’’
| ‘*Where is she?’’ eagerly asked Chunk.
‘*Can’t we board her at once?’’
‘*Yes; we are going to the dock now. She
is tied up ata wharf near the Union Iron
Works. If we make haste we may be able to
settle everything this afternoon. Uncle
Joshua says that we can take command and
run her ourselves.’?
‘*Bully!’? exclaimed Deb Fair, cutting a
pigeon-wing upon the sidewalk to the great
edification of several spectators.
Street cars were too slow for the four
boys, so they piled into a coach and were
driven to their destination at a rattling
speed. Unable to restrain his impatience to
see the craft, Chunk was out of the carriage
before it came to a stop. He was followed
by the others, and, at a distance, by @
heavy-set man with a dark beard and bright,
restless eyes.
CHAPTER III,
BREAKERS AHEAD.
HE boys found a crowd of interested
2 spectators upon the dock. They 4P-
peared to be watching a novel cra
* moored close by. One glance told Sel
and his companions that the object of thei!
attention was Joshua Bruce’s whale-back
yacht,
Forcing their way to the edge of the
wharf, the lads gazed in amazement at ty
vessel destined to be their home for the ne*
three months. Never in their experien?
had they seen such a unique pleasure boat,
‘‘Well, I declare!’ exclaimed Deb Fal;
?
‘‘Did you ever run across the beat of that?
“What is it??? gaped Charlie Bur?
‘‘That’s not a sea-going craft?’’ en
Chunk said nothing, but his wide oP
eyes and mouth explained his bewilderme
better than words could. Sel simply 8t?
and took in every detail of the vessel.
probably with various mental ejaculation®
A long cylindrical hull shaped like 4 OF
and pointed at both ends; three circy
iron turrets placed at equal distances Se og
each other along the curved deck; res
ot
Ca sek ee we OP
se FF ee —_
Si Ss SKE DMOt Mo nr
an;
and
Vcrwv ww
ee.
OW
ir
iS
0
re
>
id
t,
COO
on these a graceful, handsomely painted
cabin; a narrow, rakish funnel§ a staff aft
flying the Stars and Stripes, and a slender
pole forward—such was the whale-back.
Everything was new. The white sides of
the cylinder glistened in the afternoon sun.
The polished windows of the cabin reflected
the faces of the spectators. A cozy pilot-
house forward gave partial glimpses of a
well-fitted interior. A low-railed gallery ran
fore and aft; and several easy-chairs, placed |
carelessly here and there, gave evidence of
future comfort.
‘‘What’s the matter with that, hey?’’
finally chuckled the fat youth, rolling his
eyes with glee. ‘‘If she an’t a riproaring |
daisy, I'll eat my cap. Whoop! let me get
aboard.’’
His words broke the spell of admiration.
With a simultaneous rush, Deb, Charlie and
Chunk skipped across the gangway to the
curved iron deck of the yacht. Sel remained
on the dock for another view of the beauti-
ful craft.
Feeling a slight touch upon his arm, he
turned quickly. A heavy-set man with a
dark beard was standing at his elbow.
Something in the fellow’s face seemed
familiar, but for the moment Sel could not
place him.
‘Excuse me, but are you the owner of the
yacht?’’ asked the stranger, politely.
‘*No, sir; it belongs to my uncle, Joshua
Bruce,’’ replied the lad, eying his ques-
tioner narrowly.
Suddenly it,came back to him.
This was the gentleman he had seen in
conversation With the merchant, and who
had displayed such peculiar emotion on
being sel ited. Guite sure of the identifi-
cation, Sel added, coolly:
‘*You axe domPtless acquainted with him,
are you mot?’’
‘*‘No—10}-t-can’t say I am,’’ was the un-
expected reply. ‘‘Does he live in this city?’
‘Rather. He is an importing merchant,
and has his office on Sacramento street. You
know the place.’’
‘*T don’t ‘know the place,’’ retorted the
Stranger, with something very like a snarl.
‘*Why should I???
‘“‘T may be mistaken,’’ said Sel, slowly;
‘but if you do not know my uncle and his
Place of business your memory must be very
poor, that’s all.’’
Without attempting to answer this pointed
hint, the fellow turned on his heel and
Strode up the dock. Young Bruce watched
him with a puzzled expression for a moment,
then he started to cross the gang-plank lead-
ing aboard the yacht.
As he did so a doleful howl rent the air;
then immediately following came two
Shrieks of laughter, and another howl of
anguish. Glancing ahead, Sel caught sight
of Chunk, or rather half of him, projecting
from a small opening in the iron deck of the
Vessel,
‘Help! help!’? shouted the fat boy, |
Waving his aris frantically.
. ‘What in the duse is thé matter??? hur-
Tledly asked Sel, springing on board.
_Deb and Charlie were leaning against the
Side of a turret, convulsed with laughter.
16 former gasped:
‘Chunk was in a hurry to visit the—the
®ngine-room, and he tried to squeeze—Oh,
My !—he tried to squeeze down that hatch,
but his stomach was about five feet too big,
and he’s stuck. Ha! ha! ha!”’
‘My—my stomach an’t five feet too big,’’
hee’ up Stanford, indignantly. ‘‘This
W
amed hatch is about that much too small.
hat’s the matter with you, skinny. Lend
4 fellow a hand, won’t you? Don’t stand
®re like wrinkled mummies. Ouch! my
&ack-bone !??
tec dtching him by the shoulder, Sel at-
the pred to pull the unfortunate youth to
Bie deck, The others came to his aid, and
erent them they managed to lift Chunk
Yeral inches. The fat boy wriggled, an-
mi er tug was given, and just as success
aint certain, there was a sound of rending
oth, and the corpulent youth shot from
ht down the hatch.
of distant thud came to the startled ears
This. three companions, then all was still.
Think;
Jured,
nxious
ng that Chunk had been seriously in-
Sel leaned over the opening and
ly called his name.
from at’s the matter with you?’’ came
slow below, in muffled tones. ‘*You’re dead
gin up there. Come down and see this en-
©. She’s a daisy.”’
to ey relieved, the three boys prepared
farce into the engine-room, Deb disap-
hs down the ladder, but as Sel and
a lo 16 were on the point of following him,
turned hail came from the dock. They
oardi and saw a red-whiskered {rishman
Pilot-che the yacht. He was clothed in blue
tons. oth, and wore a cap with brass but-
a
asker’ yez th? owners of this craft?’’’ he
uy 2 2Uthoritatively.
cgnepresent the owner,’’ replied Sel.
“No. ce in commission yet, is she?’’
03 On askyn® will be before night. Why
tain i, Wish _to’see yer engineers and cap-
from, ;,,'@Plied the man, extracting a card
Tepresent ore ‘Oi am a walking delegate
av Uni ing the Amalgamated Association
Yer men: 20’ Oi wish to know whether
een are
: members; thot’s all.’’
l winked slyly at Charlie.
‘‘Are you a union man?’’ he asked the
lad, innocently.
‘*No, but I’m willing to be. Where do
you join??? ;
‘‘Phat d’ye mane, ye young rascals,
a-jokin’ me loike this?’’ interrupted the dele-
gate, angrily. ‘‘Oi wish to see yer captain
at once.”’
‘*You are looking at him now,’’ retorted
Sel. ‘‘And this is the first assistant engin-
eer,’’ indicating young Burr with a wave of
his hand.
‘*Phat! Kids loike yez running a stame
yacht!’’? howled the fellow. ‘‘Phat nonsense
is this, Oi want to know. If it be true, Oi’ll
see thot it is stopped. Spalpanes not out av
| short pants takin’ the bread out av men’s
mouths. Oi will stop it, or my name is not
Phelan Murphy. Where’s yer licenses, eh?’’
The last question caused Sel to stare
blankly at the speaker. Licenses? Up to the
present moment it had not occurred to him
that the United States Government required
engineers and commanders of steam vessels
to pass a regular examination.
This meant a certain term of experience
and an appearance before a Board of Ex-
aminers. lt would also mean either a long
delay or the shipment of regularly qualified
men. Neither of these were to the lad’s
liking. Something must be done at once.
‘*Ye don’t answer me,’’ triumphantly
added the delegate. ‘‘Oi guess yez are ina
box, eh? Yez don’t sail this craft widout
| licenses, moind thot. Oi’ll go now an’ spake
wid the inspector av the port. Ho! ho! Oi’ll
fix yez.’’
Hurriedly leaving the yacht, the Irishman
strode up the dock and disappeared in the
distance, leaving the taint of a bad cigar
and a very uneasy feeling behind him.
‘*By George! this is too bad!’’ exclaimed
Sel, shaking his fist after the fellow.
‘*What’s up?’’ queried Charlie. ‘‘You are
not afraid of that man, are you?”’
‘‘Afraid of him, no; but I have just
learned something from the fellow that’ll
upset all our plans. Do you know that we
nust secure licenses before we can sail?’’
Charlie’s face fell.
‘*By Jove! that’s so,’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘I
have an uncle in New York, an engineer,
and he had to get his papers before he could
go to work. It took him some time, too,’’
‘*We can’t wait. It will be better to hire
men.’’
‘That will: take half the pleasure from
the cruise,’’ said young Burr, disconsolately.
‘*] wish we could sail right out from here
before dark.’’
Sel suddenly gave an adjacent turret a re-
sounding slap with his hand.
‘*We’ll do it!’ he shouted. ‘‘Quick! call
the other fellows on deck. We'll hold a
council of war and see how it can be ar-
ranged. If there is any trouble uncle can
settle it.’’
A few moments later the four lads were
assenibled in the pilot-house. In the mean-
time Sel had sought out the watchman in
temporary charge of the yacht, and had
learned from him that both coal and stores
had been taken on board the day previous.
‘‘That settles it, fellows,’’ he said, de-
cisively. ‘‘It is now half-past two. If we
hustle we can secure a crew and be outward
bound before dark.’’
‘‘But that Irishman,’’ remarked Charlie.
‘*He’s liable to return before that.’’
Sel compressed his lips sternly.
‘*Tf he comes fooling around here he’ll get
hurt,’’ was the determined reply. ‘‘Deb,
you come with me. We’ll try and: get a
crew together. There are lots of sailors and
firemen out of a job along the wharves,
Charlie, you go below and start the fires
and get up steam.’’
‘*What’ll I do?’’ questioned Chunk, whose
broad face was shining with suppressed ex-
citement.
‘*You had better remain on deck and see
that Mr. Phelan Murphy and the Govern-
ment Inspectors keep their distance,’’ re-
plied Sel, moving toward the door.
‘““Hey! hold on!’’ shouted the fat boy.
‘‘Can’t I exchange places with Charlie?
What’s the matter with that, eh? I don’t
want to fight no Irishman, nor Uncle Sam,
either.’’
‘*Fix it between you,’’ replied the young
leader, hurriedly descending to the deck.
He was followed by Deb, and the two
walked rapidly toward a near-by dock, upon
which they had seen a knot of men.
On reaching the spot they noticed a group
of sturdy young fellows clad in the costumes
generally worn by mariners. There were
four of them, and they were lolling lazily
against a pile of freight,
‘‘Any men here wish to ship on a yacht
se a three months’ voyage?’’ called out
el.
A dozen men, including the four, wheeled
swiftly and approached the lads. Behind
them sauntered a quiet, respectably-dressed
man of about twenty-eight years of age.
From his appearance, he did not seem to be
a sailor, nor did he act as if he wished to
take advantage of the offer made by Sel.
‘‘T wish a crew of four firemen and three
sailors for a cruise along the Pacific coast,’’
continued the latter, in a _ business-like
manner. ‘‘I also need a cook and steward.”’
‘*When do you sail, boss?’? asked one of
the men.
‘Before dark at the very latest. The
yacht is that whale-back over there. The
NEWS.
4195
wages paid will be the same as given else-
where. ’’
Then Sel added, with a smile:
‘*Your money will be sure, as she belongs
to Joshua Bruce, the importing merchant.
He is well——?’
‘*Did you say you wanted a cook?’’ sud-
denly called out a voice from the crowd,
and the respectably-dressed man mentioned
above stepped forward. Deb, who was a
silent spectator, noticed that he was labor-
ing under an unwonted excitement, and
that his voice trembled as he spoke.
‘“‘Do you want a cook?’’ repeated the fel-
low, eagerly. ‘‘l ama steamship man, and
understand my business. I am out of work;
won’t you take me, please?’’
Sel looked him over, and was favorably
impressed by his appearance. He was on the
point of engaging him when a cry of alarm
came from Deb Fair.
‘*‘Look, Sel! we’re too late!’’? exclaimed
the lad. ‘‘That Irish delegate has returned
with his friends.”’
Hurriedly glancing toward the whale-back
yacht, Sel saw two carriages filled with
men dash up to the foot of the wharf. Sit-
ting with the driver, upon the first vehicle
was the representative of the Amalgamated
Association of Unions, Phelan Murphy!
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
a
{This Story wlil not be Published in Book-Form.]}
In the Days of the Gladiators;
OR
THE TWIN PRINCES OF BRITAIN,
——
BY ALFRED ARMITAGE,
Author of “With Crusader and Saracen.”
Stipes ili anasiil
{“IN THE DAYS OF THE GLADIATORS” was com-
menced in No.251. Back numbers Can be obtained
of all News Agents. }
——e———
CHAPTER XXXVI.
CONCLUSION.
Cry ARL hurriedly rejoined his compan-
de] ions, and calling Sempronus and
ar Hamo aside, he told them what he
had learned from the young Roman.
Sempronus communicated the news to the
rest, and after a short discussion it was de-
cided to make a bold and rapid push for the
Gate of Triumph, which was something over
a mile distant. Once outside the city it
would bea sure and easy step to reach the
mouth of the Tiber and seize the galleys.
So the harassed little band set their faces
again toward the heart of the conflagration,
and marched grimly for the goal. The
chance of escape was now very slim, and all
realized the fact. It was necessary to cross
the main part of the city, and here the
flames were raging in patches, as though
started at different points by incendiaries.
There was no trouble until the gladiators
drew near the Sacred, Way, from which
direction they had heard for some time a
wild uproar that denoted something unsual
to be taking place. As they emerged into
that imposing thoroughfare from a side
street they beheld what was perhaps the
most terlifying sight in Rome on that night
of horrors.
To the left the long stretch of the Sacred
Way was enveloped in a lurid glare, and on
one side of the street the fire had already
reached the houses, which were bursting
into flames, one after another.
The block next to the side street from
which the gladiators had come was lined
with the most gorgeous shops, and here a
mob of several thousand was wedged from
wall to wall, bawling and cursing, smashing
doors and windows, and laying ravenous
hands on all the valuable goods within
reach.
Without exception, this motley horde was
composed of slaves, a class which formed a
large part of Rome’s population at that
time. Here were Greeks and Gauls, Medes
and Parthians, Nubians and Scandinavians
—all the most vicious and degraded of their
race.
Evidently they had taken advantage of
the fire to escape and band together, but in-
stead of hastening to leave the city, pare &
had been tempted by greed to first enric
themselves. They were plundering without
apparent molestation, though now and then
some resolute show-owner who had defied
and threatened the mob was set upon and
slain. There was no trace of soldiers in the
neighborhood.
Sempronus and his comrades understood
the situation at a glance, and they tried to
cross the Sacred Way without observation.
They did not succeed, however. The mob
instantly saw and recognized the gladiators,
and were as quick to divine their purpose.
With one accord, the slaves turned from
their plundering and trailed on behind,
shouting and yelling like a pack of madmen.
It was .an ugly situation, but one that
could not be helped. The revolted slaves
were of little account for fighting, since less
than half of them were armed. Moreover,
the march of so large and noisy a body
through the city was almost certain to at-
tract some of the scattered bands of soldiers.
With a view to making the best of it,
Sempronus hurried back along the line, and
tried to quiet the rabble of uninvited fol-
lowers. But he could neither do that, nor
was he able to form them in any kind of
martial order.
With the compact ranks of the gladiators
in the lead, the shouting horde flowed on
toward the walls from street to street, ani-
mated solely by a resolve to escape, and
heedless of the hungry flames raging to
rigbt and left, of the scorching heat, the
stifling smoke and drifting sparks, the inces-
sant rumble and crash of talling buildings.
Numerous new recruits were picked up
along the way, until not less than three
thousand were in line. This fierce and clam-
orous horde inspired terror at every step,
and at sight of them the citizens fled for
their lives
Amid the panic and confusion, Sempronus
led the way with cool head and steady
nerves, while he kept a keen watch in all
directions. Jura was on his right, and Harl
and Hamo on the left.
Suddenly, down a cross street, the helmets
and breast-plates of a large body of soldiers
flashed in the red glare. A trumpet blared,
and they advanced on a run.
The gladiators and a large number of the
rest dashed safely by, and the furious charge
of the soldiers struck the rabble of slaves
about midway. The disorderly column was
broken in two, and the rear portion fled in
panic. The victorious soldiers pushed on at
the heels of the front half, killing without
merey, and making desperate efforts to
overtake the gladiators.
Sempronus and his comrades could see and
hear what was taking place, and they knew
that their only chance of escape lay in rapid
flight. When a narrow street was seen on
the right they swerved suddenly into it, and
as they dashed rapidly on they were sur-
prised to find that only forty or fifty of , the
slaves had followed them.
The otbers, more than a thousand strong,
had turned at bay, and were fighting des-
perately with the soldiers. Nothing more
fortunate could have happened for the
gladiators, and they took advantage of it
by turning from one street to another until
the sounds of strife were some distance off.
The handful of slaves in the rear melted
away one by one, and Sempronus and his
comrades were left to themselves. Faster and
faster they sped on, cheered by the knowl-
edge that their goal was comparatively close
at hand.
But presently they felt less hopeful. From
behind they heard trumpet blasts and the
clattering rush of armed men, The Imperial
Guards were still in hot pursuit.
Fifty yards in front a company of soldiers
suddenly barred the way. There was no
time to hesitate. With savage shouts the
gladiators bore down on the'foe. There was
a brief and desperate struggle, and a noisy
clash of arms; then the soldiers, outnum-
bered two to one, fled right and left, and
Sempronus and his band surged on over the
dead and dying, leaving half a score of their
brave comrades behind.
At the next corner they turned, and now
they found themselves in a broad but short
thoroughfare that was lined with splendid
residences. The few people who were trying
to save their property from the approaching
flames fled at once.
When the gladiators were half-way to the
end of the street the shouting soldiers poured
into it from the rear, and at the same mo-
ment a still larger force appeared in front,
with blowing of trumpets and clash of arms.
This meant destruction, for there was no
outlet,within reach. After their long and
hard struggle for freedom the brave little
band was doomed. Sullenly, and in grim
silence, they grouped themselves along the
wall of a garden that adjoined the magnifi-
cent palace of the Emperor Augustus, now
the home of a wealthy Roman citizen.
The wall was ten feet high, and studded
with sharp spikes on top. A massive iron
gate opened from it on the street, but the
furious assault of a dozen gladiators failed
to force the lock.
‘‘The fates are against us, comrades, and
we must die!’’ cried Sempronus. ‘‘ Better
thus than in the arena. Our blood will be
shed for the cause of liberty, and not to
amuse a cruel audience.’’
A hoarse murmur of defiance answered
this brave speech, and the array of swords
and bucklers flashed. None showed trace of
fear. Sempronus and Jura were in the front
rauk, and Harl and Hamo stood side by side
to the left.
Now the soldiers were advancing from
both directions, not in haste, but with the
confident tread of those who march to cer-
tain victory. Closer and closer came the
screaming trumpets, the masses of brass and
steel, the lines of savage faces.
‘‘Be ready, comrades,’’? muttered Sem-
pronus.
As he spoke, there was a grinding, creak-
ing noise at his shoulder, and the iron gate
of the wall turned inward on its hinges. —
“This way, quick!’’ cried a commanding
voice.
The amazed gladiators at once surged
through into the garden, and as the last
man entered the gate was slammed shut and
barred. From the farther side rang the
| shrill clamor of the baffled soldiers.
He who had thus saved the fugitives was
Ve
Tae
ie
if
At
peering iit
4196
GOOD
an elderly and plainly-attired man, with a
long gray beard.
‘‘Tarry not here,’’? he cried. ‘‘Hasten
across the garden, and ye will find another
gate. It isa long distance around for the
soldiers.’’
‘‘Were I the emperor you should share the
throne,’’ exclaimed Sempronus. ‘*‘ You have
saved our lives, good sir.”’
‘For which thank this lad,’’ replied the
stranger, laying his hand on Harl’s shoul-| ;
der. ‘‘He saved the Christian maid in the
arena, and purchased her treedom by yield-
ing his own. I am an uncle of Lucrece, and
the custodian of yonder palace. From the
window I saw your peril, and recognized
the lad among you.”’
There was no time for furthér speech, and
a clasp of the hand was all that Harl could
spare his benefactor. The gladiators dashed
across the garden, and a gate at the rear
end admitted them toa lonely street near
the Tiber.
They knew the locality now, and with the
cries of their pursuers ringing faintly behind
they hurried on through a couple of streets,
and fell savagely upon the handful of sol-
diers who were guarding. the Gate of Tri-
umph. It was a quick and easy ‘victory,
and in brief time the fugitives were scurry-
ing across the Field of Mars.
The glorious air of liberty gave fresh
strength to their wearied limbs, and for
hour after hour they pursued their way,
while the red glare of burning Rome grew
dimmer and dimmer behind them. In the
gray light of dawn they reached the Tiber’s
mouth, captured the galleys without resist-
ance, and impressed the rowers into their
own service. When the sun rose they were
far out to sea.
What befell the two young Britons after
that time cannot be related in detail, since
the records of the historians of that day are
meager and scant on the subject.
Of the three galleys, one steered north for
upper Italy, under the command of Sem-
pronus, and another, containing a mixed
crew, made off to the south with intent to
reach various foreign shores. Of the fate of
these two nothing is known.
Harl and Hamo went with the third
galley, which was commanded by Jura, and
held mostly Gauls. It made ‘a safe but
wearisome passage to the Gallic coast, and
from here their fellow gladiators must have
befriended the lads. It is certain, at all
events, that Harl and Hamo reached the
north coast of Gaul, in spite of numerous
perils, by the spring of the following year.
It is equally certain that they found a
way to cross the narrow strip of sea to their
native shores. The fragmentary record of
an ancient historian—a Roman official of
the province.of Britain—leaves no doubt on
that subject. ‘A literal translation of a por-
tion of this old Roman’s history of current
events is as follows:
**-So Almeric, who was a harsh king,
reigned over these northern tribes for a
time, and the wife of Gerphar took refuge
among friends still farther north, where she
did mourn unceasingly for her lost. sons.
But in the year after the burning of Rome
these lads marvelously found their way back
to Britain, and by the help of their mother
and her kindred they caused a revolt by
which Almeric was slain, and they two,
being twins, did justly rule the people in his
stead.’’
Here the ancient record ends, so far as
concerns that period, and the rest is but con-
jecture. It is likely, however, that the after
lives of Harland Hamo were fairly happy
and peaceful, since the Roman dominion of
Britain spread northward but slowly, and
even when the country was ‘entirely in their
grasp they permitted the native, kings and
chiefs to hold a limited rule ever their
people.
Perhaps our heroes married in time, and
had children, and if such was the case, as-
suredly these British youngsters listened
with eager interest to many a tale of their
fathers’ early adventures. Around the even-
ing fire they must have alternately thrilled
and trembled to hear how old Bludwin, the
High Priest, was baffled, how Boadicea died
for her country, how the luxurious Romans
lived and amused themselves in the days of
Nero, and how desperately the enslaved
gladiators struggled for liberty on the awful
night when Rome was in flames.
Long in their youthful minds must have
lived the memory of the characters, good
and bad, that figured in these true tales—of
Rufus Metullus, Quintus Sulla, Marcus
Galerius, Lars Tarquin, Lucrece, and all the
others who played a part in those stirring
times when Harl and Hamo were young.
[THE END. ]
———__-~+ 0 + —-
SLIGHTLY MIXED,
A small boy began his regular prayer in
his regular way:
*‘Now—I—lay—me——’’ and then he stuck
fast.
‘*Down,’’ said his mother, promptin
? os
him.
Whereupon Johnny started again, with
great alacrity and fluency:
‘‘Down came a blackbird and nipped off
her nose,’?’
To Do THINGS.
TM (ev C1,
EDITED BY DAVID PARKS.
esate prpagilinetact
fe i % S$ I have received quite a large num-
Wy S\C ber of requests to tell
2% HOW TO BECOME A CONTOR-
TIONIST,
I have interviewed a professional in the}
matter, and what he says is as follows:
‘‘Some people imagine that to be a con- |
tortionist one has to be ‘to the manner
born,’ and I have been asked questions that
prove that the outsider looks upon the con-
tortionist as a regular wonder. This is an |}
erroneous impression, which I will endeavor
to remove. Nature need not give you any
particular qualities to become a contortion-
ist. If you are an ordinary sized boy, you
have the qualities absolutely necessary. The
rest will depend upon yourself, your patience |
and perseverance. Some will acquire pro- |
ficiency in five or six months, while it will
take others two years and more to master |
everything. : Nail
‘* As in every other branch of gymnastics, |
constant and persistent practice is absolutely |
necessary. If you are out of practice, bend-
ing tires you, and leaves a soreness and stiff-
ness in all your limbs, but the gymnast who
practices well and constantly, need never
know what these things mean.
‘*Some persons think the contortionist is
compelled to sleep in oiled blankets, so that
his joints may be well greased, and there
are others who actually believe him entirely
boneless. Everybody is aware that the spine
is not a stiff bone, but composed of pieces
which are movable, and can be easily
placed and replaced in almost any position.
How little it is necessary to be an out-of-
the-way person to become a contortionist is |
proved by the fact that there are very |
clever female artists in the profession. But
as woman belongs to the weaker sex, she is |
not able to bear the strain as well and as |
long as man, and, therefore, she has been
obliged to remain in the background,
‘*T should like to give one piece of advice to
the beginner. Do not eat before the perform- |
ance, in order to keep yourself lithe and
alert. I should not advise any one to begin
bending after he is twenty years of age, as
after that time your bones naturally be- |
come stiff and settled. |
‘“The best time to begin parcticing con-
tortion is at the age of fifteen. If one begins |
before that time there is some danger of in-
juring the back. It. may not be strong |}
enough to stand the strain, although any
one of that age should be able to bend |
backward half-way to the floor.
‘*TIn all the German schools bending is one
of the most important parts of the exercises.
In both the French and German armies it is |
a daily exercise. We are far behind in that |
respect, the only bending that is practiced |
in our schools and gymnasiums being for- |
ward bending, and touching the toes with |
the hands.
‘*Tf you have an ambition to become what
[am often called, ‘an anatomical wonder,’
I can give you a few suggestions. But I tell |
you in advance that there is nothing won- |
derful in what I do, and any one who be-
gins at the right age and under the right
training; can do as well as I have done, pro-
vided he has the natural qualifications that
I have spoken of.
‘In tricks in contortionism there are
three distinct ways of bending—first, for-
ward bending, called posturing; second, side
bending or twisting; third, back bending.
My experience has been limited to two kinds
of bending, forward and back. But I soon
discovered that in order to become a finished
performer I would have to confine myself
to one kind only. I chose, therefore, the
back bending, as it is the prettiest, hardest
and most effective form of contortionism.
‘‘The leg exercise is about the easiest
trick acquired, and can be learned in a very
few weeks. The easiest way to learn it is by
lying on your stomach, take your right foot
in your right hand, and draw it up to touch
your head. With a little practice you will
find that in ashort time you can do this
with both feet. Then do the same thing
standing up.
‘‘The next trick consist of bending down,
touching the floor with the hand, and then
twisting the body ‘around sideways. The
trick is usually very effective.
‘‘Another trick is to balance a lighted
lamp upon your forehead and then bend
down slowly until you touch the floor. This
trick requires a great amount of practice in
order to get so steady that you can balance
the lamp safely without risking an explo-
sion. In practicing it is best at first to use
some article that rests securely on the fore-
head, and does not break if it should fall.
Begin by spreading your legs two feet
apart; then fold your arms, and bend down
slowly until you reach the floor. You will
find, in rising again, that you need all your
strength in order to come up slowly and
keep your lamp well balanced. This is one
of my best and most effective tricks. (I do
not advise my readers to attempt this trick,
as it is attended with too much danger,—
NEw S.
‘*The ground balance is the grand bend,
and consists of bending down and resting
the chest upon the ground while your feet
are on the ground, right in front of you.
This can only be done after months of prac-
tice.
‘¢An easy way to learn back bending is to
get down upon your knees, fold your arms,
and bend slowly until you touch the floor.
After that has been mastered, you must try
and draw your head under you until you
reach your feet. This will serve to limber
your back so as to enable you to accomplish
the most important positions which require
| closer bending.
‘‘There are a good many pretty tricks that
can be done with chairs. A simple one, only
requiring a little confidence and strength, is
to stand upon a chair and rest your calves
against the back of it. Have some strong
boy sit upon your feet, so as to keep from
overbalancing yourself, then fold your arms
and bend slowly until you reach the floor.
You can add to the finish of the trick by
picking up a handkerchief with your teeth.
It will take all your strength to raise your-
self from the floor.
‘‘Another pretty bend is to take two
chairs and place them about two feet apart.
Put one foot in the center of each one, then
bend down backward very steadily until
you reach the floor without using your
hands in any way. Raise yourself again
slowly until you stand erect upon the chairs
in your first position. It requires steady
nerves or else you lose your balance and
possibly alight on your head. Rising up
always requires your entire strength in all
these tricks.
‘*T have done the trick possibly five hun-
dred times with all my clothes on, including
collar, and have never missed it once; nor
have [ever had an accident. It requires
nothing but confidence in yourself.
‘*To accomplish the trick you will have to
begin by practicing on the floor without the
use of your hands. When you have mastered
that part of it you can try two low chairs,
and so on until you can use a regulation size
chair. You will find it an easy performance
when once thoroughly studied, just the same
as all branches of contortionism. You have
to know how to do them, and to practice
steadily and patiently.’’
——__ + o- _ _—_—_-
THE MYSTERY OF POST NO. 3.
dedi
HE moon was shining brightly, illumi-
og nating the sandy plain around the fort
st'\ as only the moon in Arizona can illu-
minate. The officers, soldiers, and
their families were peacefully sleeping. Not
| a sound was heard except the occasional cry
of a coyote.
Three o’clock struck, and the sentinel on
Post No. 1 started the call:
‘*No. 1, three o’clock, and all’s well.’?’
A slight pause, and No. 2 responded:
‘*No. 2, three o’clock, and all’s well.’’
Then came a long pause.
The sergeant of the guard stepped out of
the guard-room and listened.
‘The sentinel on No. 3 must be asleep,’’ he
remarked. ‘‘Bad business for a sentinel
guarding the corral.’’ ,
Turning to No. 1, he commanded:
“Start the call again.”’
No. 1 obeyed. No. 2 took it up. But there
again it ended. The sergeant turned out a
patrol, and marched to the corral.
As he approached the sentinel’s post in the
moonlight,- he saw the figure of No. 3
stretched out onthe ground. The position
did not look like that of a sleeping ‘man.
‘*Double time!’ commanded the sergeant.
And the patrol came down the post ata
run. As the men came closer to the figure,
a sight met their eyes that froze the blood
in their veins. Lying face down on the sand,
his hand still grasping his rifle, was their
comrade, still and cold in death, an Apache
arrow buried deep in his body. :
Three sharp cracks of the rifle, the rattle
of the long roll of the drum, soon brought
out the startled garrison.
Scouts were instantly sent out and the
plain thoroughly scoured, but no signs of
Indians could be found.
The next day, with muffled drums, the
members of the garrison followed the body
of their comrade to its last resting-place.
With uncovered heads, sorrowfully and
reverently, they listened while the post
chaplain read the burial service. The mili-
tary escort fired three rounds over the
grave, and the bugler played the sweetest of
all calls, ‘‘Taps—lights out—sleep.’’? Matur-
ally, a gloom was thrown over the whole
post.
The soldiers gathered in small groups and
discussed the perplexed question, ‘‘how
could it have been done?’’ The moon had
been shining brightly, and there was no
cover behind which an Indian could hide.
The searching parties came in after fruit-
less hunts. Night came on. There would be
no lack of vigilance on the part of the senti-
nel on Post No. 3. The moon was even
brighter than on the preceding night, and
the objects on the plain could be seen almost
as distinctly as in the daytime.
Each half-hour the call of No. 1 was
promptly answered by the other sentinels.
Few expected a repetition of the preced-
ie)§
ing night’s cowardly attack. Gradually the
| garrison became silent, and one by one the
| lights went out. Morning came, and nothing
| had happened to disturb the peace of the fort.
| Several days passed and the post settled
| down into its old ways, and the memory of
| the dreadful event was beginning to fade.
The officer of the day was making the in-
spection of the sentinels after midnight, and
was approaching No. 3, when the moon
burst forth, revealing at the very feet of the
officer the body of the sentinel as before,
pierced through by an Indian arrow.
The alarm was quickly given, but, in spite
of the most careful search, no trace of the
assassin could be found. A horror settled
over the post. No one dreaded an enemy
they knew, and could fight openly, but
against such ghostly attacks no one could
defend himself.
At officers’ call the next morning the
affair was earnestly discussed. It was evi-
dently wrong to require a sentinel to keep
watch in such an exposed and dangerous
place, and yet, with the corral where it
was, no one could see’ how it could be
avoided.
While discussing the problem an orderly
appeared and reported:
‘*Private Rogers would like to speak to
the commanding officer.’’
The commanding officer went into his
private office, and, after the interview, re-
turned to the room where the officers were
assembled.
‘*Young Rogers has asked permission to
take charge of Post No. 3 atalight until he
solves the mystery, and I hay@ yranted his
request.’’ 2
The faces of the officers 8h@Wed plainly
the anxiety they felt. YoumgymRogers was
the son of a brother captai their regi-
ment, who at that time was "“StatiOfied in an
Eastern city on recruiting service,
The young man had enlisted six months
previously, with the object of obtaining an
officer’s commission, which may be won by
a worthy and capable man.
The young fellow had gained the esteem
and respect of every one by his manly qual-
ities and strict obedience to orders. Many of
the officers had known him from his child-
hood. He had been the playmate of their
children, and a great favorite with all.
Later on many tried to persuade him to
withdraw his request.
‘*Take the post if it falls to your lot, but
don’t volunteer,’’ they pleaded.
It was of no use. The young man had a
theory, and if he proved it and discovered
the assassin he knew that he would get his
coveted commission.
He was excused from all duties during the
day, and after nightfall assumed charge of
the dreaded Post No. 3. Three nights passed
without any event. The moon, though on
Rogers to see any moving object on the
plain.
Seated on the ground, his back against
the corral, his rifle on his kuee, he was ap-
parently asleep. Apparently only, for his
sharp eyes keenly watched every point of
the plain. He knew that he had a tricky,
shrewd, but, at the same time, bold enemy
in that wily Apache. He felt sure that the
Indian, especially in the second case, had
not crept upon his victini unobserved. He
must have employed some disguise which
had completely deceived the sentinel. What
was this disguise?
““‘That Apache would be more apt to be-
tray himself if he thought me asleep than he
would if he saw I was watching him,’ was
his sound argument.
Through the long hours of the night he
sat motionless. It was two o’clock, when
suddenly he caught sight of a moving object
on the plain some distance away. Noise-
lessly, he cocked his rifle. He was a dead
shot, and woe to that object when he fired.
Nearer and nearer it came, while he sat as
if asleep.
‘‘Why, it is Corporal!’’? he suddenly ex-
claimed.
Corporal was a fine, large Newfoundland
dog, a pet of the garrison, which had mys-
teriously disappeared from the post some
time before, and which every one suppose
to have been stolen.
Rogers’ first impulse was to call the dog;
when he remembered his resolution—‘ ‘shoot
any moving object that comes withi0
range.’’ He therefore restrained his impulse,
and no one would have guessed that the ap-
parently sleeping sentinel was closely watch-
ing every movement as the dog approache@:
It was a lucky idea of Rogers to feig®
sleep, for as the dog came nearer he thought
he noticed something peculiar in its appeal
ance, and its actions did not seem quite
natural. d
‘‘Possibly Corporal may be exhauste
from hunger, or it may be the deceptiv®
light of the moon,’’ thought Rogers. 4
The dog was now within range, and b
could hesitate no longer. oy
‘‘Tt’s a matter of life and death,’’ he Té
flected, ‘‘and if I make a mistake every on”
even Corporal himself, will forgive me. hi
Slowly and imperceptibly he brought
rifle to his shoulder, a short, but true aly
a crack, and a yell—such as only an Apan re
who has received his death wound can 8!
—startled the whole garrison. the
As if by magic, every one collected 00 ®
spot, each, as he approached, evidently &
pecting to see a repetition of the tragedi&
the wane, was still bright enough to allow.
ra —_ AF
N
1e the
thing
2 fort.
ettled
ory of
de.
he in-
t, and
moon
of the
efore,
1 spite
yf the
settled
anemy
, but
could
g the
is evi-
o keep
yerous
ere it
ud be
rderly
eak to
to his
Ww, Te-
Ss were
sion to
ntil he
ed his
plainly
‘Ss was
r regi-
iin an
nonths
ing an
on by
esteem
y qual-
any of
; child-
yf their
th all.
nim_=«+to
ot, but
1 had a
sovered
get his
ing the
irge of
; passed
igh on
o allow,
on the
against
was ap-
for his
oint of
tricky,
| enemy
nat the
ise, had
ed. He
» which
What
t to be-
than he
n,?? was
night he
k, when
g object
Noise-
sa dead
he fired.
1e sat as
nly @xX-
undland
ad mys-
st some
supposed
the dog;
Git ‘shoot
within
impulse,
i he F
7 watcn-
roached:
to feig®
thought
appeal”
m Pauite
chausted
jeceptive
F and he
»” he re
ery oe
» Perate effort to keep afloat.
ie ee 3
The story was soon told. The skin of poor
Corporal had been used as a disguise by the
Apache, who, with a bow in hand, had been
creeping up on his third intended victim.
Deceived by the apparently sleeping sentinel,
he had been led to betray himself, and had
met a most merited death. Undoubtedly he
had, by the same device, deceived the other
sentinels, and had very nearly succeeded in
securing another scalp.
Young Rogers was overwhelmed with
congratulations. A special report was at
once made to the War Department, and be-
fore long he received as a reward his much-
coveted commission.
oe oe
[This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form, }
A ROOTLIGHT FAVORITE:
BORN TO BE AN ACTOR.
BY MANAGER HENRY ABBOT.
-+
[A FOOTLIGHT FAVORITE” was commenced in
No. 257. Back numbers can be obtained, of ail
News Agents.)
CHAPTER XIX.
MARK’S EXPERIENCES ON THE SUSQUEHANNA.
O one saw Lyle Quigg drop the mo-
tionless form of our hero into the
Susquehanna River, and _ conse-
quently no one came to the rescue.
Lyle Quigg thought Mark would never
come to his senses again, and consequently
he would be perfectly safe from detection.
‘*7?)] keep shady for a few days, and then
skip the town,’’ said the rascal to himself,
The motionless form floated under the
docks for a distance of several hundred feet,
and then the rush of the current carried it
almost out into mid-stream.
' With a gulp and a gasp, Mark came to
himself. By instinct more than reason, he
realized where he was, and struck out
blindly to keep himself afloat.
‘Tt was Lyle Quigg who struck me,’’ he
thought. ‘*‘How did that scamp drift away
out here?’’
But now was no time to think. It was the
extreme cold that had brought him around
SO quickly, and this same cold was now
causing his teeth to chatter.
‘*T’ll be frozen stiff in ten minutes more,’’
he muttered to himself. ‘‘I must strike out
for the shore.’’
Dazed and chilled as he was, Mark made
a brave effort to gain one of the docks
Which lined the broad river.
But his strokes could do little to counter-
act the strong current, and onward he swept
In the twilight of that early winter day.
At last he felt that he must give up. No
longer did his blood seem to circulate.
‘‘Help! help!’ he shouted, and repeated
the call half a dozen times.
is voice was so weak it could scarcely be
heard fifty feet away.
Fortunately, however, help was close at
and. said Marie Oldham.
‘*T guess he will know enough to keep out
‘*Four years in
e~
Tp.
‘“‘He was a shrewd rascal,’’ was Frank
‘tT wonder how he got
‘‘Perhaps the afternoon papers will give
> suggested Leroy.
But the stage manager was mistaken. The
escape was hushed up by the authorities,
and none of the company were able to learn
By the middle of the week Mark felt some-
what at home in Pittsburgh, and desiring to
see something of the many manufactures in
the place, he took a stroll around one bright
An actor named Graham was
with him, and together they walked farther
An hour later found Mark on his way to | than they intended.
He felt stiff and
cold, but otherwise the involuntary bath | iron district where the iron workers who
Without knowing it they got down in the
were on strike were collected.
‘*Rather bad-looking crowds around here,’’
observed Graham.
‘*T noticed it, too,’’ returned Mark. ‘‘But
I don’t believe they will do us any harm if
we mind our own business.’’
The two walked on for several squares
Then, on turning they ran plump
into half a dozen brawny workmen who
glared at them with evil eyes.
‘*Hold on there, you fellers!’? commanded
the leader of the gang, a man all of six feet
‘*Well, sir, what is it you wish?’’ asked
‘‘We want to know what’s your biz down
here?”?
‘‘We are merely taking in the sights of
Pittsburgh.’
‘“Takin’ in the sights, hey?’’ sneered an-
other of the gang.
‘*Yes,’? put in Graham. ‘‘We are actors
belonging to the Oldham Company, and we
The workmen looked at each other, and
‘Yer may be actors, but we think you’re
‘*So they are!’’ putin another. ‘‘Actors
‘*We are actors, whether you will believe
it or not,’’? said Mark. ‘‘Here is my card.’’
‘* And here is mine,’’ added Graham.
The workman glanced,at the bits of paste-
‘We was warned ter look out fer a couple
of spies,’’ said one.
‘*Yes, and these two men answer the de-
boys,’’ said the
leader. ‘‘I.guess this actor business is only
a dodge. They are up to all kinds of
wrinkles, you know.”’
‘*That’s so, Pete!’’
‘*Take ’em down ter Dolan’s!?’
**We can’t ‘afford ter take no risks!’?
The cries increased, and so did the crowd,
until there were a score of angry-looking
men gathered about Mark and his com-
panion.
‘*Come on now!’’» commanded the leader,
sharply.
‘‘Come on? Where to?’’ asked Graham,
and he turned slightly pale as he remem-
bered the numerous outrages that had been
committed by the strikers during the past
few days.
‘*Down to Dolan’s.’’
‘*What place is that?’’ asked Mark.
‘*The meetin’ place. Come on.’’
‘‘We may as well go along,’’ whispered
Mark. ‘‘If we try to resist, most likely we
will get our heads broken.’’
‘‘But—but they. may kill us!’’ faltered
Graham.
‘‘Not if we do the right thing. Come.’’
Surrounded by the angry strikers, the
pair marched along to the meeting place, a
miserable hall standing between two saloons.
They were marched inside, where an ex-
citing meeting was going on.
‘*Here comes Pete Haggerty with a couple
of spies!’’
‘/\ erless to make a movement toward
we avoiding the onrush of the strange
Canadian Indian.
The cry of the manvas he sprang toward
the young officer astonished the rest of the
onlookers so greatly that they had not the
presence of mind to interfere in what was
evidently an attempt to murder the young
sailor.
Was the Canadian Indian a paid assassin
of Tom Greer? If so, it seemed that the
scheme would succeed, from its very bold-
ness.
Jack stood like one trarsfixed, his hand
resting against the scuttle-butt to steady
himself. The night was a warm, pleasant
one, and his shirt was open at the neck,
laying bare a clean mark for the man’s long
knife.
As the Indian crossed the thirty or more
feet of yellow deck with cat-like, noiseless
bounds, he raised his glistening blade: to
plunge it into Jack’s resistless form.
Even cool-headed Captain Carroll was un-
able to lift a hand to save his young second
officer.
Park Owen clutched the spokes of the
Milkmaid’s wheel, with only the power to
watch the tragic scene.
Avis Carroll’s face was deathly pale; but,
for the life of her, she could not stir a
muscle.
A strange thing then happened.
Just as the hearts of all of Jack’s friends
—and Jack’s own heart, for that matter—
almost ceased to beat in the dreadful anx-
iety of the moment, the long knife blade
was lowered slowly instead of being driven
into the young officer’s breast.
The Indian ‘looked about him with a
staring, puzzled gleam in his steel-black
eyes,
‘*Saere, demon!’
One coppery hand was drawn across his
forehead, brushing away its matted hair.
COOD NEWS.
The man cast a quick, questioning glance
at Captain Carroll, Mr. Morse, Park and
the others.
His appearance was that of a person
awaking from some deep trance.
The vessel’s master was the first to be-
come himself.
‘‘Onto him, lads!’’ cried Captain Carroll,
recovering his voice.
Instantly the crew had possession of their
senses, even to Jack; though the part he
had played in the strange tableau had rather
unnerved him, despite his former dangerous
experiences.
The spell once removed, Jack dashed after
the athletic savage, who, whirling with the
quickness of thought, was at the rail where
the canoe was lashed.
The others reached the bulwarks with Jack.
Too late!
The Indian had dropped like a phantom
into his cranky craft, severed the line by
which it was towing with one quick slash of
the sharp knife he carried, and only a‘scorn-
ful laugh came back to the baffled party as
the diminutive cockleshell disappeared aft.
-Park, in his excitement, had allowed the
schooner to come up too far into the wind,
and now it would take too long to get the
vessel under way to give chase with her.
‘*Lower away the yawl boat!’’ cried Cap-
tain Carroll, loudly.
The men sprang to obey.
Mr. Morse, who went with the little craft,
carried one of the revolvers taken from Tom
Greer and his allies, cocked in his hand, as
the men pulled sharply away under the
hopeful gaze of those upon the Milkmaid’s
quarter-deck.
“Tf you see him, fire,’? was the stern
command from Captain Carroll.
‘“You may be very sure I'll do that!”’
came the answer from the gloom in which
the little craft was only an indistinct blotch
of black.
The next moment the flash of Mr. Morse’s
revolver was seen, and then the report
reached the schooner.
Avis gave a low cry.
The others waited in silence.
Captain Carroll motioned Park to put the
wheel to port, while he eased off the mizzen
sheet himself, and in a few moments the
schooner was again under steerage way.
Ten or twenty minutes later the yawl was
seen approaching.
‘Did you get him?’’? Captain Carroll
hailed his mate.
‘‘No, confound it!’
‘*Ah, I feared it would be useless to go
after the fellow.’’
When the’yawl was finally hoisted at the
davits, and the incident was being discussed
forward and aft, Mr. Morse ventured the
question:
‘Do you really think, after all, that the
strange chap wanted to board this craft?
The reason I ask,’’ he continued, ‘‘is this:
When he looked about, and really took us
all in, so to speak, he seemed to change
his mind very suddenly, as though we
weren’t the ship’s company,he was in search
of after all. T believe he thought this was
another vessel.”’
‘‘He hailed us to know if this was the
Milkmaid—or at least it sounded as if he
did,’’ said Captain Carroll, thoughtfully.
Jack was about to say the same.
‘‘Exactly,’? exclaimed Mr. Morse. ‘‘It
sounded as if he hailed us to know if this
was the Milkmaid: but you know what a
confounded jargon those fellows use. A
person can’t tell half what they mean by
listening to them.”’
‘They speak French, Indian and English,
all rolled into a language not like either one
of these tongues,’’ Captain Carroll admitted;
‘‘but I say again that he appeared to name
the schooner, and Blake, who answered
him, and the others think so, too.’’
‘¢7 am sure he called out her name,’’ said
Avis, confidently, though quietly.
Mr. Morse smiled at her earnestness.
‘*But bow do you explain his actions, then,
if this was the boat he wanted to board?’’
he asked.
This question was more than they could
answer, and there was a puzzled look upon
their faces, while they remained silent and
thoughtful.
Why, indeed, had the man not struck the
blow if this was the vessel he had waited
for there in the lake, at the risk of swamp-
ing his light canoe?
After the other strange experiences which
had beset the vessel upon that run, the little
party felt like connecting the visit of the
Indian with the general murderous conspir-
acies with which they had been forced to
deal.
And yet; no one could suggest any tangible
reason why this strange red man _ had
boarded them that night—especially as he
had departed without doing any mischief.
But, Jack felt that he had not seen the
last of the Canadian Indian, though he
could not come to the slightest conclusion as
to what was the part in his life-drama, the
strange man was then playing.
When Jack retired to his cabin, with his
brain filled with the queries and unnatural
confusion occasioned by the peculiar event
of that evéning, the following vision seemed
more like the second,sight of a clairvoyant
than like a dream.
Perhaps it was not a dream after all, but
a—what shall we call it?
At any rate, from a restless sleep, during
most of which Jack could hear the water as
it beat a little lullaby against the planks
near the head of his berth, he drifted into a
strange state of half-sleeping, half-waking.
Then the scene which was before his
mental vision slowly dissolved, and there
began to appear in its place a little attic
room which seemed uncommonly familiar to
him.
The little room had but one small window,
which was curtained with a bit of red
muslin.
There was a bed, a plain pine table and
an old sailor’s chest.
A woman sat on the chest—Nell Raymond!
But not the Nell Raymond that Jack had
parted from only a few weeks before.
Jack
and emaciated form with a pang of sympa-
thetic pain.
There was little trace in that pale, wan
face of the beauty it once possessed, and it
seemed to Jack as though he had _ to look
twice before he could recognize his bene-
factress.
But all of Nell Raymond’s kindness of
character was still there.
She smiled and nodded in a pleased and
kindly way as she read a long letter, or
paper, which she held to the light of an oil
lamp.
Then she folded it carefully.
Jack saw something else now for the first
time. The dog he had rescued from Dick
Stanhope’s cruel usage, was now a fat, con-
tented little animal, vastly changed since
Jack had last seen him.
Nell had treated the little animal kindly.
Then, upon looking at an envelope into
which Mrs. Raymond was carefully slipping
the long letter, or whatever document it
was, which she had been reading, Jack read
the words:
‘*Hor Mr. Jack Ferdham. Not to be opened
until after my death.
‘*Mrs. N. RAYMOND.
‘*Canal street, Buffalo, N. Y., July 28,
18—.’
Jack even recognized Nell Raymond’s
handwriting in the address and instructions
there written!
Mrs. Raymond rose slowly, when she had
closed the envelope, and tiptoed to the door
of the little room, where she paused with
her ear to the panel.
She appeared to be assured that all was
well..
With head erect she moved back toward
the center of the small apartment, with the
grace of a queen, and——
3ut the scene faded away!
Jack Ferdham, opening his eyes, found
himself sitting bolt upright in his berth,
trembling with excitement.
He closed his eyes and made every attempt
to compose himself again, so that the vision
might return: but, in vain!
The rest seemed lost to him forever.
His natural astonishment at seeing his
name upon the envelope with the other di-
rections, had awakened him from the spirit-
wandering, trance, or whatever else it might
be called, and there was no returning to the
mood.
Jack was not of a superstitious nature;
yet this peculiar supernatural experience
affected him greatly, and it was some time
again.
CHAPTER XXIX.
BUFFALO AGAIN.
AHE surprising visit of the Indian was
4y the subject for considerable earnes
\ conversation during the week follow-
“tH ing, as the Milkmaid proceeded 08
her course, without any further startling 12
cidents.
The friendship between Jack Ferdham and
Park Owen grew to be of the warmest, most
confidential nature, and the two boys were
always together when Jack was not in the
company. of pretty Avis Carroll.
ack,’’ Park said, confidingly, as ai”
were standing forward together, near
end of the run through the Detroit Rive
‘Ceverything, seems to be going your way:
With me, I must confess, it’s different.” f
Jack regarded him with an éxpressiov
friendly incredulity as he continued: | $
“Tye been thinking what folly it bi
been for me to secretly hope for 4 me
when Mrs. Raymond may be able to put B
in the way of getting a fabulous fortum)
and I don’t know what. You know how
fellow will build air castles from the slié
est foundation.’’ ; ‘oat
‘*Still, who knows but that there 15 4 oc
amount of solid gold coming to you?”’ #" 44.
cheerily interrupted. ‘‘And, if there ry
why, you’ll get along all right anybow: 4g
‘‘You know very well, old man, there
plenty of mystery about all this matte
suggest that vast fortunes are comp
fellow; but you also know that. the
thing stumps-us, too. The real cold fa
the matter is,’’ Park exclaimed, looking fp
over the water, ‘‘Iam blue because | j
hopelessly in ]—attached to a young g¥¥
i Why, what’s the matter, old fellow?
Rather flushed and disconcerted, the
muttered something about a twis
noticed the woman’s sunken cheeks -
later before he could doze and fall asleep
CBbes
5.)
cw
L!
id
aBe°*
A
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yk
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il
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the
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nce
ime
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was
nest
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muscles in his neck, and that it was ‘‘noth-
ing.’’? He also studiously scanned nothing in
the distance.
‘*] met her on the canal-boat,’’ Park con-
tinued, reassured.
For some reason or another Jack felt
strangely relieved.
Jack ran his arm through Park’s, and they
moved farther from some of the men gath-
ered by the fore-scuttle.
‘‘Tell me about it, old man,’’ he urged,
gently. :
‘¢She and her father were taking the canal
trip for its quiet novelty,’’ said Park. ‘‘He
was a very wealthy man. I rescued her from
the canal one day. He wanted to reward me
for it, but I wouldn’t listen to that. And
I—well, that’s all.”
So this was Jack’s new friend’s story !
Jack felt certain that Park had donea
brave act on the canal, and he was sorry
that it did not seem as though Park would
ever be rewarded for it.
Jack was of so happy and hopeful a dispo-
sition that Park’s case appealed particularly
to him.
He had not told Park, nor any one, for
that matter, of his strange dream, but now
that they were exchanging confidences, he
thought he would mention it merely as an
odd occurrence. ©
An interruption, however, prevented.
Jack was called to oversee some work aft;
and when this was finished the matter had
slipped from his mind.
Then, early in that same week, Buffalo
was neared.
Wow all those mysteries would be solved—
or at least it was likely that they would be.
The schooner had made an unusually short
passage, and Captain Carroll was pleased in
consequence. . :
George Jackson executed a lively pigeon-
wing, in anticipation of seeing his dusky
sweetheart, as the tug took the line and
started for the slip with the graceful vessel
in tow
Jack’s heart beat a trifle faster than it
was accustomed to upon these home-comings.
Avis hummed a song under her breath as
she stood smilingly aft by the wheel.
Half an hour later the trim schooner had
assed in behind the breakwater, and the
filkmaid was soon lying in a snug berth
near one of the great grain elevators.
‘‘Now, Mr. Ferdham, you may go ashore,
and take Owen with you,”’
‘Thank you, captain,’’? exclaimed Jack,
grateful that they should be let off so
early,
The street lamps had been lighted for
Some hours.
‘‘But you’ll be back to-night, won’t. you,
Jac ?’’ asked Avis, with ill-concealed anx-
lety,
He promised her that he would, and he
and Park hurried over the rail and along
the gloomy, poorly-lighted streets in eager
Silence.
‘Pll leave you here; run over and see if
the canal-boat is out of the dry dock yet;
Say how do you do to my folks, if they’re
here, and then join you,’’ Park stated, in
accordance with a plan before arranged.
The two friends parted.
As Jack hurried, on a woe-begone looking
0g scurrying hungrily about among some
ash-barrels, recalled his first meeting with
Dick Stanhope in that city a few weeks be-
ore,
He wondered to himself where Dick could
be, and whether Mr. Stanhope had the least
Suspicion as to the part the young fellow
ad played that night on Lake Erie, not so
very many days before.
ack was pretty certain that it was Dick
Who had knocked ‘him on the head and then
Pitched him over the Arrow’s rail.
‘Speak of the devil——’’ the young sailor
Muttered, suddenly.
i here, not twenty feet distant, under the
ight of a street lamp, stood the very person
of whom he had been thinking.
bh? Dick Stanhope, with yachting cap,
lue suit and all!
1S native meanness, too, was as prom-
pent in his face as before, and it caused
ack to give a sniff of honest, hearty con-
tempt.
oe
lit tell you it’s a good half-dollar, you
si tle ragamuffin,’? the yachtsman was in-
Sting. ‘‘Give me the change and get out!
ere, I can’t wait all night!”’
Sma Yer take me for, yer dude?’? the
itn newsgirl protested, stoutly. ‘‘I say
& 20 good. Gi’ me my paper back!”’
Here's this half.””
Wa s light; it’s greasy; it an’t no good.
Bin me pulled fer tryin’ ter shove it?
4°ve Pll’ yell for O’Tool, an’ have him
Pull yer: TW» )
- ou brat!??
dy Dick struck at the head of the small
stg ® child ducked, but that was unneces-
ripe gvith indignation, Jack had sprung
an tk
ward ly ae up the arm of the
8 news i 3
the Bavemene and bogus coin both fell to
Your”
Thie Started back in astonishment.
Was some days before he had thought
Y that the Milkmaid could enter Buf-
G
Jj
ack appeared ready to continue the de-
Mey
Goop
fense of the small paper-seller, yet he was |
not called on to do so.
Dick Stanhope turned on his heel and
hurried off without bandying words with
Jack, his face strangely agitated and drawn.
Indeed, Dick’s anger seemed to have given
place entirely to dismay and fear.
His pace was little short of a run, and he
muttered something nervously under his
breath as he hastened on, now and then
looking over his shoulder to see if Jack were
following.
CHAPTER XXX.
BAD NEWS.
Fy HEN Jack saw that the little news-
WYAY, girl was in the possession of her
paper once more, he, too, hurried
-e) on in the direction taken by Dick
Stanhope, as it led him to the corner where
Nell Raymond’s room was situated.
Suddenly something clammy and cold
struck him in the hand that he swung by his |
side, and he was nearly knocked into the
gutter by contact with a dark body.
Well knowing the manners of the charac-
ters of Canal street, Jack prepared for de-
fense.
But a surprise awaited him.
With a quick series of joyous whines, an
untidy-coated, muddy dog violently licked
his quickly relaxing fist, and madly pranced
up against and around him.
Dropping on his knees, Jack patted the
affectionate little animal warmly. 5
It was the forlorn dog he had noticed
scurrying about some minutes before, and,
though Jack had not recognized it then, he
saw now that it was the poor little fellow
he had rescued from Dick Stanhope’s cruelty
before he had left Buffalo that last time—
Nell’s dog!
The delight the little creature showed’ at
seeing his friend Jack again was particu-
larly pleasing to the young sailor, The wel-
come of the small animal was so sincere, so
honest.
When he at last quieted the impulsive
little creature somewhat, Jack moved on
with a light heart.
The dog led the way, delightedly.
Two blocks more of dirty, illy-smelling
streets, and Gaston’s saloon was reached,
with its usual quota of empty kegs outside
the door.
Jack passed directly around to the back
entrance of the building, and with a quickly
beating heart he entered the dark, narrow
hallway, with its uncarpeted floor,
At the top of the second flight of stairs |
the young officer stopped and felt his way
toward the door to the attic room, at whose
casement his canine companion persisted in
scratching madly, despite his words of re-
buke.
Jack knocked.
There was no response,
He knocked again, while the dog at his
feet gave a series of low whines.
Jack tried the latch with a feeling of dis-
appointment.
The door was locked.
‘*Nell’s out,’? he said, to himself, resign-
edly.
aorning. he began to retrace his steps.
The dog followed him after a moment’s
hesitation.
At the foot of the lower flight of stairs a
door opened into the rear of the saloon.
Entering the long, low apartment through
this door, Jack moved up to the end of the
bar, behind which stood Rita, a small, dark-
complexioned woman, who was what one
might call good-looking in her peculiar way.
Her hair, which was black as night, was
brushed back neatly and closely from her
forehead. There was a gaudily-colored ker-
chief tied about her neck.
She manifested no surprise at Jack’s ap-
pearance, but continued serving a customer
with slow poison, from one of the bottles
behind the bar.
A quick glance toward Jack, and a some-
what sinister smile of satisfaction, which
she concealed from him as she went to the
till, were the only signs she gave that she
had noticed his entrance; though she did not
hesitate to scowl darkly at the dog hugging
tremblingly to Jack’s heels.
‘‘I’ve just been up stairs. The door’s
locked. Do you know where Mrs. Raymond
has gone, and how long it will be before she
comes back?’’ Jack asked, with a slight nod
of recognition, as he approached the bar.
Rita, with difficulty, hid her real feelings
under what she meant to have him take asa
look of welcome.
‘*Know where she go?—how long she stay?
—humph!’’ and she shot a glance of intended
bewitching archness toward a lounger.
‘*Then she didn’t tell you?’’. said Jack,
turning slowly away.
The woman gave a coarse, heartless laugh.
‘“This here’s her youngster???’ queried
the man, who, since Jack had come in, had
regarded him with some little kindly in-
terest.
Upon Jack stopping suddenly, as though
he intended to demand more respect for the
woman who had done so much for him—as,
indeed, was bis determination—the barkeeper
made a poor attempt at simulating a sincere
regard for the unfortunate Nell witb drawn
lips and a general sadness of expression.
‘*Nell Raymond died ten day ago,’’ Rita
NEWS.
said, glancing toward the screen door at the
| back of the room with an illy-concealed
| glitter of satisfaction in her small, dark
eyes. ‘‘She dead and bury.”’
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
HAL’S ORPHANS.
eelcaeaedarinanad
BY HENRY CLARKE.
eee cctis
FPR AKE good care of yourself, my boy,
? and I’ll be back with you by noon to-
morrow.’?
B So spoke Hal’s father, as he stepped
out of the door of his little shanty.
Although it was the middle of April, the
snow still lay several feet deep in the
Adirondack woods; but a strong crust made
easy walking with snow-shoes,
Mr. Benton dragged behind him a stout
hand-sled, and on his shoulder he carried
Hal’s light rifle, which the boy had urged
him to take on the chance of coming across
a ‘‘drummer’’ grouse.
Hal was a.strong, active fellow of sixteen,
but as he stood in the doorway and watched
the figure disappear among the trees he
could not suppress a feeling of loneliness,
supplies to the lumber company’s supply
station, which was twelve miles distant
through the woods.
The gang of Canadian lumbermen, who,
as a rule, made their headquarters at the
shanty of which Mr. Benton had charge, a
week before had gone down the river with a
raft of logs, and it would be some days be-
fore they returned.
This was the first time Hal had known the
sensation of being alone in, the wilderness,
and he did not quite enjoy it.
There was a certain solitude and stillness
about the winter woods which awed him, for
Hal had been bred a city boy, and it was
| only two years since his failing health had
compelled Mr. Benton to live among the
evergreen forests of the Adirondacks.
When his father was quite out of sight,
Hal began to busy himself in getting ready
a supply of firewood. 4
He found a dead, standing tree, and chop-
ping it down, began to cut it into the proper
| length for the fire-place.
In order to find just the kind of wood he
| wanted, he had walked perhaps half a mile
from the shanty.
He spent several hours in this way, and as
the early twilight was coming on, began to
pile his wood on asled in order to drag it
home.
While he was so occupied, he heard a
slight scratching noise.
After listening for a few minutes, he
made up his mind that it came from a large,
hollow log, near which he had been working.
Going up to the log, he struck half a
dozen blows into it with his ax; there fol-
lowed a great scratching about, and then
perfect quiet.
Hal came to the conclusion that he had
found a raccoon, and determined to cut him
out. .
Going to the hollow end of the log, he
stuffed it with pieces of wood so as to pre-
vent any escape in that way; he noticed
that a beaten track led into the big log, but
it was now too dark to distinguish the
different footprints in the hard snow.
Five minutes of brisk chopping cut through
the log, and Hal saw a black mass of fur
curled up in the hollow.
Two bright, beady eyes looked out at him
stupidly, but’ there was no snarling and
showing of teeth.
‘‘Decidedly,’? thought Hal, ‘‘this is no
raccoon.’’
As he was watching it, the black ball of
fur uncurled itself and crawled out of the
hole. -
It was a bear cub!
The cub had no sooner gotten well out
than another followed it. :
The little fellows had made their appear-
ance in the world much too early for their
own comfort; they seemed to be numbed
and stupid with the cold.
Instead of trying to get away, the cubs
tottered toward Hal, as if to ask for protec-
tion.
The boy’s first impulse had been to kill
them with his ax, but their helplessness
touched him with pity, and he decided to
take them back to the shanty.
Hal threw part of his load of wood off his
sled, and making a hollow in the center of
the remainder, put the cubs into it and
pulled them home.
It was now quite dark, and reaching the
shanty, he lit the lamps, made a great fire,
and began preparations for supper.
The warmth seemed to revive the cubs,
Hal stirred up some corn-meal with warm
water, and they made a hearty supper,
grunting and pushing each other about like
two small pigs.
His new pets made Hal forget his loneli-
ness, and, when he finished bis own supper,
he sat for a long time watching them roll
about on the floor in their clumsy attempts
to play.
But after a time, Hal, as well as the cubs,
, Showed signs of being sleepy, and so he ar-
jranged a straw bed for them, in which they
contentedly curled themselves,
Mr. Benton had gone for their monthly |
4199
Then, barring the door, putting out the
lights, and piling on the hearth some great
logs to keep the fire till morning, he crawled
into his own bunk, and was soon fast asleep.
As it was growing light next morning, he
was awakened by the whining of the cubs.
Both of them were at the crack of the
door, whining and scratching.
As Hal lay watching them, he was startied
by what seemed to be an answering whine
from outside the door.
There was only one window—a large, low
one, near the door. é
Throwing on his clothes, Hal went to this
and looked cautiously out.
Before the door, whimpering and scratch-
ing at the logs, stood a large she-bear.
The mother of the cubs had followed them,
guided by her keen sense of smell.
Hal knew that an old bear with cubs was
not a creature to be safely trifled with.
He began to wish that his pets were back
in their hollow log.
Still, there was not a great deal of danger,
for the door was strong.
It was the window that gave the boy the
most uneasiness.
If the old bear should notice it, there was
not much reason why she should not break
through.
There seemed to be no way of barricading
the window from the inside.
Hal thought with longing of the rifle his
father carried; but there was no use wish-
ing, for he was without a fire-arm.
In the meantime the old bear had given
up her attacks on the logs, and lay sullenly
watching the door.
If she had moved off far enough for Hal
to pitch out the cubs and close the door be-
fore the outraged mother could reach him,
he would gladly have done so; but her nose
was not two feet from the door.
At any rate, his father would be back by
noon, and Hal meant to spend as cheerful a
morning as possible.
He got his breakfast ready, and gave the
cubs another basin of corn-meal.
They seemed to forget the presence of the
old bear, and played about the floor.
So the morning wore away.
Noon came, but no Mr. Benton.
Hal got dinner for himself and the cubs.
It was not as cheerful or as varied a din-
ner as he had looked forward to enjoying
with his father, yet bis company was unique
enough to make up for some sameness in the
bill of fare.
About two in the afternoon, the old bear,
who had kept very quiet after her first
futile attempt at breaking down the door,
began to whine again.
Hal looked out the window, and, to his
dismay, saw that she had been joined by
another bear.
The new-comer, from its greater size and
heavy build, was evidently an old male—the
head of the family.
The two held a kind of conference, and
exchanged many growls and whines.
The cubs heard them, and, in spite of all
Hal’s endeavors to quiet them, began to
whine in answer.
The two bears had evidently decided on a
course of action, for the male, raising him-
self on his hind legs, began to make the
rounds of the shanty.
Hal could hear the animal’s claws scratch-
ing the logs as he felt his way along.
In a few moments he reached the window,
and, as his weight fell against it, the entire
sash gave way, and fell into the room.
The cubs whined loudly, and the old bear,
thrusting in his head, in which his little eyes
gleamed fiercely, began to clamber in.
| Hal’s ax lay on the floor, and catching it
up, he struck with all his force at the brute’s
huge head. But the blow had not been very
well aimed, and the ax glanced off as if the
bear’s skull were made of steel.
Bruin set up a howl of rage. He had
nearly succeeded in making his way in.
Hal again raised the ax, knowing that his
life depended on this blow.
This time he struck right back of the ears,
and the blow was a fatal one.
The bear made a convulsive plunge, and
fell into the shanty, but be was past doing
harm, and lay quite still, a shaggy mass on
the floor.
Hal raised his ax once more, expecting to
see the head of the mother-bear appear at
the window. But his courage was not again
to be tested.
A rifle-shot rang out, and in a moment
his father’s voice called him to open the
door.
The cubs grew up to be the pets of the
lumber camp. The large bear-skin rugs,
which Hal keeps as trophies of his adven-
ture, also serve to remind him of two prom-
ises he has made to himself—one is to keep
a fire-arm by him while in the woods; the
other, never again to adopt bear cubs until
he is sure that they are orphans.
Sitesi as aS aes a eas ee
Sarp a son to his father, who had asked
him what positiog he held in his class:
‘‘Oh, pa, I’ve got a much better place
than I had last quv>rter.’’
‘‘TIndeed! Wel! vhere are you?”’
‘*T’m fourteenth.’’
‘¢Fourteenth, you little lazy-bones! You
were eighth last term. Do you call that -
better place?’’
‘‘Yes, sir; it’s nearer the fire.’’
os
arises t
Ss ae oa
i
j
a
i
ISSUED WEEKLY,
NEW YORK, MAY 18, 1895.
Terms to Good News Mail Subscribers:
(POSTAGE FREER.)
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Goop NEws AnD N. Y. WEEKLY, both, one year, $4.50
How v0 SEND Monery.—By post-oflice or express
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at our risk. At your own risk, if sent by postal note,
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label denotes when your subscription expires. All
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by proper change of number on your label. If not cor
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To CLUB RatsEns.—Upon request we will send sam-
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4GENTS.—Our responsibility for remittances applies
oily to such as are sent to us direct, and we will not
gnarantee the reliability of any subscription agency
¢(r postinaster.
All letters should be addressed to
STREET & SMITEIVS GOOD NEWS,
27 & 29 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.
SERIAL STORIES.
“The Copper Disk,” by Enrique H.
Lewis.
“Jungles and Traitors,” by William Mur-
ray Graydon.
The aa oe King,” by Harry Danger-
eld,
“A Footlight Favorite,” by Manager Henry
Abbot.
“Jack Ferdham, Second Mate,” by Clarence
Converse.
“Little Snap,,” by Victor St. Clair.
“In the Days of the Gladiators,” by Alfred
Armitage.
“Fresh Frank,” by **Joe.”?
SHORT STORIES.
“‘Hal’s Orphans,” by Henry Clarke.
“Our Maple-Sugar Boiling,” by Max Ad-
eler.
“That Horrid Brother,” by Paul Pry.
“The Mystery of Post No. 3.”
“Parkyn’s Wonderful Cipher,” by W. E.
Cule.
REGULAR DEPARTMENTS.
‘Short Talks With the Boys,’ by Arthur
Sewall.
“How to Do Things,” by Dayid Parks.
*“Ticklets,” by Chas. W. Foster. ©
“Mail Bag,” “dixchange Department,”
“Club Notices,” ete,
ANNOUNCEMENT!
There is a tremendous craze just now for
everything that has to do with NapoxEon,
and as Tue Kiva or Boys’ Wexxuies is
Auways Up To Darr, we have had written
asplendid story of the times of Napoleon,
telling the stirring adventures of a brave
and witty boy at the Imperial court and
upon the battle-field. This great story will
be begun week after next.
—— +
We shall publish during the summer
some of the best stories ever contained in
Goop News, and that is saying a good deal,
don’t you think so, boys?
——_—_..—1
A JAPANESE CUSTOM.
The custom of adoption is universal in
Japan, where it is.practiced to keep a fam-
ily name from becoming extinct. Indeed,
there is scarcely a family in which it has
not at some time or other been practiced.
A person who has no male issue adopts a
son, and if he has a daughter, often gives
her to him in marriage. A youth, or evena
child, who may be the head of a family,
often adopts, on the point of dying, a son
sometimes older than himself to succeed
him,
OUR MAPLE-SUGAR BOILING.
BY MAX ADELER.
Fr HEN I bought my present place
Qe fo the former owner offered as one of
vv the inducements to purchase, the
fact that there was a superb
sugar-maple tree in the garden. It wasa
noble tree, and I made up my mind that I
would tap it some day and manufacture
some sugar. However, I never did so until
this year. But afew weeks ago I concluded
to draw the sap, and to have what Judge
Pitman calls ‘‘a sugar b’ilin’.”? My wife’s
uncle was staying with us, and after in-
on
sugar, he and I got to work. Wetooka
huge wash-kettle down into the yard, and
piled some wood beneath it, and then we
brought out a couple of buckets to catch the
sap, and an auger with which to bore a hole
in the tree. My wife’s uncle said that the
bucket ought to be set about three feet from
the treé, as the sap would spurt right out
with a good deal of force, and it would be
a pity to waste any of it. :
Then he lighted the fire while I bored the
hole about four inches deep. When I took
the auger out the sap did not follow, but my
wife’s uncle said what it wanted was a little
time, and so, while we waited, he put a
fresh armful of wood on the fire. We waited
half an hour, and as the sap didn’t come I
concluded that the hole was not deep enough;
'so I began boring again; but I bored too
far, for the auger went clear through the
tree and penetrated the back of my wife’s
uncle, who was leaning up against the trunk
trying to light his pipe. He jumped nearly
forty feet, and I had to mend him up with
court plaster. :
Then he said he thought the reason the
sap didn’t come was that there ought to be
a kind of a spigot in the hole so as to let it
run off. We got the wooden spigot from the
vinegar-barrel in the cellar and inserted it.
Then, as the sap did not come, my wife’s
uncle said he thought the spigot must be
jammed in so tight that it choked the flow;
and while I tried to push it out, he fed the
fire with some kindling wood. As the spigot
could not be budged with a hammer, | con-
cluded to bore it out with the auger, and
meanwhile my wife’s uncle stirred the fire,
Then the auger broke off short in the hole,
and I had to go half. a mile to the hardware
store to get another one. Then I bored a
fresh hole, and although the sap would not
come, the company did, and they examined
with much interest that kettle, which was
now red-hot, and which my wife’s uncle was
trying to lift off the fire with the hay-fork.
As the sap still refused to come, I went over
for Pitman to tell me how to make that ex-
asperating tree disgorge. When he arrived
he looked at the hole, then at the spigot,
then at the kettle, and then at the tree.
Then, turning to me with a mournful face,
he said:
‘¢Adeler, you have had a good deal of
trouble. in your life, an’ it’s done you good.
It’s made a man of you. This world is full
of sorrow, but we must bear it without
grumblin’, You know that, of course. Con-
sequently, now that I’ve some bad news to
break to you, I feel’s if the shock won’t
knock you endways, but’ll be received with
patient resignation. I say I hope you won’t
break down and give way to your feelin’s
when ‘I tell you that that there tree is no
sugar-maple at all! Grashus! why that’s a
black hickory! It is, indeed, and you might
as well bore for maple-sugar in the side of a
telegruph pole!’’
Then the company went home, and my
wife’s uncle said he had an engagement with
a man in Wilmington, which he must keep
right off. I took the kettle up to the house,
but as it was burned out I sold it next day
for fifteen cents for old iron; and bought a
new one for twelve dollars. I think now
maybe it’s better to buy your maple-sugar.
— $4
BUYING A MUSTACHE,
The law of contract in Gérmany is evi-
dently precise upon offer and acceptance. A
beardless youth at Essen addressed another,
who was bearded like the pard, with the
words:
‘*T would give fifty marks for your mus-
tache!’’
Whereupon the hirsute one snipped off the
coveted hairs, and presenting them to his
companion, demanded the fifty marks. On
his refusal to pay he sued him, and gota
verdict for the sum named.
The case should have been defended on
the ground that the defendant had no bene-
fit from the performance of the contract,
seeing that the plaintiff had not gone to the
root of the matter—or, at any rate; the root
of the mustache.
Ol OP
HOW HE KNEW.
Mr. 'Pedagogs—‘‘Benny Bloobumper, how
do we know that the moon is two hundred
and forty thousand miles distant from the
earth?’’
Benny (alarmed at the teacher’s manner)
—‘*Y-Y-You said so yourself, sir.’’
GooD NEwWSsB.
viting some friends to come and eat the |
if ay
BHHORT PALKS ===
‘With {HE Bors.
EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL.
Leads
F.C. 8., Green Bay, Wis., writes: ‘‘Will you
| please answer in ‘Short Talks for Boys’ the fol-
lowing: I am 19 years old, 5 feet 8 inches high
and weigh 170 pounds. Is that the average
height and weight for a boy of my age? I have
graduated from a business college and am now
in theemploy of my father as head book-keeper,
but am not entirely satisfied. I think later on
| | would like a commercial life, but at present I
think [ would prefer to be a commercial trav-
eler for some wholesale house, or to accept an
agency for something, and then I would havea
chance to travel and see the world a little.
There is nothing I like better than traveling,
What would you advise me to do? Also, what
do you think of my writing?’
To become a commercial traveler for a
wholesale house you would first have to
enter the employ of that house in some other
capacity and learn the business. Then, as
your employers discovered your ambition
and your value, you would probably in time
be sent ‘‘on the road.’?
From the moment you enter such a house,
you should keep your eye upon the desired
object. Watch narrowly how everything
is done, and do not settle down into a
human machine. Take every opportunity of
studying the methods of the salesmen with
their customers who may come to the store,
notice how they handle them and the suc-
cess that follows from the policy adopted.
When one begins to serve, he should decide
upon his policy for after life, and as this con-
stitutes the hub of his future universe, it
requires careful attention. Many people
labor under the false impression that any
one can sell goods to people who come to
buy. ‘‘There they are with the prices
marked upon them,’’ they say. ‘‘All one
has to do is to show them to the customers
as they come in, mention the price, and
take the money.’’
A greater mistake than this was never
made. The much-desired art of a good sales-
man is by no means a common commodity.
It is sometimes said salesmen are born, and
not made; but this we do not believe, ex-
cept in so far as it can be said of every
other enviable character in life, and we
cannot afford to flounder in the Slough of
Despond in the fear that we were not born
with talents which we should rather make it
our life’s object to develop.
In ‘the modern game of business, skill is
the principal factor; but this is’ not of the
fingers, but of the mind, in perceiving a
public want and finding out the best means
of supplying it. Not even culture and
natural endowments will insure this business
skill, and even capital is but an item, and,
as experience shows, by no means, so im-
portant a one as this quality. Every day,
modern business developes more and more
into a science, and every day, there is more
and more of this latter element in success,
and less and less of chance and luck.
One word of warning. Do not suppose for
an instant that because you are fond of
traveling you would make a good commer-
cial traveler. That has nothing to do with
the matter, and, moreover, within a very
short time, you would get to detest the sight
of a railway.
You are somewhat above the average in
height, and much above in weight. You
write an excellent business hand.
Docror, New York city, writes: “I am 17
years old, 5 feet 6 inches in height and a grad-
uate of the New York publie schools. I woulda
like to become a physician and surgeon, espec-
ially a surgeon, as I am very fond of surgery. I
have the promise.of a man that he will put me
through the New York Medical University if I
pass the examination, Wili you please inform
me where there is some free institution where
I conld learn Latin (day or night school, or
both)? How long would IT have to study, and
what studies should I take up now s0 as to pre-
pare wyself? In my leisure moments I in-
vented what I consider a perpetual motion ma-
chine, but the only thing that wont work on it
is the wooden balls. I cannot think of a regu-
lator to keep them from rushing down all to-
gether. The balls fall on the wheel like water
on a mill-wheel and are elevated back, but I
must hold my hand on the balls to keep them
from falling on the wheel.”
There is no nobler profession than that of
physician and surgeon, and we strongly ap-
prove of your selection. That you are natur-
ally fond of surgery is half the battle, and
you are. fortunate to have found a friend to
aid you to accomplish your desire. Latin is
taught in the high schools of this city, and
we think there is an evening class in Latin
connected with the Young Men’s Christian
Association. It would not be very difficult,
however, for a bright boy to learn Latin by
himself. Latin is not like one cf the living
languages where the pronunciation cannot
be learned from books. First study the gram-
mar thoroughly, then take up a course of
reading consisting of Atsop’s Fables, Viri
Rome, a few books of Cesar, and some of
Cicero’s Orations, This would give you as
much Latin as you need in the practice of
your profession. How long it would take
you to prepare yourself depends entirely
upon your ability and application.
We fear we cannot give you much en-
couragement in regard to your perpetual
motion machine. Men have spent their lives
and their fortunes in attempting to solve
the problem, and the secret of perpetul mo-
tion is as far from discovery as ever.
“JACK,” Tracy, Minn., writes: “What would
you advise a boy of 17 years of age to do, who,
being a fair magician, received an offer from a
show company of $7 per week and expenses to
join them in June. Am at present working in
a hotel and inthe theater; have all magical
goods of my own, so expenses would be light.’
Asarule, we do not think life with a
‘‘show’? is a very good one for a boy, but
if the manager is a reputable one, we do
not see any objections to your accepting the
position offered you for a time, and seeing
how you like it. You must possess decided
ability as a magician to have received such
an offer, and, if you can become a first-class
conjurer, the life is not an unpleasant one,
and is very profitable.
We always try to avoid anything like
preaching in these chats with our boys, but
at the same time, we beg you to remember
that a public life is one full of temptations,
and the habits formed at your age are apt
to be lifelong. If you decide to accept this
position, we beg of you to be careful in
choosing your associates, and make it a rule
to leave all stimulants alone. If you do this,
the experience gained will be profitable,
even though you finally determine not to
make conjuring a profession.
A. M., New York city, writes: “I would like
you to give me a little advice. In the street
where I live there are a number of boys who
annoy me, and I would like to know what to
do. When I ain going home and pass them,
they throw stones, sticks and anything they
have atme. As there are too many of them for
me to do anything, { walk on after getting hit.
When there are only two or three of them they
don’t do anything. If Isee one of them alone
that hit me and whip him (which I can do), the
next time they see me I[ get clouded.’
Your case is certainly a disagreeable one,
and it is most outrageous for a number of
boys to make a systematic attack upon one.
They deserve to be severely punished for
their cruelty and cowardice, and we are
glad that you have been able to teach some
of them separately a lesson.
We should advise you to take no notice
whatever of them, and, if they then con-
tinue their annoyance, appeal to your father
or some older person, who will understand
what measures to take to put an end to
their disgraceful behavior. + +> ____—_-
HE HAD TRIHD.
Two Irishmen once made a bet, which w4®
that one of them could not drink a gallo®
of beer in five minutes. A minute or tw?
before commencing, Pat said to a friend:
‘‘Tam sure to win, because I know
do it.”’ sina
‘How do you know it?’’ asked his frie® .
‘‘Why,’? answered Pat, ‘‘because I have
just been and tried it on with water, a0 .
did it; and, sure, if I can do it with wate
I can do it aisy with beer!”’
- +4@re. ---—---
Old Lady—‘‘Little boy, did you see a2¥~
thing of a snow-white cat???’
Little Boy—‘‘Yes; she fell into @ barre
of black paint down the street; but I ™
it all right for her.’’ ; y!
Old Lady—‘'Oh, you good little bo.
What did you do?”’ }
Little Boy—‘‘I throwed her into a batt”
of whitewash.”’
a Bed ee ve a
2 eek CO ek. Sie A
LO
me.
for
are
me
tice
:on-
pher
and
| to
ole
the
the
3an?
y of
ions,
lent,
3a at
their
rakes
e tea
assed
t the
, and
» his
sure
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. hear
child
senti-
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[ just
[This Story Will Not be
Published in Book-Form, |
JUNGLES AND TRAITORS:
(
»R,
THE WILD ANIMAL TRAPPERS OF INDIA.
BY WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON,
Author of “The White King of
4 frica,’’
“JUNGLES AND ‘I'RAITORS”’ was commenced ir
News
CHAPTER VII.
THE FATE OF BABA KHAN.
-INE times out of tena
certain death.
The rocks dropped sheerly down
for thirty feet. Then came an almost equally
steep slope of loose stones, undergrowth, and |
young timber, terminating at the torrent.
Marco and Baba Khan shot through the
air, and
part way down the slope.
The Hindoo was under-
most, and received the
most violent shock. Both
were badly stunned. In
a half-unconscious state
they bounced out of: the
bushes, and rolled swift
ly toward the base of
the hill.
They clung fast to each
other as they revolved
from stone to stone,
from one clump of un
dergrowth to another.
Bruised and bleeding,
they reached the brink
of the stream. With a
tremendous splash, they
plunged head-first into
a deep, circular pool of
icy water, above and be-
low which a fierce cur-
rent brawled and foamed
amid jagged rocks.
The shock of the cold
bath had a reviving
effect on both. Marco
Struggled free of his
enemy, and came to the
surface.
_A second later Baba
Khan’s head bobbed up
a little to one side. The
Saping wound on his
Cheek gave him a hor-
ible appearance. He
glared at Marco in a
frenzy of hatred.
‘Dog of a sahib!’’ he
Sharled; ‘‘I will have
your life!??
With vigorous strokes
©Swam toward the lad.
Marco was also a good
Swimmer. He turned,
4nd made for the side
ten pool, hoping to
“imb out on shore and
Slude his enemy.
ut neither had given
Ay ousht to an unfore-
“€n force that lurked
Sneath the placid wa-
sda A fierce undertow
it enly seized its vic-
Qs with a grip from
“Alch there was no es-
Cape
First, Marco was sucked
at eh a narrow gap
0 “oe lower end of the
st i the Hindoo fol-
i €d at an interval of
glin & dozen feet, strug-
Cane wildly to stem the
Osted. i; Then both were
wae like corks from
shot > Wave as they
Strat iown the foamy
ch of the torrent.
BEFORE THE LAD
Daan just at this critical moment meee ye as helpless as an infant.
;
by °0 Singh, who had been hard-pressed
Shel © ehemy, gained a moment’s breathing
5 2°y despatching two of his foes.
At fire eautly discovered Marco’s absence.
to hae he feared the lad was killed. He ran
Iigete t° among the dead bodies, exposing
Suaq to fearful risks from the enemy.
On enly he caught sight of a belt lying
Nizeq : Suter edge of the path, and recog-
it a8 Marco's.
brink 2 Cry of despair he hastened to the
h a Of the cliff. Far down in the ravine
®
the bon? figures struggling for life among
tance Wate cades of the torrent. The dis-
$f TVA: - An it? )
knew that 00 great for recognition, but h¢
he #.:,, 048 was Marco.
the 4,;oithful Hindoo turned his back on
Sht, an sidtntna SA
“wenty hae ran along the precipice for
“The Oamp in the Snow,”
fall over the |
cliff at this point would have meant |
landed in a dense clump of bushes |
**From
1 No. 261.
Agcents.]
Back numbers can be obtained of all
| He safely reached the lower slope of stones
| and undergrowth. Down this he plunged at
| torrent.
Meanwhile, how
Baba Khan?
The lad had all he could do to save him
| self from drowning; the enemy behind him
| was temporarily forgotten.
He whirled on and on, now
| crest of the pitching waves, now deep under
| the hissing water.
In vain
fared
COULD EXTRICATE HIMSELF, THE
THE ROPE IN TIME,
rocks.
mighty wave.
close ahead. He reached
seized it with both arms.
For a few seconds he held fast in spite of
the angry buffeting of the waves. Thena
Lake to Wilderness,’’ etc.
it with Marco and
GOOD NEWS.
But his strength was leaving him, and the
| torrent was growing wilder and swifter.
Suddenly, when hope was at an end, he
spied another jutting rock to the right of
the channel.
| The current swung him that way, and
almost by a miracle he caught it. He clung
fast with both arms, and gradually gained a
| secure knee-hold.
| Marco’s chances were now good. Between
the rock and the bank of the stream lay a
| comparatively quiet eddy.
‘ soon as I get a little strength,’’ he
said to himself, ‘‘I can wade to shore.’’
Suddenly he remembered Baba Khan. He
glanced up the channel, and was horrified to
tA
LAS
see the Hindoo in the very act of scrambling |
reckless speed, and gained the side of the| out on the bank. He had safely stemmed the |
intervening strip of waves.
Marco could make an effort to
3efore
| wade across the eddy the blood-thirsty ruffian
|
|
high on the }
| hausted frame.
| death.
were his frantic struggles. He!
Again and | plunged down a slanting reef of rocks, and |
again he collided roughly with submerged | lost itself in a boiling, funnel-shaped whirl-
Each second promised to be his last. | pool. So to let go the rock and trust himself |
Just when the agony of suffocation had | once more to the current would be nothing
begun he was flung high in the air by aj short of suicide.
Like a flash, he saw a jagged bowlder | rugged shore directly opposite his intended
blindly out, and |
| with vindictive triumph.
| he lifted the huge stone with both hands,
little strength returned, and he was in the|‘‘you are in my power.
was limping toward him with eager strides.
On the way he stopped
stone of many pounds’ weight.
A cold shiver ran through the
He was face to
Not a ray of hope remained.
\ few yards below him the
lad’s ex-
hs)
GOOLOO SINGH LET
BUT DALO PITCHED HEAD-FIRST INTO THE PIT.
Baba Khan had now reached a spot on the
victim. His dusky and mangled face shone |
‘*At last, dog of a sahib,’’ he hissed, as |
Nothing can save
| depths !
42301
| Khan’s back, and came out between his ribs.
The stone fell from his nerveless hands. He
uttered a gurgling cry, and toppled head-
first into the water.
The current rolled the dusky body to the
verge of the whirlpool, where it was in-
stantly sucked down into the churning
CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THE FIGHT ENDED.
HE tragedy was over like a flash.
the Marco had scarcely time to realize his
; good fortune when Gooloo Singh
to pick up a jagged |
face with |
| stuck
| concealed from view by the trees and under-
came leaping down over the rocks to
the edge of the torrent.
With a cry of joy, the faithful Hindoo
plunged into the eddy, breasted his way to
the rock, and dragged the lad safely to the
bank. His eyes flashed exultantly as he
glanced at the boiling waves amid which
Baba Khan’s body had disappeared.
For a moment or two Marco lay helpless
on a patch of soft grass, looking unutterable
gratitude at his preserver. Then his strength
| partially returned, and he sat up.
stream |
‘‘T owe you my life twice over,’’ he said,
huskily. ‘‘This last was
| the closest shave. It
} seems a miracle that I
am living. How can I]
ever repay you——’’
‘‘Waste no breath,
sahib,’’ interrupted the
Hindoo. ‘‘ You will need
it. There may be great
perils to face. Listen,
they are fighting as say-
agely as ever.’’
Gooloo was right.
Down the rocky preci-
pice floated husky yells
and the clanging sounds
of strife. There was
nothing to indicate vic-
tory for either side.
Marco rose unsteadily
to his feet.
‘‘We must get back,’’
he said. ‘‘They have
need of us. Is Baba
Khan really dead? After
I saw him fall a mist
seemed to swim before
my eyes.”’
‘‘The traitor’s body
is tossing from rock to
rock,’’ replied Gooloo,
pointing to the torrent.
‘*His death was more
merciful than he de-
served. Come, sahib,
your words are wise. We
must gain the path.’’
‘*How?’’ asked Marco,
glancing in despair at
the sheer precipice.
‘Farther down the
slope is less rugged,’’
answered the Hindoo.
‘*Moreover, there will
be less danger of meet-
ing an enemy. My arms
are strong. I will carry
you.’’
‘*No, I can manage
well enough,’’ protested
Marco. ‘‘I feel much
better. I don’t mind a
few bruises and a head-
ache.”’
He proved the asser-
tion by vigorously shak-
ing the water from his
clothes and walking a
few feet over the rough
stones.
Gooloo Singh was sat-
isfied.
Without further com-
ment, he led his com-
panion along the brink
of the stream. In a
short time they were
several hundred yards
below the scene of Baba
Khan’s death. The
sounds of strife from
above rang fainter and fainter in their
ears.
Now the rocky sides of the gorge fell away
to timbered slopes. Gooloo Singh stopped
and pointed upward.
‘‘Here, sahib, is a likely place,’’ he said.
‘“You go first. I will be at your heels,
ready to help.”’
Marco nerved himself, and wearily began
the rugged ascent. The faithful Hindoo
close behind him. Soon both were
GO OF
act of pulling himself to a safer position | you. Your crushed body will feed the whirl- | growth.
when Baba Khan came swirling along.
The Hindoo saw the rock, and. grabbed at
it. He swung alongside of Marco. Clinging | Don’t kill me!’
tight with one hand he lifted the other, and |
struck the lad brutally in the face.
‘‘Drown, you dog!’’ he
‘Drown !??
shrieked.
r
at whee found what he was looking for—a
D
Ww.
tufts f. broken by projecting crags
With, . pee grass.
ade hi Ong spear grasped in one hand, he
8 at eae
Port, *verything that offered the least sup-
re the cliff fell at a moderate angle, | rock.
S Way down the dizzy incline, clutch- |.Then began another battle. for life.
At the third blow Marco slipped from the
With a cry of despair ringing on his
and | lips, he was swept away by the merciless
| waves.
He heard Baba Khan’s mocking laugh.
down he tossed amid churning foam and
| spray.
|pat the Thug calls for vengeance.
| pool yonder.’’
‘‘Mercy !’” pleaded Marco. ‘‘Have mercy!
Baba Khan laughed mockingly.
‘‘A lakh of rupees would not purchase |
your life!’’ he snarled. ‘‘The spirit of Gun- |
Die! |
Die!”’ |
With keen enjoyment of his victim’s tdér- |
| ture, the Hindoo held the engine of death
| poised for an instant.
|
Up and | from
That brief respite saved Marco, Suddenly,
some unseen point, a long spear
whizzed through the air.
With unerring aim, the barb pierced Baba |
|
Meanwhile, exciting scenes had been taking
place on the narrow path far above the tor-
rent. So fierce and hot was the hand-to-
hand struggle that the disappearance of
Marco and Gooloo Singh was unheeded. __
The situation almost precluded the possi-
bility of flight. Garcia’s party fought with
grim desperation. Matlock’s bravery and
pluck inspired his handful of followers. For
atime the contest was waged stubbornly
and unyieldingly on both sides. —
At length Matlock extricated himself from
a tangle of foes. Swinging his rifle around
him, he quickly cleared a wide swath. His
face and hands were bloody and powder
4202
GOOD
grimed. He'wasa terrible sight to his ene-
mies.
‘Come, my brave fellows!’’ he yelled.
‘‘At them again! They are giving way.”’
The natives responded with lusty cheers. |
They pressed on amid the clash and thud of |
weapons.
The two Portuguese belonging to Garcia’s
party were craven cowards at heart. They |
were poorly armed; and, moreover, they |
foresaw the certainty of defeat. All at once |
they broke from the circle, and dashed up |
the path. In less time than it takes to tell, |
they had vanished beyond the cages. No|
pursuit was attempted.
‘*Let the dogs go,’’ shouted Matlock, as |
he struck right and left with renewed |
energy. ‘‘We are well rid of them. The}
fight is ours. One more rush, my lads.’’
The rush was a determined one, and the
dusky faces closed in on the foe.
The loss of his two trusted allies brought a |
blaze of anger to Garcia’s eyes. For an in-
stant he, too, meditated flight. But while he
hesitated, the opportunity was lost. He and
the remnant of his band were driven back
against the cliff.
Here there was a brief and _ bitter scuffle.
Blood flowed freely. Matlock hewed his way
to the front and faced Garcia.
The two leaders were armed with rifles.
They exchanged glances of bitter enmity as
they skillfully parried each other’s blows.
Crack! Garcia’s rifle parted at the stock.
He reeled heavily against the wall, expect-
ing his death blow.
But Matlock, stirred by an impulse of
mercy, did not strike.
‘*The law shall deal with your wretched
life,’? he cried. ‘‘Surrendter, scoundrel!’
Garcia scowled ferociously.
‘*Never!’’ he hissed. ‘‘Malediction on you!
Take that!’’
‘That’? was a short spear which the Por-
tuguese suddenly snatched from a native
and launched directly at his enemy.
Matlock was scarcely prepared for such a
treacherous deed. He dodged swiftly to one
side, and thereby narrowly escaped death.
The spear passed under Matlock’s right
arm, and whizzed on with vengeful force.
A second later it buried itself deeply in the
fore-flank of one of the bullocks that were
harnessed to the nearest cage.
Then happened a strange thing. It was so
rapid that Matlock lost the opportunity of
stretching the Portuguese lifeless on the
ground—which he fully intended to do.
The bullock, maddened by pain, swung
around, dragging his mates with him. The
cage toppled over, and struck the’ stony
path with such force as to jar the timbers
apart. |
A horny, pointed head instantly squeezed
from hketween them. Then followed the
huge body of a wild buffalo.
In all India there is no beast more to be
dreaded at close quarters. This particular
fellow was in a frenzy of rage. He caught
sight of his natural enemies. He sniffed the
air, and bellowed hoarsely. Then, with
lowered head, he charged down the narrow
path like a hurricane.
The, fight ended at once. There was a
general scramble in all directions. Friends
and foes jostled one another. Some ran to
the precipice, and let their bodies dangle
over in space. Others scaled the rocky cliff
with the agility of cats, an example that
Matlock was the first to set.
For a brief moment Garcia stood still. He
was dazed and maddened by his defeat.
When he realized his peril it was too late to
gain safe shelter. He set his face down the
path, and fled at his topmost speed.
The buffalo whirled by, trampling ruth-
lessly over the bodies ef the dead. Bellow-
ing and snorting, it sped on in. pursuit of
the Portuguese.
Matlock and his men followed in the rear,
fascinated by the excitement of the chase,
The other natives took advantage of the op-
portunity, and fled up the gorge.
Garcia was in a bad plight. For more
than a hundred yards he kept ahead of his
determined enemy. Then his strength gave |
way, and he lost ground rapidly, cumbered
as he was by his boots and clothes.
‘‘Jump into the ravine!’’ yelled Matlock,
‘tor climb the hill on the other side!’
Either the Portuguese did not hear, or he
was too confused and frightened to under-
stand. He suddenly wheeled around, and
quickly the mad brute was upon him with
lowered horns.
Garcia rose in air, and came down on the
timbered bluff to the right of the path. He
clutched at the undergrowth, and held tight
for an instant. Then he crawled slowly in
among the leaves and disappeared.
The buffalo stamped and snorted, and
looked vainl for his victim. He had
thoughts of charging the crowd in his rear,
and shook his shaggy head at them. Then
he wisely galloped down the path, and was
quickly lost to view.
It was just at this juncture that Matlock
missed Gooloo Singh and Marco, and the
discovery banished all else from his mind.
But before he could conjecture what had
become of them the absent ones hove in sight
over the brink of the gorge, twenty yards
down the path.
Their friends hurried to meet them. The
| you, Gooloo Singh. Thank God that you are
|} among the stones and bushes. I will pay ten
‘‘Baba Khan got only his just deserts,’’
was Matlock’s comment. ‘‘I sha’n’t forget
safe, my lad. I could illy have spared you.’’
He went on to explain what had just hap-
pened,
‘‘The rascally Portuguese must not es-
cape,’’ he concluded, turning to the natives.
‘*The horns of the brute undoubtedly in-
jured him. Search the hillside, men. Look
rupees for Garcia’s capture.’’
Incited by the reward the natives swarmed
up the bluff, and searched zealously for
twenty minutes. Then théy came straggling
back, one by one.
Out of their mixed stories was gleaned one
conclusive fact; namely, that Garcia had
reached the densely-timbered plateau that
stretched far beyond the verge of the hill.
‘*Tt is useless to chase him,’’ said Matlock.
‘‘The rascal can’t be badly hurt after all.
Come, we are losing valuable time.”’
He led the way up the path.
CHAPTER IX.
IN THE JAWS OF DEATH.
s *
HE scene of the fight was quickly
)
dhe reached.
Half a dozen of Garcia’s
‘’ party, who had crept back to recover
> the cages, were taken by surprise.
Two surrendered, and the other four escaped
by a daring rush.
It was a dearly-bought victory, and Mat-
lock was saddened by the scene of destruc-
tion. that everywhere met the eye. His
forces were badly thinned out, and the
enemy had suffered even more severely. It
was a matter of regret that the traitorous
Ram was among the missing,
As rapidly as possible, the narrow path
was cleared of dead and injured. The latter
were placed on heaps of boughs, and tenderly
cared for. Their companions bandaged their
wounds, and made tedious journeys to the
ravine for water.
Matlock directed the dead foemen to be
stretched ‘along the base of the cliff.
‘‘No doubt their friends will return and
bury them,’’ he said.- ‘‘Our dead must be
taken back to the village.’’
‘*How about Garcia’s cages of animals???
asked Marco. ‘‘I suppose we can regard
them as the spoils of war???
‘*Not exactly,’’ replied Matlock, ‘‘but the
wisest course will be to take them along.
We will turn them over 'to the authorities in
case a rumpus is kicked up about the
affair.’’ :
‘‘A rumpus??? queried Marco, uneasily.
‘Yes, lad. You know we have taken the
law into our own hands. We may be called
to account for it.’’
‘*But there was no other way,’’ said Mar-
co. ‘*Where would our tiger be now if we
had appealed to the nearest magistrate in-
stead of pursuing Garcia?’’
‘“Very true,’’ assented Matlock: ‘‘and
that is why I acted as I did. I admit that I
did not anticipate such a loss of life. How-
ever, we-must make the best of it now.
Don’t worry, lad, we will come out all
right. And now let’s havea look at the
cause of war.’’
Marco followed him to the cage that con-
tained the tiger. The captive was a magnifi-
cent fellow, huge of limb and superbly
striped. He glared at his visitors through
the stout slats, and snarled ferociously.
‘*Such a prize is well worth all we have
gone through,’’ said Matlock. ‘‘I don’t
wonder Garcia wanted him. And it was
you who trapped the beast, lad? You are
getting on famously.”’
Marco thrilled with pride. Then his face
clouded.
‘tT wish poor Dan was alive,’’ he reflected,
sadly. ‘‘It would please him to know it.’?
In all, five cages remained intact. The
tiger occupied one, and another was half-
filled with camping paraphernalia. The other
three contained respectively a black panther,
a leopard, and a pair of hyenas,
So much time was required for the
wounded natives that darkness came on be-
fore the preparations to start could be com-
pleted. Matlock reluctantly gave orders to
camp until morning. He feared that Garcia
might collect a force of the savage hill-men
who lived in the vicinity, and make an
overwhelming night attack.
Every precaution was taken. Guards were
set above and below the camp, and huge
fires were built.
But the dreaded hours of darkness passed
without alarm. There was little sleep for
any one. The groans of the suffering natives
mingled with the restless cries of the caged
beasts. The bullocks, deprived of food and
water, bellowed incessantly:
The first flush of dawn saw the somber
procession winding down the gorge.» Matlock
marched at the head, though he was weak
and feverish from his wound. On the truck
that had belonged to the broken buffalo
cage were the dead and injured of the party.
At the mouth of the pass happened the
one exciting incident of the return journey.
The two prisoners broke loose, and made
good their escape in spite of a hot pursuit.
An hour after sunrise the plain, scorched
a
(
\*
steep climb had exhausted Marco, and he
clung limply to the Hindoo’s arm, He briefly ,
related has thrilling adventure and rescue.
and searred by yesterday’s fire, was left
NEWS.
of the party. Men, women and children
loudly mourned the dead.
But the pedple were reasonable. They ac-
cepted Matlock’s rupees, the head man get-
ting the lion’s share.
Their wrath was directed against Garcia
and his allies, and the perfidious Ram. The
latter would have fared badly had he
chanced along at that time.
Matlock paid off his hired fighting men,
and pressed on with the handful of com-
panions that remained. ‘The sorely-taxed
bullocks made slow progress through the
tangle of miry paths, and another night-
camp in the jungle was imperative.
When the following day was half spent,
the exhausted travelers filed into camp.
They found Hofstein quite well, and with
only good ‘news to report.
He rejoiced at the capture of the tiger,
but he looked grave when he heard the com-
plete story of the expedition. He and Mat-
lock entered the tent, and held a secret con-
sultation that lasted until nearly supper
time,
Meanwhile Marco and Gooloo Singh super-
intended the arranging of the new cages,
and the feeding and watering of the bullocks
and wild animals.
Twenty-four hours later every one was
rested, and the camp was once more in its
normal condition.
Four days slipped by. Nearly all of the
cages had occupants. It would soon be time
to return to Calcutta. There the animals
would be shipped to New York by way of
Hamburg. After that fresh instructions
would be received from the animal dealer—
the tenor of which could only be surmised
at.
This question was being discussed on a
burning, scorching afternoon, Matlock and
Hofstein were stretched full length beneath
a shaded tent, gasping and perspiring. Mar-
co sat at their *feet, looking rather more
comfortable. Just outside squatted Gooloo
Singh, calm and stolid as a bronze idol.
‘*Ach, Richter, the animal dealer, knows
not his own mind,’’ Hofstein was saying.
‘‘He may order us to the Rocky Mountains,
or to the Himalayas, or to the forests of the
Congo, or to the desert beyond Suakim——”’
‘Tt is far more likely that we will accom-
pany the convoy of animals to New York,”’
interrupted Matlock. ‘‘I am glad, at all
events, that we are soon going to Calcutta.’
‘*You still worry about Garcia, then?’’
asked the German.
‘Yes, a little. He may trump up a
damaging case, and lay it before the author-
ities. We have his animals in our possession.
It would have been better had we abandoned
them in the mountains. I don’t know how
to get rid of them now.”’
‘*They are valuable, too,’’ said Marco,
‘especially the black panther.’’
‘*They really belong to the Madras house
that Garcia represents,’’ suggested Hofstein.
‘It must be Sonburg & Company. They
have an agent in Calcutta. We will turn the
animals over to him.’’
‘*Good!?? exclaimed Matlock. ‘‘That cuts
the knot. A few days more will finish our
work here, and then——”’
The rest of the sentence was inaudible.
His voice was drowned by a commotion and
shouting from outside the tent. Plainly
something had happened.
Hofstein rolled through the doorway and
collided with Gooloo Singh. They sprang to
their feet, and dashed toward the outskirts of
the camp, followed by Matlock and Marco.
The cause of the excitement was quickly
explained, Surrounded by the camp employ-
ees were two of Matlock’s native shikarees,
whose business it was to search the jungles.
They had just arrived from different direc-
tions, and each had a thrilling piece of news.
‘tA tiger is my find, sahib,’’ exclaimed
Chundra. ‘The beast is sleeping in a bed of
reeds about two miles to the south. I have
men watching the spot. It is a great chance
to use the nets,’’
‘*Sahibs, hark to me,’’ cried Dalo, the
second shikaee. ‘‘I have been to the pits
that we dug to the eastward three days ago.
In one of them is a rhinoceros—a plump,
full-grown fellow.’’
**Ach, good for both of you!’’ shouted
Hofstein.
‘‘Just the animals that we need to com-
plete the order,’’ added Matlock. ‘‘We must
start at once in spite of the heat. Conrad,
you and I will go with Chundra, and try to
bag this sleeping tiger.’’
‘Very well,’’ assented Hofstein. ‘‘Marco,
we trust the rhinoceros to you and Dalo.
Take Gooloo Singh along.’’
‘It will be an easier task than yours,”’
replied the lad. ‘‘But all the same I wish I
was going after the tiger.’’
Preparations were hurriedly made, and
just as the heat of the afternoon began to
lose its intensity the two parties started in
different directions.
In the rear of each a cage followed slowly,
drawn by lagging bullocks.
With his rifle strapped to his back, anda
sola topee, or sun helmet, on his head,
Marco pushed eastward with his two com-
panions. He knew the location of the pits,
which were about three miles from the
camp.
Dalo and Gooloo Singh carried spades and
coils of rope. The task before them was one
the pit, and drag or drive the rhinoceros
into the cage.
The way led through dense jungle, and
Marco traveled at an easy pace. He knew
that the cage would be tardy in overtaking
him.
Finally the first of the pits was reached.
lt’s covering of grass and bamboo was un-
disturbed.
Now a dull, pounding noise was heard,
mingled with occasional angry snorts.
‘*Yonder is the spot,’’? whispered Dalo.
‘‘The beast appears to be in an ugly mood.”’
‘‘Let me go first,’’? said Gooloo Singh.
‘*There may be danger. Keep back, sahib.’’
‘“There can be danger only from one
source,’’ replied Marco, ‘‘and I don’t see
much chance of that. The pits were well
dug.’?
He pressed on at the heels of the two Hin-
doos. The intervening strip of jungle was
quickly crossed. The sounds grew louder and
nearer.
Here was the pit at last. What Gooloo
Singh had feared was an actual reality. The
rhinoceros was almost free. With his pointed
snout and horn he had undermined one wall
of his prison, and caused a cave-in. Now he
was beating and trampling the earth, and
the slope thus formed already reached al-
most to the top of the pit.
The captive was a huge and savage fellow.
He paused long enough to snort angrily, and
to glare at his three visitors out of his
wicked little eyes. Then he went on with
his fight for freedom.
‘* All this has been done since I was here,’’
declared Dalo. ‘‘It wasan unfortunate place
to dig a pit. Look, the soil is loose and
rotten.’’
‘*We can’t let such a splendid animal es-
cape,’’ cried Marco. ‘‘Quick! throw a
noosed rope over his bead, and drag him to
the other end of the pit. That will give me
a chance to straighten this wall.”’
‘*A good plan, sahib,’? approved Gooloo.
‘*The cage will doubtless soon be here.’?
The two Hindoos deftly adjusted the rope,
and at the first throw they noosed the rhin-
oceros. Running to the rear end of the pit
they hauled with all their might.
The brute lunged frantically to right and
left for a moment; then he sullenly allowed
himself to be drawn several feet backward.
Marco unstrapped his rifle and threw it to
the ground. Then he seized one of the spades
and lustily attacked the sloping wall.
Singh, from the opposite side.
At that very moment the treacherous
earth crumbled, and let Marco several feet
into the pit. There he stuck fast, buried to
the knees in the soft ground.
- Before the lad could extricate himself, the
rhinoceros made a mad lunge forward.
Gooloo Singh let go of the rope in time, -but
Dalo pitched head-first into the pit.
With a snort of passion, the wicked brute
charged up the sloping wall, straight at
Marco.
The lad struggled vainly to escape. He
felt that his last moment had come!
(TO BE CONTINUED. )
oe
SO DEAF,
We bave a little four-year-old daughter;
Gertie, who is continually creating laughte!
with her odd speeches. The other day het
mother picked up a handkerchief that ha'
been left at our house by a young lady
visitor, and told Gertie that she might také
it home to the owner, whom we ca
Minnie. Off trotted Miss Gertie with thé
handkerchief, and presented it to the owne
saying: ‘
‘Minnie, mamma did tell me to -brips
your hanterchief home,’’
Minnie, to plague the litte one, said:
‘‘Why, that isn’t my handkerchief !’’
Gertie looked. puzzled for a moment, 4?
then exclaimed: t
‘‘Why, Minnie! Well, I don’t know wh®
I’ll do with that mamma. She’s gettin’ oe
ful. She so deaf she can’t tell that was yo
hanterchief or not.’’ ; af
The fact that her mother is a trifle de r
made Gertie’s remark all the more enjoy
able.
—--_-~+-«¢ oe —-
JOHNNY’S SCHOOL RULES:
Teacher—‘‘Have you finished your core
positon on what little boys should not do
school?’?
Little Johnny—‘‘ Yes, sir.’’
Teacher—‘‘ Read it.’’ 8)
Little Johnny (reading) — ‘‘Little bo, ai
when at school, should not make face.
the teacher; and should:not study too me
?cause it makes them near-sighted ; use
should not sit too long in one position, pould
it makes their backs crooked; and § gt?
not do long examples in ’rithmetie, ©
it uses up their pencils too fast.’’
—>6 >
HIS PART.
decsilbetadenatiece for’
Professor—‘‘So you confess that the UP op
tunate young man was carried to the P yp.
Fresh, what part did you take in
behind. The village was reached before
noon. A pitiful scene ensued on the arrival
of labor and skill rather than of peril. They
expected to dig a narrow sloping passage to
graceful affair??? Jeo
Undergraduate (meekly) —‘tThe loft
yy 2? ‘
sir, is
‘‘Be careful, sahib,’’? warned Gooloo |
and there drenched with water? Nowy qis-
meee
1 to
me
loo.
ype,
hin-
pit
and
wed
ard.
it to
ades
0100 —
ous
feet
d to
, the
yard.
, but
orute
1, at
He
hi
ghte
. her
- pad
lady
wnels
prip8
GooDp
[This Story Will Not Be Published in Book-Form. ]
THE BOY CATTLE KING,
A Story of the Great Colorado Combine,
BY HARRY DANGERFIELD,
Author of ‘‘The Boy from the West,’’ etc.
bet Siete,
(“THE Boy CATTLE KING” was commenced in
No. 259. Back numbers can be obtained of all
News Agents.)
baie Gch
CHAPTER XIII.
THE BOY RANCHER RECEIVES VISITORS.
O,
GX ON KIRK took possession of South
Fork Ranch immediately. He did
¢ not retain many of McGoon’s men,
<*> as he knew they were strongly in
sympathy with the Cattle-Raisers’ Combine,
making it certain they could not be de-
pended on in case of serious trouble.
It was necessary to keep two or three of
the cowboys to give the new men points
about the ranch, and Don used his best
judgment in selecting them, relying entirely
on his ability to judge character by general
appearance.
For some time Don had been contem-
plating purchasing the South Fork Ranch or
Double D, if either of them could be ob-
tained for their full value, or even some-
What more, and, with this in mind, he had
gradually engaged twenty-five cowboys,
picking them up here and there, with the
understanding that they were to rally round
him promptly at his summons. He selected
these men for their horsemanship, their
ability with rope.and gun, and their reputed
bravery.
The boy well understood he had under-
taken a mighty task in trying to defend the
Vights of the small ranchers and_ sheep-
herders against the powerful Combine and
its robber-like methods, for the members of
the Combine were wealthy, every one, and
Were said to have an iron grip on the great
politicians and the Governor of Colorado,
While the ‘‘nestcvs’’ and ‘‘shepherds’’ were
usually poor mel, comparatively speaking,
With no hold ai all on any one with ,in-
fluence to aid them in maintaining their
rights.
Don had a double object in engaging
against the big cattlemen, the first being to
‘square himself’? with Aubry Beauchamp
and Aubry’s father. But it was not entirely
4 matter of revenge. It had made his blood
Oil to witness the indignities heaped on the
Sheep-raisers and owners of little ranches by
the arrogant and pitiless cattle kings, whose
Cowboys were usually instructed to lose no
©pportunity to make life a burden for the
“etested ‘‘crawlers.’’? He had felt the in-
Justice of it all, and it was his hope—a des-
perate one, indeed—to some way set things
Tight in a measure. Any one but a boy of
Carlessness and determination must have
‘esitated and faltered before needlessly pit-
ting himself against the powerful Cattle-
men’s Combine.
ut the step was already taken, he was
now the openly avowed champion of the
hesters,’’? and there could be no hesitating
or turning back.
hrough his lawyer, Owen North, in Den-
Ver, he ordered the barbed wire needed to
Tun the fence that should shut off his own
p Tritory from that of the adjoining ranches.
® boundaries had already been properly
Un out, but, being determined to settle the
er so they could make him no trouble
a that score, he engaged competent sur-
Ors to run the lines again,
ree days after his adventure in Denver,
ino” installed at South Fork Ranch await
me arrival of the surveyors and the
ed wire fencing.
ing oe was seated on the ranch veranda talk-
: © his foreman, who was standing. All
.ohce the boy rose to his feet, saying:
Tha: 2? are those coming yonder, Burkett?
believe they are strangers.”?
it” ley are strangers.
ranch, © horsemen were approaching the
» COMming on at a smart pace.
Meg ee’ surveyed them a moment, and
«a8 replied:
ton 2° on ther right looks like Miles Darl-
» © ther Double D. One on ther left is a
Ocher, and ther middle man’s a
copper ter me.??
Ca are coming here?’’ :
Want aight asa string, Mister Kirk. You
Dart, to be ready ter meet them, too, fer
and Ne. can be mighty bad when hé tries,
alwa S carries So * ‘
the draw. YS carries his guns handy for
on ; \ : ‘
Alarmeq led quietly, seeming in no way
bia *
reagy al Tcall up the boys an’ have them
COWDoy. case of a scrimmage?’’ asked the
"Tt iy
hardly ¢ not necessary,’? was the reply. ‘I
poke Bieyhin he men are coming here to
likg 281, I dunno *bout thet. They don’t
they °" None whatever, sir. an’ :
y atever, sir, an’ I reckon
(wl take ther first chance ter do fer ye.”’
"en, 80 * urkett, Iam not afarid of three
Mimbo, 2° may leave me to look out for
ha One, ??
Cc
°wboy understood this as a dismissal,
and he walked away slowly, muttering to
himself and keeping his eyes on the ap- |
proaching men.
As the horsemen came nearer Don Kirk
started slightly, his face seeming to palea
bit. He had recognized the man in the mid-
dle as the new member of the Cattlemen’s
Combine—Mr. Garvice Seely.
‘*Well I have been expecting you,’’ mut-
tered the boy-rancher, grimly. ‘‘I had to|
face you again sooner or later, and 1 may
as well see the matter out now.’
He was on the steps as they rode up, and
he saw the third man was old Sim Dolliver, |
of the Cross Bar. The bright trimmings of |
the cowboy’s outfit glittered in the sunshine,
showing they had been lately polished.
‘*How do you do, gentlemen?’’ called the |
boy on the steps, touching the brim of his
sombrero.
Silver Sim removed his hat, and made a
sweeping bow, while Miles Darlton nodded
stiffly. Garvice was the only one to speak
‘*Good-morning, Don,’’ he said, familiarly.
‘*T have come to have a little talk with
you.’
The boy compressed his lips, a look of dis-
pleasure coming to his handsome face.
‘My name is Kirk,’’ he returned. ‘‘Par- |
ticular friends alone have the liberty to ad-
dress me otherwise.’’
‘*Well, I’d like to know if I am not a par-
ticular friend of yours?’’ exclaimed Seely.
‘*No, sir,’’? was the prompt reply; ‘‘I have
not the pleasure of your friendship. To me |
you are a stranger.’’
‘‘Oh, come now!’’ protested the Easterner, |
with a nervous laugh. ‘‘I am not to be|
fooled in that way, and you ought to know
better than to try it.’’
Don drew himself up straight.
‘*Tf you and I have dealings you will soon
find I am not given to fooling, sir,’’ he}
said, coldly. ‘*When I say a thing I mean |
it. You have evidently mistaken me for
some other person.’’
‘*Oh, no! oh, no! You are Donald Glyn-
don, and you cannot deceive me. I have
come here to talk things over with you,”’
and Seely swung down awkwardly from the
saddle.
‘*You are welcome to talk,’’ said the
young rancher, quietly; ‘‘but you are
wasting your breath. Will you come in,
gentlemen?’?’
‘*No, no,’? answered the man from the
Kast, hastily, as if in fear of something.
‘*Tt is cooler out here in the open air, and |
the piazza is a good place to do all the talk-
ing we wish to do; eh, Mr. Darlton?’’
**Good enough,’’? grunted Darlton, who
wore anything buta pleasant look on his
florid face.
Silver Sim dismounted with a sprightliness
that showed he wus still wiry and agile de-
spite his age, and the heavy owner of the
Double D reached the ground rather more
gracefully than had Garvice Seely.
Don whistled sharply through his fingers, |
at which signal three or four brawny, be-
whiskered fellows appeared with startling
suddenness, the belt of every man bearing a
brace of heavy revolvers. These men ap-
peared ready for business of any sort, and |
their faces seemed to take on a look of dis-
appointment as Don directed:
‘‘Take charge of these horses. Be ready
to——??
“Excuse me,’’ cut in’ Darlton, shortly.
‘‘We’re not going to stop, and I prefer to
keep my horse in sight. He’ll be all right—
so,’? and he skillfully knotted the rein to
the veranda rail.
‘Quite right—quite so,’’ nodded Seely, as
he followed the rancher’s example.
Dolliver said nothing at all, but he secured
his horse as had the others
Something like a scornful smile flitted
across Don Kirk’s features, but he calmly
said:
‘*‘As you please, gentlemen.’’
Then he dismissed the ready cowboys with
a wave of his hand.
‘*Those fellows showed up as if they were
waiting to be called,’’ observed the East-
erner, nervously.
Don said nothing to this, but there was a
meaning look on his firm face.
Seely came up the steps first, with Silver
Sim following, and Darlton lingering along
behind. Don motioned toward chairs.
‘Sit down, gentlemen. In one respect the
former owner of this ranch was certainly
sensible—he bought comfortable chairs.’’
The Easterner hesitated, then he sat down,
his example being followed by the others.
Darlton immediately elevated his feet to
the rail and took a leather case from his
pocket.
‘*Smoke?’? he questioned, as he held it
toward the young ranch-owner.
Don shook his head, declining, with the
polite assurance that he never indulged.
Seely also declined, and ‘Sim Dolliver pro-
duced a hunk of tobacco, from which he
twisted a huge piece with his yellow teeth,
mumbling that he preferred it to a box of
cigars. Then Darlton took out a black weed,
nipped the end, struck a light from a
pocket-lighter, and began to puff out blue-
gray smoke like a steam engine.
There was silence. Puff, puff, puff went
the owner of the Double D, as he stared
straight out on the open plain. Silver Sim
rolled his eyes and rolled the quid in his
mouth. Seely nestled a bit in his seat, while
the boy calmly waited, watching all three
NEWS.
4203
)
with keen eyes that seemed to read their
thoughts.
After a bit, Silver Sim cleared his throat,
| and his eyes rolled round till they met Don’s.
| The boy almost fancied he saw a look of
satisfaction and admiration expressed on the
cowboy’s face, as if it were repressed, but
| could not be entirely hidden.
‘‘Hum!’’ grunted Sim. ‘‘I’m hyar in ther
place o’ my employer, Mr. Beauchamp, an’
I’m ter agree ter whut these other two gents
|lays down as law an’ gospel. Thet’s about
| all I’ve got ter Say.’’
‘‘We’ve come to see if you won’t change
your resolution about leaving the Combine,
Mr. Kirk,’’ explained Darlton, suddenly
| dropping his feet heavily from the rail and
facing the waiting boy. ‘‘What you did the
other day in Denver was done hastily, and
you have since had time to think the matter
over. You must understand the advantages
of being a member of our organization, and
}I think we will be able to persuade you to
reconsider your rather premature action.’’
‘‘Tf such is your errand, gentlemen,’’ said
the young rancher, quietly, but resolutely,
‘‘you have wasted your time in coming
here.’
CHAPTER XIV.
ONE BOY AND THREE MEN.
Qa
ay, I is possible you have not yet considered
| ‘| this matter as fully as you ought,’’
said Darlton, his voice harsh and un-
(es 5 ple
asant. ‘‘ Besides the advantages you
lose by withdrawing, you make us your
enemies, and you cannot afford that.’’
‘‘Far less can I afford to become identified
with the organization, sir,’’ fell promptly
from Don’s lips.
‘*Bh? What’s that?’’ cried Darlton, sur-
prised. ‘‘Can’t afford—— Come, come!
What do you mean by that?’?
‘-Exactly what I say. I have witnessed
the methods:and workings of the Colorado
Cattle-Raisers’ Combine, and, being honest
and just in all my dealings, I find I cannot
belong to your organization.’’
Dariton blew hoarsely threw his nose, his
red face growing dark, while a scowl gath-
ered beneath the wide brim of the hat that
had been thrust back on his head.,
‘Your language is certainly plain enough,
but, being a boy, I suppose you do not real-
ize the full meaning of your words.’’
‘*Then you are quite wrong again. I have
weighed my words carefully, and I under-
stand what lam saying. Your Combine,
like all powerful organizations of capital,
works for the advantage of its members
without regard for the rights of outsiders.
More than that, your Combine tramples on
| the rights of the weak and helpless, defying
the laws of the land to reach and punish you
: for your wrong-doing.”’
All three men were now staring at the
calmly-speaking boy with the utmost aston-
lishment, as if they could scarcely believe
| the evidence of their ears.
| ‘*Why, confound your insolence!’’ Darlton
suddenly blurted, losing control of himself.
‘*You talk as if we were a set of criminals!
I never heard ef such impudence!’’
Don rose to his feet.
‘‘T have said no more nor no less than I
mean,’’ he declared, still speaking calmly.
‘“‘T did not expect my words would please
| you, but it is better that this matter be
settled now and here, so there will be no
need of further discussion between us.’’
Seely was saying nothing now. He sat
twisting on his chair, looking from Don to
Darlton. Silver Sim worked his jaws as
calmly as if he had no particular interest in
the matter, now and then spitting over the
rail with great skill that told of long prac-
tice.
‘*Well, we came here to settle it,’’ said the
owner of the Double D Ranch, also getting
on his feet. ‘‘If you persist, you will be
sorry, for we shall——”’
‘“*Go on, sir,’’ urged Don, as Darlton hesi-
tated. ‘‘What will you do?’’
‘‘Nothing now, but you’ll never keep
South Fork Ranch—let me tell you that!’’
‘*Which I presume is a threat?’’
‘‘Threat or not, it is business. JI reckon
you mean to run a fence to cut us off from
the river?’’
‘‘] mean to fence my land. Certainly you
cannot object to that?’’
‘‘Certainly we do object to it!’’
‘“‘But you made the precedent—you have
fenced yourselves in to suit your tastes and
to the disadvantage of the small ranchers.
Ido not see how you can reasonably ob-
ject.”’ F
That was really turning the tables on the
big cattlemen, but Darlton refused to accept
it it in that light.
‘“>
. ON smiled triumphantly as _ he
watched them depart.
| ‘‘From this time on they will
CE mean fight,’’ he muttered; ‘‘and I
do not fancy they will hesitate at any means
to get the best of me. Garvice Seely isa
scoundrel, and I have a fancy that Miles
Darlton is a fit mate for him, As for Warren
Beauchamp, he already hates me so he
would not come here with them, but sent
the cowboy instead. Silver Sim knew 1 was
the boy he befriended months ago, but he
made no sign that he remembered. No
sign——’’
hen the young rancher bethought himself
of the something thrust secretly into his
hand by the cowboy, and he looked to see
what it was, discovering a closely-folded bit
of paper. Opening this, Don saw there was
some writing on it.
‘*Mistur Kurk, respected Sur,’’ it ran,
‘this is to warn you to keep a right sharp
eye opun fer snaigs, fer the Kumbine hes
laid out to git shet on you some way And
theyre a tuff croud to buck aginst bet yure
boots they is goin to be truble at yure mine
and youd bettur hav yure best men thare
i doant know jest whut it is but thares some
skeem goin Ole Sim Dolliver hant fergot
you fer he sed youd be somebudy some day
an yure pruvin it tear this up from Yure
friend Sim DOLLIVER.’’
Don had a great deal of difficulty in
making this out, for the writing was much
worse than the spelling; but, when he had
deciphered its meaning he felt sure it was
an honest warning from an honest man and
true friend.
‘+~+——__——_
PAINTED ANIMALS.
Mother—‘‘TI did not know that Aunt Hetty
was having her house repainted, or I would
not have sent you children there to spend
the day.’’
Young Hopeful—‘‘Oh, we had a nice time.
Aunt Hetty did not bother us at all; she
was too busy with the workmen. We went
up stairs all by ourselves, and played keep-
in’ zoological garden.’’
‘What did you do for animals?’’
‘‘We hadn’t any except Aunt Hetty’s
NEwW'Ss.
LD PLE: Sea,
The Postboy of the Kanawha;
OR,
THE CHAMPION OF UNCLE SAM.
—- >
BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR,
Author of ‘Little Hickory of the Mountain Ex-
press,” “Zig-Zag, the Boy Conjurer,”
“The Young Stone-Cutter,” etc.
{LITTLE SNAP” was commenced in No. 253. Back
numbers can be obtained of all News Agents. }
cecilia
CHAPTER XXXII.
A RACE WITH A RUNAWAY RIVER.
2 was not borne on by his gallant Jack
in that fearful ride with the flood of
Tripping Waters, he sped down the
post road at a flying pace.
The bloodell bay that he rode seemed to
have a realization of the awful peril from
that pursuing wall of water.
Higher and higher rose that deafening
thunder, until it dulled the postboy’s hear-
ing and fairly made bis senses reel.
Glancing wildly back he saw that the
foaming avalanche of water was sweeping
everything before it!
The narrow valley was completely filled
from mountain side to mountain side!
There was no way for him to scale the
rugged heights overhanging him in season to
escape the flood.
His only hope lay in continued flight—in
reaching the mouth of the valley before he
could be overtaken by the monster at his
heels!
Every moment saw it so much nearer, but
while life and his fleet-footed horse were left
him he was bound not to lose courage.
Just before reaching the extension of the
mountain gorge, the defile made an abrupt
turn, bringing him who followed its course
into a sudden view of the wider regions be-
yond.
Almost the first sight to greet the comer’s
eye was a rambling wooden building stand-
ing half on the land and half over the
stream.
This was called Swett’s Mills, and a few
rods below stood the house of the owner,
Even under the spell of his own great
danger, Little Snap realized the deadly peril
of every one at this place.
Thus, as he dashed on, he shouted to them
a warning of their impending doom.
‘‘The river has broken through the dam!
Flee for your lives!”’
The men at the mill had already been
called from their work by the unaccount-
able noise up the valley, and as the postboy
sped into sight, they saw behind him the
frightful wall of water.
Instantly Mr. Swett recognized their peril,
and shouted:
‘¢Run for your lives, boys! Help me save
my family.’’
Little Snap was already abreast of the
mills, and he saw Mrs. Swett and her little
child just leaving the house, with cries of
terror.
‘*Run, Mary!’’ shrieked her husband.
‘*The flood is upon us!”’
In her fright, the poor woman started to
run, catching at her child and missing ‘it.
With a loud cry the little one fell to the
earth, Mr. Swett running toward it as fast
as he could.
Little Snap sped past him, and reining his
bay close to the struggling child, he leaned
over in his seat until he could reach the help-
less one.
Then he lifted it up in front of him, and
keeping on with unabating speed, swept
down the valley.
Mr. Swett’s companions had sought safety
on the mountain side, and he himself ran
down the road after his terrified wife.
A short distance beyond, the valley of the
Kanawha was reached, and the great danger
mainly over.
None too soon was this escape accom-
plished, for Little Snap had not checked the
speed of his horse, as he dashed up the side
of the declivity near the road, when a deaf-
ening crash told him that the runaway
river had reached the mills.
The next moment the flood-wall seemed to
burst, the water spreading out on either
hand with startling effect.
It was such a sight as those few witnesses
had never seen before and never wanted to
again.
The deep channel of the Kanawha was
suddenly filled to overflowing, so the entire
valley was under water.
Trees, earth, rocks, many of them of large
size, and debris of eyerything it had found
in its course was scattered high and low by
the swollen stream.
‘*Tt was a narrow escape!’’ exclaimed Mr.
Swett. ‘‘We owe our lives to you, Dix
Lewis, for in saving Flossie here you gave
the rest of us a chance to get away. See!
the old mill is gone, and everything in it!
But we must be thankful that no lives were
Pe rs the Postboy of the Kanawha
oh
{This Story will not be Published in Book-Form.] | had come, leaving the marks of its awful
desolation.
Not a tree was left standing in the entire
range of its fearful path, nor an object that
its giant-power could move.
The road, as far as could be seen, was en-
tirely obliterated, only a rock-strewn gulley
showing where it had been.
Not.a piece of the timber of Swett’s Mills
was to be seen, and the foundation itself had
been swept away !
The house bad been lifted bodily up and
carried several rods, but standing higher
than the mills, it had escaped the heavier
part of the onset, so it had not been utterly
ruined,
Mr. Swett was inclined to take his loss
philosophically.
‘‘T don’t understand the cause of that
breakage, for it was only yesterday that I
was examining that dam, and could find no
sign of a leak.’’
Seeing that he could be of no benefit to
the sufferers, as soon as he had given his
horse a breathing spell, the postboy resumed
his journey, feeling extremely thankful over
his Providential escape.
‘*T shall prize you next to Jack now,
Tom,’’ he said, stroking the faithful creat-
ure’s neck. ‘‘If. you had been one whit
less fleet it must have been all over with
me. How I tremble now, though it is all
over |’?
At Hutsland, Little Snap’s first stopping-
place—in fact, the first town he came to—he
told of the disaster in Tripping Waters val-
ley, his story being listened to with open-
mouthed wonder.
With as little delay as possible, a gang of
men started to the scene, ready to do what
they could toward restoring the fortunes of
Mr. Swett and his family.
Meeting with no adventure, the postboy
reached Upper Loop, and upon his return he
was accompanied by a party of a dozen
men, who were going up to see the work of
desolation.
Thus when Little Snap got back to the
place he found a large crowd gathered about
the mouth of the valley.
‘You will have hard work to get through,
Dix, but I suppose it would be hard work to
stop you. Some of us will go up with you,
if you wish it.’’
CHAPTER XXXII.
A STARTLING RELIC OF THE FLOOD.
~m-
C= - ECLINING this kind offer, the post-
|) boy continued on toward his des-
d tination, often finding it difficult to
> get along.
But slowly he worked his way up the val-
ley, until he reached the spot where in the
forenoon the river had been spanned by the
pole bridge.
Of course there was no trace of this left.
In fact, there was not a single familiar
feature on the landscape of that doomed
valley.
The stream had subsided, so he had no
trouble in fording it a little above where
the bridge had been.
Every vestige of vegetable growth was
swept away, leaving the scene but a waste
of rocks, and he could now look up the defile
even to where the ruined dam stood out like
a skeleton of rock.
Little Snap stopped for several minutes t0
gaze upon the sight, but he was about t
move on, knowing that he had already lost
so much time that he would be a couple 0
hours late, when a dark object suspende
from the branches of a tree on the mountal?
side above the reach of the flood caught b
attention.
Driving a little nearer to it, he saw thab
it was a man’s coat.
‘ —_—__-__——
ANOTHER OF THEM,
A well-known missionary tells the follow-
ing amusing story:
‘‘T had spent the best part of my youth in
the mission field of Africa, and in company
with my wife was on a visit to my native
country.
‘*One day I had occasion to give a descrip-
tion of my work to a large and fashionable
audience in a certain hall.
‘*When I was speaking I took particular
notice of a boy who was listening with rapt
attention.
‘‘When the meeting was over, the boy
stepped on to the platform, and said:
‘* “Please, sir, I have been very much in-
terested in your lecture’—and here he hesi-
tated.
‘“*Go on, my little man,’ I said; ‘you
want to help in the good work?’
‘**Oh, not that,’ was the boy’s reply;
‘what I want to know is have you got any
foreign stamps to spare?’ ”’
—— > « > ——.
CONDITIONS FULFILLED.
‘*Look here, you villain,’’ said the victim,
worst, ‘‘you advertised to extract teeth
without pain.’’
as he wi ithed agonizingly in the dentist’s have more corresponding mempers than Ot
chair, after the molar artist had done his NEws clubs, but in order to claim that we
[SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column is for Goov
NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted
excepting such as are genuine Goop NEWs Club
notices, and nothing in the shape of am advertise-
ment will be allowed, Every club notice should
have the names of the president and secretary of
the club attaghed., For information concerning
GOOD NkEwWs Club Badge and Electrotypes see ad.
vertisement on last page. |
CLUB CHAT,
We have received an exceedingly neat list of mem-
bers of the Goop Nrws Stars and Stripes Club of
Duluth, Minn.
The Goop NEws Stamp Exchange Club of Chicago,
hands which do not tend to facilitate his | Ul., has just been organized, with E. Milburn as presi-
dent and BE. A. Banby as secretary.
Miss Adelaide Stickles, 347 Walnut street, Spring-
field, Mass., would like to hear from all young ladies
interested in club matters. She has a surprise 1n store
for them.
Karle E. Griggs, 212 Windsor street, Atlanta, Ga.,
would like to hear from any one about the starting of
a Goop NEws Theatrical Club. This, as we have said
before, is an excellent idea, and the editor will be only
too glad to give his assistance and advice in the acting
of little plays taken from the stories published in Goop
NEws.
CLUB NOTICES.
There is an old adage which says, “All that glitters
is not gold,” but in our case the glittering object is as
genuine as gold. You say what object? why, the Goop
NrEws Amateur Publishing Club of St. Louis, Mo. This
club 1s for the advancement of exchanges between
amateur publishers and for the benefit of those who
can write worthy poems, etc., but can’t have them
published. We invite all who are in any way inter-
ested in literary or printing matters to join. The first
one who is the possessor of a printing press joining in
each State will be appointed chief press representa-
tive, and the first in each locality, if he has a printing
press or not, will be appointed representative of his
locality. ‘The duty of the representative in each local-
ity is to forward all his notes, ete., to the chief State
press representative, who in turn forwards them to
the editor and secretary of the club on a nicely printed
sheet. The first payment upon joining will be 15
cents, and thereafter 5 cents a month dues. When
joining, the member will receive a badge, membership
card and some reading matter. We would like to
hear of a resident of this city who has a printing press
and such. Join and be happy. Clarence Presscott,
president; Arnold C. Kruckmann, secretary and edi-
tor, Equitable Building, 6th floor, Sixth and Locust
streets, St. Louis, Mo.
Why not join the National Goop News Club of
America and correspond with bright boys and girls all
over the country? We must have thirty more mem-
bers before we issue our new list, and as an induce-
ment to those contemplating joining a corresponding
club we make the following offer: For the next two
weeks succeeding the insertion of this notice you can
join the National Goop NrEws Club of America for'the
insignificant sum of 7 cents, just half of what it costs
regularly, all to half a cent. After the two weeks have
elapsed the dues will be as usual, 15 cents per year.
After you join the club you are a perpetual member.
Ladies and foreigners (except Canadians) free. We
havea member in nearly every State in the Union, and
our foreign ones in such countries as Natal, Bahama
Isles, Hayti, China, Cuba, Japan and also in the
European countries. Look up our camera notice in
some of the back numbers of the ‘King of Boys’
Weeklies.” It will pay you. More particulars (as we
can give you lots more) for the asking by addressing
the secretary, H. E. Bokman, 908 Hollins street, Bal-
timore, Md.
The Goop Nerws Corresponding and Exchange
Club of Westboro, Mass., has now a membership
of 25 members. We want100 more. Join before July
1st and be admitted for a 2c. stamp to pay post
age. A monthly dues of a 2c. stamp will be chargé
to pay the postage, etc., as itsends a list of members
and 5 foreign stamps every three months. So send #
stamp and receive 5 foreign stamps, 5 tricks wl
cards, 5 tricks in parlor magic and list of membe?!*:
Beat this offer all who can. If you wish to correspon
or exchange, this is the club to join—a fair, honorable
club, organized for pleasure and knowledge, The first
from each State will be appointed representative fo!
that State if we have not already gotone. Ladies
join this club and we will assure you the best of treat
ment. Foreigners especially invited to join free.
them we give 5 American stamps instead of 5 foreig?
stamps. Address the secretary, E. B. Logan, Box
666, Westboro, Mass. W. McCarty, president.
Twentieth century girls—well they are a little
swift for us, but for strictly up-to-date girls Goop N
Musical Clubs far in the lead. Our girls write z
brightest, neatest and cutest letters to their correspo?
dents that Uncle Sam ever had the honor of trans™
ting through the mails. Perhaps you would like ve
correspond with one of them, If not, why not?
do not claim a membership of 500 or 1,000, but as oe
members are almost equally divided between Jad
and gentlemen we feel sure that you can find ©
among our members that will suit your taste. AS lor
as you remain a member you will receive our ©
paper free, and each month we will send you a lee
bundle of papers and reading matter. Initiation ! Ts
with dues paid for three months, only 10 cents. C.
McKinley, secretary, Anita, Iowa.
Attention, attention, attention! The Goop New
Corresponding and Exchange Club of Duluth, Mil 8
will be known in the future as the Goop NEWS ¢ DU
and Stripes Corresponding and Exchange Club 0
luth, Minn. The members of the old club will be re
to this one, so all joining will have plenty of C0
spondents. We have just issued a new list, ining
should join and receive one. The first one jo f nis
from each State will be appointed representative & ely!
or her State. We have three departments, narewe
corresponding, exchange and prize, All GooD ents
readers should join the club. Initiation fee 10 Cnet
ladies free. Address all communications to the Poe”
dent and secretary, Wm. G. Campbell, 205 Sout?
enteenth avenue, East, Duluth, Minn,
of
The Great Western Reading and Exchange C1
Clinton, Mo., has removed, and is now situate a per
wata, I. T. At the front is where we are ane, # tbe
we intend to stay. Read the following offer: ft i8
first one joining our club after the publication hued
notice will be given a fine cloth-bound book V# d
$1; to the 25th a fine book, and to the 50th jue
prize package containing many things of Vi nate
sides which all get list, card and reading valle
Ladies 2 cents; foreigners free. Address C. D.V
ee
EW
the
secretary, Nowata, I. T. (p to
The Goop NrEws Philatelic Club does not, om Oe
nave op
sl nd
largest stamp society, we offer an agriculturt ig all
worth three times the initiation fee on the e is deo
original communication to all joining from ye of
might; but if she can manage him there’s
no use anybody gettin’ excited over it.
**Cut ’er off, doctor !’’
What’s the price of eggs to-day, please?’’
sir,’’ was the conciliatory reply.
‘*T assure you that I felt no pain, my dear | ‘The jnitiation fee is only 10 cents, and ~ © opie
re
dues. For further particulars refer to bac
jon
a
bi
pr
4 bb
ar
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res
10,
the
at
200
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With brs
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be 15
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ay post
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The firs
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Ladies
of treat
free.
, foreig?
ren, pox
t.
Goop Nrws, or address the secretary, Chas.W. Heins,
1335 Broadway, New York. The president is John
Henderson.
Boys and girls, join the
teliable Goop NrEws Cor-
responding Club of Tunnel Hill, Ky.
This club has
just been organized and added to the long list of
Goop News clubs. The first person joining from
each State will receive a novel worth from 10 to 25
cents, and will also receive a one year’s membership
card and listof members every month for four months;
after this a 2c. stamp will be required to get a list of
members. The initiation fee is only 10 cents. Address
all communications to the secretary. J. R. Sullivan,
president, Hogan and Keene streets, Houston, Texas;
T, H. Patton, secretary, Tunnel Hill, Ky.
Attention! What do you think of this offer? We
are going to give to every boy or girl who joins this
club 4 5c. novels. We want 100 members, that is the
reason we make this offer. The initiation fee is only
10 cents, and there are no dues to pay. Why not join
the Goop Nrws Reading Club of Rome, N. Y.? Send
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at once and receive list of members who have about |
200 novels to exchange. Address all letters to A. J.
Sees, 702 West Dominick street, Rome, N. Y., secre- | . , ‘ Be
: : 3 y | Hastings, Minn., has U. 8S. and foreign stamps, and
tary; James J. Taylor, president.
Join the Goop NEws Pleasure Club and get as a pre-
mium a book which tells why some coins are rare,
What they look like and where to sell them, Leaving
the premium entirely out of the question, a member-
Ship in this club is just worth double the amount it will
cost you, namely, 25 cents, a year’s dues. We will
soon issue our list No.1. Willit contain your name?
Address Chas. W. Simison, secretary, Staunton, Il.
The Goop News Bay State Corresponding Club is
the only club giving genuine photographs of its mem-
bers. Every one joining gets -three different photo-
graphs of members (their choice of ladies or gentlemen),
membership eard, list, circulars, etc. For a short time
Only the initiation fee is 20 cents; no dues; ladies free.
B. A. Stickles, secretary, 347 Walnut street, Spring-
field, Mass.
All stamp collectors are invited to join the Goop
News Stamp Exchange Club of Chicago, Ill. Initia-
tion fee 10 1c. stamps. On joining you get 100 foreign
Stamps and a bundle ot reading matter. All members
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GooDp
WATCH.—S. E. Ellis, Box 425, Palmyra, Mo., has
solid silver watch, or 25 25-cent novels, in good condi-
tion, to exchange for Hawkeye or kodac camera, o1
| best offer.
MISCELLANEOUS.—J. W. Van Ostrand, Jr., 53
Pennsylvania avenue, Brooklyn, has1 4x5 snap-shot |
camera, set of boxing-gloves, 2 vols. of boys’ papers
(bound), pair steel climbing-spurs, a 12-lb. shot, pair
full-length tights and shirt, black, Baltimorean No. 11
self-inking printing press and outfit, 1 punching-bag,
40 old coins, 30 minerals and curios, a nickel flute and
music, 1 watch (lady’s size, gold plated, American
movement), to exchange for best offer of stamps. All
letters answered. %
BOYS’ PAPERS.—J. F. Schen, 17 Bingham street,
Chicago, Il., bas Goop Nrws, 206 to 240, and over
fifty other boys’ papers to exchange for best offer in |
Goop NEws. All letters answered.
PRINTING MATERIAL. — Chas. W. Simison,
Staunton, Ill., has 38 cuts, 15 fonts of job type, 400 lbs.
of body type, ornaments, borders, cases, &c., to ex-
change for a self-inking press, 5x8, or larger.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Richard 8. Bacon, Box 584,
lots of reading matter, and printing press to exchange
for catcher’s mitt, or sweater; has also 57 feet of in- |
Sulated wire to exchange for either of two former
articles.
READING MATTER.—Frank B. Reid, 912 A ave-
nue, Oskaloosa, Iowa, has eight excellent 25-cent
novels and other reading matter to exchange for best
offer in athletic goods,
CAMERA OUTFIT.—Thomas Therrien, 258 Ewing
street, Chicago, Ill., has a Kombi-camera outfit to ex-
change for a safety, Kombi costing $15.25. AU letters
and postals answered.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Harry Boyle, 318 Ivy avenuer
San Francisco, Cal., has a little theater curtain and
stage attached, and the plays of the ‘“‘Battle of Bunker |
Hill,” “Bluebeard,” and “Jack the Giant Killer,’ two
25-cent books, one 50-cent picture book, one 25-cent
picture book, 1 fencing sword, and 20 picture cards to
exchange for a printing press.
READING MATTER,—Early Moorman, Marshall,
BOAT.—C. Olsen, 140 President street, Brooklyn,
answered.
PRINTING PRESS.—Alvin Whitney, of Castile,
New York, bas a small printing press in good con-
| dition, with necessary adjustments, and nearly full set
| of old English script type, which he will exchange for
| best offer.
| MISCELLANEOUS.—Patrick Gallagher, 235 Oak
street, Binghamton, N. Y., has a telescope, book by
| W. H. G. Kingston, two good recitation books, stamps,
puzzle, colored pencils, etc., to exchange for books by
Alger, Ellis, ete., or reading matter. All communica-
|
|
|
tions answered.
STORY PAPERS, ETC.—Otto Hartmann, 2 Wilkin
Street, Rochester, New York, has 800 story papers,
also bound volumes, accordion, ete., to exchange for
| best offer. Send for list. AJso offers in papers.
| MISCELLANEOUS.—F. D.
| street, London, Ontario, has 50 different theater pro-
gramms, 1 Association foot-ball, 1 Wizard’s Manual,
1 copy Burton’s Amateur Actor, 1 Helmer’s Actors’
Make-up Book, l copy ‘April Fools” play, How to |
Keep Pets, copy of the latest songs, copy of Parlor
| Magician, 19 badges, 1 German instructor, and alot of |
| papers, (Goop NEws,) etc., total value $ > to ex-
change for printing press, theatrical goods or best
offer. Would like to hear from William Florstedt,
Newark; A. Mathian, E. Cambridge, or G. D. Lillie,
Staunton, Ul. All letters and cards answered.
PRINTING OUTFIT.—Chas Giesler, 55 Federal
| Street, Allegheny, Pa., has the works of Goethe, and
Schiller, novels, etc., value $100, to exchange for a |
| 6x9 or larger self-inking printing press and outfit. All
| letters answered if stamp is inclosed.
| STAMPS.—Ben L. Morris, Bellaire, Ohio, has 235
United States postage stamps issued before 1890, 20
varieties, to exchange for reading matter.
MISCELLANEOUS.—S. Perlman, 143 Delancey
street, New York city, has snap-shot camera with out-
have the free use of the exchange department and can | Texas, bas twenty 25c. novels, twenty-five Se. and 10c. | articles all brand-new, to exchange for pneumatic
Send stamps to be exchanged or sold.
Secretary, 1171 Harrison street, Chicago, Ill.
Come, come, voys, join the Corn Palace City Goop
News Club. A nice printed list of members and a |
Choice assortment of amateur papers, circulars, etc.,
Sent to all joining. Initiation fee only 6 cents. This
Club has no dues. Address E. F. Molen, secretary,
Sioux City, Iowa.
The Goop News Canoe and Yacht Club would like
to correspond with otber canoe clubs or persons inter-
ested in canoeing. We have just organized and hope
to make a cruise this summer. Address the secretary,
Paul Watkins, 832 Logan avenue, Cleveland, Ohio.
—_—->_1+~>_____-—-
EPARTMENT.
Ay
F XCHANGE
qoMrorranr.—This column is fveeto all our readers.
© will not be responsible for transactions brought
pout through notices in this column, All offers mins
ae Strictly exchange offers. We will not insert any
OY sale” advertiseinents, nor exchanges of fire-arms,
®xplosivyes, dangerous or worthless articles, If exchange
meaces doiot a in a reasonable time, it may be
Pn Cerstood that they were not accepted. Address al)
IUIMinications for this column to “Exchange De-
Partment,"}
.
STEAM ENGINE.—James J. Flynn, 3316 Webster J
venue, Pittsburgh, Pa., has a horizontal steam engine,
ae brass boiler, to exchange for Goop Nrws, or best
or, .
READING MATTER.—T. J. White, Jr., Ripley,
10, has eight “Dream City Portfolios,” in good con-
tion, and several volumes of Goop NrEws, to ex-
Ch: , o : + 7
Offer” for photographic material, 444 by 54, or best
°
inet AMPS AND COINS.—L. T. Hurd, 35 N. Wash-
S Ston avenue, Bridgeport, Conn., has 13c., 3 10c. U.
rs Shin-plasters, 72 war cents, and 5 foreign coins—no
Plicates—to exchange for the 50c. and $1.00 U. 8.
Stamp, last issue. E.
so ISCHLLANEOUS.—Leon M, Flesh, 125 E. Pear-
exon reet, Chicago, has papers, books, and novels to
@ ectrine®, for good steel type. W ill also exchange an
een eC igar-lighter, which cost 340, and has never
large, oO) for a self-inking printing press, 5x8, or
Dlease Those who have good, new type to exchange
Old-faenet him know what they wish forsame. No
. loned type wanted. All communications
wi
Cano LURE CARDS. — William Lavyaroni, care of G.
it 1510 Mason street, San Francisco, Cal., has 300
Offer. © €ards to exchange for 3 50c. novels, or best
m4 * All letters answered.
Looe oS AND PROGRAMMES. —R. M. Halsted,
Offers Woes Fort Dodge, Iowa, would like to receive
R00¢ its birds’ eggs in sets, with data, in exchange for
ign Ste Amps. He will also give 10 all different for-
Stam amps in good condition for every theater pro
a Sent him which has a cover.
hag WCELLANE( JUS.—G. H. Wescott, Caro, Mich.,
; Ye-cent novels for Columbian stamps as follows:
one Nov el for two three-cent, five-cent or ten-cent;
for one c! for one six-cent or eight-cent; four novels
+ fifteen cent; one novel for three four-cent.
S17 :
Pewa WtPS.—Jos. Reiter. 33 Jefferson avenue, Chip-
hayj cs Wis., would like to hear from all persons
Stamps {ne-cent, two-cent or higher United States
~y © exchange. All letters and postals answered.
Bloom PING MATTER.—A. ©. Nadeje, Box 151,
®Xthang N. J., has $10 worth of reading matter to
Bive on for & camera, or best offer. Full particulars
‘ng, heerning the reading matter before exchang-
PRI
Plaing TING PRESS. — Frank B. Downs, Belle
Printing an., has an Excelsior 514x944 self-inking
ue Dlatj Press, of Kelsey Press Co.’s make, to exchange
Ny a“ Outfit, stamps, or best offer.
fet, yAS-—William R. Sheerin, of 222 West 19th
al he Ban York, has three 50c. novels to exchange
80 one 50 Offer in roller-skates, or base-ball set, and
h RAD ©. Novel for best offer in foreign stamps.
an Dley ING MATTER.—J. Slate, Colfax, Wash.,
P.
1 :
Mandoity ! DOYS papers and books to exchange for
‘AY :
1 LAT»
Oo Pena ELIC PAPERS, ETC.—Geo. E. Cleaver,
ares €r)
nigetve Warnee avenue, Reading, Pa., would like to
Sty “tei i nnd duplicate lists of every one who has
"ps, pe “rature to exchange. Can use job lots of
*Novei. P'S, if cheap; 17 different Jesse James
D, TAME. fine condition to exchange.
e : S,—E 4 ¢
We New amund B. Howe, Box 189, Fitzwilliam
~* Sta, ampshire, will give 600 1c., 2c., and 8c.
VorPS andes; 224 10 d¢., de., 5c., 8c., 10¢., 18c, U.S.
4 aa. Columbian 1¢c., 2c., and ten novels for
- ©D NrEws. All letters and postals an-
BATCH A>
Chat bas as) D STAMPS,—F. H. Ewald, Tidioute,
fone fe Fao even-jeweled, key-wind watch to ex-
tay st Offe plleetion of Col, stamps, from $1 to $3, or
bs for Stan old U.S. or Columbian stamps ; also
Mps. All letters and postals answered,
EK. A. Banby, |
|
novels, three song books containing over 100 songs
each, and about fifteen copies of boys’ papers, to ex-
change for any two volumes of Good News, or best
offer in other boys’ papers. All letters answered.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Carl Lundgren, 2948 Butler
street, Chicago, Ill, has 5 5-cent novels, 50 picture
ards, and 10 theater programmes, to exchange for
best offer in Columbian stamps.
PRINTING PRESS.—H. H. Dean, Edmore, Mich.,
has printing press, foot-power, in good condition, with
type, and all O. K. for printing, to exchange for cam-
era, plate-holder preferred. All letters answered.
READING MATTER.—T, B. Stephens, Bingham
Canyon, 8. L. Co., Utah, has novels, Goop Nrws, and
numbers of story papers to exchange for other books,
All communications answered,
MISCELLANEOUS. — Oliver Perry Hazard, No.
302+4 9th street, S. E., Washington, D. C., has 1 magic
lantern, with slides, 5 cloth-bound boys’ books by best
authors, 10 five-cent and 10 twenty-cent novels, 100
mixed stamps, 100 all-colored marbles, 3 agates, 1 pair
roller skates (steel), 1 celluloid mouth-organ, 9 run-
ning numbers GOoD NPws (1891), 1 box paints, 1 Wirt
fountain pen (gold point), and one League base-ball,
to exchange for small self-inking press and two fonts
of type.
NOVELS.—Miss M. F. Crawford, Juno, Ga., has
novels to exchange for other novels. Send list and
receive hers,
MISCELLANEOUS.—W. O. Brown, Dover, N. J.,
has Vols. 1, 2, 3 Goop Nrws, 20 plays, 500 picture
cards, 20 vols. story papers, 500 novels, bound books,
pictures, ticket-punch, musical instruments, and old
coins to exchange for plays, theatrical goods, camera,
or bicycle.. All letters answered.
TYPEWRITER, ETC.—A.F. Kruckman, Equitable
3uilding, 6th floor, 6th and Locust streets, St. Louis,
Mo., basa typewriter, watch-charm, and papers to
exchange for camera, with chemicals and book of in-
structions, or some other offer, camera, &c., and man-
dolin preferred. No stamps nor reading matter. Send
sample of camera work ; will return same favor orf
typewriter. Letters answered, not postais.
STAMPS, ETC.—Charles H. Hulme, 18 Reynolds
street, New Castle, Pa., has alot of foreign stamps,
and 5e. libraries, and other reading matter to trade for
asweater. Write before sending.
READING MATTER.—Thomas Brien, 431 Kent
avenue, Brooklyn, N. Y., has a large number of boys’
papers, story papers, libraries, and 26 stamps, all dif-
ferent, to exchange for best offer in electrical goods.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Robert MaCoy, No. 5 Wiard
street, Batavia, Genesee Co., N. Y., has 1-candle-
power incandescent light complete, with batteries,
worth $3.50, almost new, one three-draw telescope,
and 1 Vol. Goop NEws (10), to exchange for telegraph
instruments, or best offer.
STAMPS.—James V. O’ Hara, 437 Virginia street,
Vallejo, Cal., will give $1 worth of stamps on sheets,
at Scotts’ prices, for every 50c. Columbian ; 100 differ-
ent foreign stamps for a 50c. Columbian ; 3,000 foreign
stamps for best offer in Columbians, or stamp album.
All letters answered.
NOVELS.—Ralph M. Brown, 830 Spring street, Bur-
lington, Iowa, has a new 25-cent novel to exchange
for 6 five-cent novels, or 1 fifty-cent novel for 10 five-
cent novels.
MISCELLANEOUS.—Wm. G. Bishop, Pemberton,
N. J., has 8 volumes Goop Nerws (a few numbers
missing), 250 five and ten cent novels, 5 twenty-five-
cent novels, 2 bound books, 290 picture cards, and 25
penny weekly story papers to exchange for best offer ;
also a Scotts’ stamp album, with five hundred stamps
in it, for the best offer.
READING MATTER.—W. 8S. Triebe, 21 Main
street, Hartford, Conn., has three boys’ books and
Goop NrEws from No. 223 to date to exchange tor Co-
lumbian stamps. Would like to hear from any one
who has Columbian stamps to sell.
MISCELLANEOUS.—B. F. Egan, 24 Roe street,
Indianapolis, Ind., has a mandolin, boys’ papers, and
stamps to exchange for stamps; collectors send sheets
and receive his. All letters answered.
NOVELS.—O. G. Tague, St. Marys, Ohio, has 25c.
and 10c. novels, including ‘‘Nick Carter,’’ comic, ete.,
to exchange for any useful article in electricity; induc-
tion coil preferred. All letters and postals answered,
POST-MARKS.—Philip Vogel, 910 Berryhill street,
Nashville, Tenn., has 2,000 post-marks to exchange for
best offer in stamps.
MISCELLANEOUS.—John Leavitte, Tracy, Minn.,
has a violin and outfit, Waterbury watch, stamps,
coins, and other articles to exchange for magical
goods, taflea, orguitar. Correspondence solicited.
READING MATTER.—J. P. Corcoran, 152 South
Battery street, Burlington, Vt., has $2 worth of splen-
did reading matter in fine condition to exchange for
Vol. 1 of the bound volumes of Goop NrEws in same
condition, Will give $1in cash for same volume in
above-named condition.
MISCELLANEOUS.—E. D. George, Staunton, Ils.,
will exchange 15 25-cent novels, 10 magazines, 10
5 and 10-cent novels, 100 all different foreign stamps,
100 U. S. stamps, 52 very fine cards, 200 picture cards,
15 story papers, and a price list of stamps for best offer.
All letters and postals answered.
Safety bicycle.
STAMPS.—G. F. Yohn, Turner’s Falls, Mass., has
100 United States stamps to exchange for every 100
foreign. A large lot of philatelic papers for mixed
foreign stamps. List free.
CORNET.—Joe Thornton, Blue Hill, Neb., has a
B-flat cornet to exchange for any volume of Goop
News if sent by mail; also “Life of Milton’ to ex-
change for 5 5c. libraries. Send list and receive his,
All letters answered.
STAMPS.—Chas. W. Heins, 13385 Broadway, New
York, has 4 rare United States Columbian silver half
dollars, or 650 different foreign stamps to exchange for
every $1 Columbian stamp in good condition; also
wants other values of same or other issues, for which
he will give proportionate exchange. Send your list of
| stamps and receive his offer on same.
Our Maul Bag.
ore on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the “Mail Bay.” Medical or leyal
questions not answered. Goop News goes to press
two weeks in advance of date of publication, and thei:
| fore auswers cannot appear until two or three weeks
| after we receive them. Conimunications intended for
this columm should be addressed Goop News “Mail
Bay,” P. O. Box 2734, New York City.]
(dee caters:
Ben Hur, Uniontown, Pa.—1. The 1st of September,
1849, fell on Saturday. 2. Itis impossible .to say. 3.
Platinum is abundant in California. 4. There was an
article on this subjectin. the last number of Goop
News. 5. No. .6. It would take too much space to
explain here. 7. Thermo-electricity is electricity gen-
erated by or derived from heat. 8. A list of the long-
est words in the English language was published in
No. 261. 9. There is no premium on the quarters of
1832 or 1833. 10. One way of making invisible ink is
to boil oxide of cobalt in acetic acid. If common salt
be added, the writing becomes green when heated.
11. There are five eclipses of the moon in 1895—
March 10, March 25, August 20, September 3 and 4,
and September 18. The one of September 3-4 will be
visible in the United States. 12. See answer to L. C.
D. 18. Atany school of technology. 14. Your writ-
ing is fair.
Don Kirk, Altoona, Pa.—1. Should Emperor Will-
iam die, he would be succeeded by his eldest son, the
Crown Prince, who is now thirteen. A regency
would be appointed during his minority. 2. Alfred
Armitage writes exclusively for Goop Nrws. His
next story will be one of the times of Napoleon. 3.
Lieutenant Lounsberry is at present in Florida, Write
to him, care of Street & Smith, and we will forward
your letter. 4. The oldest university In the world is
that of Bologna, Italy, which was founded in 1510.
There is a tradition, however, nothing more, that Ox-
ford was founded in 872. 5. The expression ‘Sent
to Coventry’ means to ignore a person’s existence
entirely.
Ralph, Cohasset, Mass.—Good chocolate cream cus-
tards can be made as follows: Scrape two squares of
chocolate and put them into a stewpan with two
ounces of sugar, a pint of milk, and half a pint of
cream ; let it boil till a third of it is consumed, and
when half cold beat up the yolks of six eggs with it;
strain the whole through a sieve, and then put the
small cups or dishes in which the cream is to be
served into a pan containing enough boiling water to
reach above half-way up the cream; cover the pan
and lay fire on the lid; boil it till done, and serve
cool. Chocolate, two squares; sugar, two ounces;
milk, one pint; cream, half-pint; eggs, six yolks,
T. B. W., Sioux City, Iowa.—To make an Molian
harp: Take some wood a quarter of an inch thick,
and make a box the length of a window frame, five
inches deep and seven inches wide. Now bore some
holes in a circle near what will be the upper side of
the back of the box. Put the box into the window
and secure two bridges—just like fiddle bridges—one
to each end, stretching across strings of fine, catgut,
with the help of strong screwing-pins, Tune to one
note, Then pull up the sash when the wind is mak-
ing itself known, and the air passing over the string
and through the holes will produce very charming
and unexpected sounds of music,
L. C D., Ottawa, Can.—There are two ways of re-
moving blackheads. If they are very minute, but
spread over a good part of the face, take a slice of
lemon and rub the part well at night, and bathe it
with warm water in the morning: it will probably
take three or four weeks to remove them in this way,
but lemon-juice rarely failsin effecting a cure. Ifthe
specks are not so numerous, but larger, wash them
with warm water and salt, rub ona little cold cream,
and squeeze them out with the finger-nails.
C. H. F., Lake Forest, Tll.—l. You have probably
already seen the beginning of the new story by Will-
iam Murray Graydon. 2, Itis impossible to say who
is the greatest doctor in the world. 3. Your running
high jump of 4 feet, 5 inches, is remarkably good. 4.
There wasan article on ‘“‘How to Train for Athletic
Sports” in No, 250 of Goop NEws, and Mr. Parks in-
tends to have another shortly. 5. With your height,
you ought to be a little heavier. 6. Yes, we consider
military drill excellent for boys.
New York, has ajiband mainsail boat to exchange |
for a diamond framed, pneumatic tire, 30-inch Safety |
ofa good make and in good condition. Al letters |
Hueston, 292 King |
fit, $10 mandolin with instruction book, German con- |
| certina, $5 gold fountain pen, 100 rare foreign stamps, |
!
/ R. B. J., Montgomery, Ala.—1. The 19th of Janu-
ary, 1857, fellon Monday. 2. “A Young Free Lance’
in in No. 225 and ended in No. 237. 3. Besides
“ Fighting for Freedom,” J. Gibson Perry has written
for Goop News: ‘Out With Commodore Decatur.”
4. The greatest distance walked in an hour.was 8
miles, 302 yards, covered by John Meagher, of New
York city, November 29, 1882.
| WN. &, Trenton, N. J.—The reason February has so
few days is because when the Roman Senate decreed
that the eighth month should be named August after
}; Augustus Ceesar, it took one day from February and
added it to August, which then had only thirty days,
in order that the latter month should not be inferior
to July, which was named for Julius Cesar.
H, B., Guthrie, Okla.—1l. It is perfectly proper to
shake hands with a young lady when introduced. 2:
| There is no reason why a boy of fourteen should not
| call on his girl acquaintances. 8. Your writing and
| spelling are fair. 4. Youare a little above the aver-
age in both weight and height.
J. J. V., Clinton, Mo.—1.
. ) : The color of Harvard
University is crimson, of Yale, dark blue. 2. The
| colors of West Point are black and gray. 3. The cry
of West Point is “Rah! Rah! Ray! Rah! Rah!
Ray! West Point! West Point! Army!’
C. R. A., Boston, Mass.—The first message over
| the first Atlantic cable was sent July 17th, 1858. It
was worded as follows: ‘England and America are
united by telegraph. Glory to God in the highest; on
earth peace, good will toward man.”
| J. L. C, Versailles, Ky.—1. A Japanese yen is
| worth about one dollar. 2. We may have a story laid
in your State. 3. Your writing is wonderfully good
for a boy of sixteen.
| Collector, Minneapolis, Minn.—The story was per-
| fectly true. The silver dollar of 1804 is excessively
rare, and is worth about five hundred dollars, as
| Stated,
H. C. G., Shreveport, La.—l. Some time during the
summer, perhaps. 2. It would scarcely be courteous
for us to express an Opinion upon the subject.
J. W., Cincinnati, Ohio.—You will find full infor-
mation in regard to West Point in an article by Lieu-
tenant Lounsberry in No. 219 of Goop News.
E. £., Philadelphia, Pa.—No, most of the six books
we offered for fifty cents are gone. See advertise-
ment on last page.
Spence, Boston, Mass.—The dime of 1814, if in fine
condition, is worth fifteen cents. Apply to some
dealer in coins.
Young Cattle King, Chicago, T11,—It was in 1886 that
‘Silver Cloud” won the American Derby at Washing-
ton Park.
»G. A. B., Philadelphia, Pa.—There is no premium
on the quarter of 1854 or the dime of 1857, :
W. G., Corning, N. Y.—Please send us your full ad-
dress. A letter to you has been returned.
L. C. £., Bellows Falls, N. H.—yYes.
catalogue.
F. E. J., Keokuk, Iowa.—No premium.
Write for
[Several communications leff over to be answered neat
week, |
————_~>— e-—_
THE PRODIGAL SON.
A short time ago a boy ran away from
home, and his parents, being too poor to go
after him, asked the minister’s assistance,
who, after considerable trouble, found him,
and in his efforts to persuade him to return,
quoted the parable of the Prodigal Son—how
his father fell on his neck and wept, and
afterward killed the fatted calf.
‘“‘Do you think my father will kill the
fatted calf for me?’’ asked the boy.
‘‘Of course he will, if you. will but go
home,’’ answered the minister.
The lad thereupon decided to return. A
few days afterward the two met.
‘‘Well,’’? said the minister, ‘‘did your
father fall on your neck and weep?’’
‘‘No, I don’t think he wept,’’ answered
the boy.
‘‘Did he kill the fatted calf?’’
‘*No, he didn’t,’’ was the reply; ‘‘but he
very nearly killed the piodigal son.’’
—~<+—_+<___—__
WHERE BIG NOSES ARE ADMIRED.
In Japan the nose is the only feature
which attracts attention. The nose deter-
mines the beauty or ugliness of a face, ac-
cording as it is big or small.
This is probably due to the fact that
difference in noses constitutes about the only
distinction between one Japanese face and
another. The eyes are invariably black, the
cheek-bones high, and the chin receding.
In Japan a lady who. bas a huge proboscis
is always a raging beauty and a reigning
belle. There are few large noses among the
natives, and lucky is he or she upon whom
nature lavishes one.
In all Japanese pictures representing the
supposedly beautiful women the artist turns
himself loose on the nose.
9 ————__—
AN UNEXPECTED REPLY.
‘“‘T am sure I shall die an early death,”’
remarked a young lady teacher in a public
school, the other day. ‘‘I have a class of
boys; unruly little urchins they are, too.
They worry me continually. The other day,
during the lesson in grammar, I read out
the sentence, ‘What can you do that I can-
not do?’ and a little urchin jumped up and
shouted, ‘Play leap frog!’ Then there was a
general laugh. I bit my lip, frowned, and
ordered him to sit down, but I felt like
caning that boy severely.’’
—_————___~3-0--@_
Jack and Tom, when they first went to
school, were asked what were their names.
Tom, who was first, replied:
‘Tora, aire?
‘*You should not say that, my boy.
should say Thomas.
Jack determined that he would not make
the mistake, and when he was asked, proudly
replied:
You
** Jack-ass.’?
+a pera. oS
GOooD NEWS.
APRAIRIE WHISTLE FREE.
A Punch and Judy Show and an imitator of
every beast or bird. Goes under the tongue and
makes more noise than a locomotive. A sample
of our 1000 Bargains sent free with large Cata-
and placed upon an ‘even footing with the
|common herd. Stray dogs might now per-
S | ambulate even this exclusive block with ears
and tails erect!
Bs a.
r =t CONTINUED. logue for 6e. to cover mailing, &c.
GAS Rou (10; BE: GO ames R. H. Ingersoll & Bro, 6 Cortlandt St. N.Y, CITY
; carne on ent aa = iention Good News.
{vu (2 : 7 i , So Rios ST PONY. SE AE
“