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Entered According to Act of Congress, in the .Year 1896, by Street & Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.
Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York, N.Y., Post-Ofice,

 

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Vol. 13. af Rona into | Raw OTK New York, October 10, 1896. ein gee aes No. 336.
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is : ZZ 5 ——S <E LEAD a
SE : SZ td Pee

LAD ELECTRIC’S TRIP
His Tricks, Triumphs, and Travels in Foreign Fields.

By BARRY TALLYHO,

Author of ‘Lad Electric.”

 

(“LAD ELECTRIc’s TRIP ABROAD,” was commenced last week.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. him to inflict a shock of electricity by a simple
" hand clasp, whenever he takes a notion to.
The steamship Etruria of the Cunard line is | Soon after the vessel sails Lad, who is of a mis-
about to depart for Europe. The pier is crowded chievous, fun-loving disposition, proceeds to
with cheering boys, pupils of Shady Haven | put the “Terrible Touch” into operation to the
Academy, who have come to wish a pleasant | terror of a dude and the amazement and amuse-
voyage to two of their companions. The latter | went of the rest of the passengers. That even-
are Ladley Harehurst and Chauncey Jay. | ing Lad and Chauncey, when strolling on deck,
With them are Ladley’s sister Nell, his guar-| come across a young lady who is being un-
> dian, Professor Sorghum, and the latter’s wife, | noyed by a tall, dark man, whom they hear her

formerly Anastasia Higgins. Ladley is com-| address as Mr. Bissera. Bissera is. insisting
Lap LAY DOWN ON HIS CHEST, AND STRETCHED HIS NECK DOWNWARD. CHAUNCEY monly known as Lad Electric, because he is | that she shall marry hin

: 1, and when she re-
AND BIRD EACH CAUGHT HOLD OF AN ANKLE. the possessor of a certain power that enables | fuses, maddened with anger, he seizes her, de-

 

 

 

 
2

 

   

Cra

   

NEWS.

 

 

claring that he will throw her overboard. With
a bound Lad springs upon him and applies the

full force of the “Terrible Touch.” Bissera,
with a yell of pain, releases the girl and stag-
gers back, powerless. The two boys conduct
the young lady to her stateroom, while Bissera
glares after them, muttering, vindictively: ‘‘I
have heard of you, Mr. Lad Electric. We shall
meet again.”

CHAPTER IV.
THE PROFESSOR’S EPITAPH.

T the conclusion of Lad’s story the
boys indulged in a hearty laugh.

‘*Wirst time I ever heard of cod-

liver oil as a matrimonial factor,’’
said Chauncey.

‘*It was an effective dose,’? commented
Lad. ‘‘Hello, we’re off Sandy Hook. The
pilot will go over soon.’’

The two advanced to the rail, and stood
watching the scene around them. Behind
their backs the gay costumes-of women and
the more sombre ones of mén kept up an
endless procession on the promenade deck.

Presently a boat ran up alongside the
steamship and the pilot went over the side
into her. Then the little craft put off, and
was soon tossing a mere cockleshell among
the huge waves, astern of the giant
Cunarder.

Many eyes followed its course. It was the
last tie between themselves and native land.

The chums promenaded a while. Then the
dinner hour approached, and they made
their way to the dining saloon.

‘*{ wonder if we get a seat at the cap-
tain’s table,’’ said Lad. ‘‘I saw the chief
saloon steward and fixed him. He said it
would be all right.’’

‘*Then it is, ain’t it??? asked Chauncey.

‘*You’re verdant, old man. He tells so
many people that, when he’s taking tips,
that half the saloon passengers expect to sit
at that table. But the snoozer swore up ard
down that he wouldn’t go back on me, and
if he does I vow I’ll give him a taste of the
Terrible Touch !’’

Lad’s’ apprehensions proved unfounded,
however, for they found their entire party
assigned to places at the table presided over
by the captain.

Their party comprised, besides Lad, Chaun-
cey, Ella, and Professor Sorghum and _ his
blushing bride, a personage not yet intro-
duced.

This was a gentleman very tall, and with
a long, fierce mustache, and rakish air. He
was the famous—in his own estimation—
Adjutant Bird, of whom more anon.

Indeed, we will let the gentleman speak
for himself, as he is in the habit of doing so.

The adjutant sat next to Lad. The meal
bad not proceeded far when our hero noticed
hin, pricking up his ears at the remarks of
two men on the other side of him.

They were discoursing of some personal
exploits, and Lad mentally set down Baron
Munchausen as a novice beside them.

The attention of the other diners at the
table became attracted to them.

‘*Yes,’’ remarked the speaker at that mo-
ment. ‘‘It was out West, and the redskins
were after me hot-foot. There were just six
of them, and I was in a tight place. My
horse stumbled, broke his leg, and couldn’t
get up again. I started to run with all
my might, but I thought my time was
come.

‘‘Suddenly I came to a narrow gorge
spanned by a single log right before me. 1
rushed across, then turned at bay. I had but
one shot left, but was determined to sell my
life as dearly as possible.’’

Interest in the narration was now at
fever heat.

‘*Hxtracting the cartridge from my re-
volver, I inserted a charge of powder, then
put it back again.

‘*The reds came on. Owing to the single-
log bridge, they had to abandon their horses
and cross on footi.

‘*T waited til) they were all on the log.
each directly behind or in front of another,
Then I raised my revolver and fired.

‘*My calculations were correct, and it
happened as I expected. Directed with un-
erring aim, the bullet passed clean through
the hearts of the whdle six, one after
another, and they all went whirling, dead,
down into thesgorge.’’

For several moments after the conclusion
of the narrative, there wasasolemn silence,
as the listeners looked from one to another,
then back at the veracious story-teller.

Finally a man farther down the table
exclaimed :

‘‘Sir, do you mean to give that out as an
actual occurrence?’’

‘¢ Actual occurrence! Why, of course I do!
Was I not there myself as a_ participant?’’

‘*Oh, yes; that is nothing at all,’? broke
in Adjutant Bird, who had been growing
very restive during the progress of the
other’s narration. ‘‘It isn’t a marker to a
little affair that happened some years ago to
myself and my old friend, the Czar of
Russia.’’ 8

Instantly the attention of all at. the table
was attracted to the redoubtable Bird.

The matter-of-fact mention of ‘‘my old
friend, the Czar of Russia,’’ was sufficient
to arouse interest and curiosity.

The adjutant responded to the gazes be-
stowed upon him with a complacent smile.
He was not at all embarrassed, nor was _ his

 

| composure disturbed in the least by the
| attention he had excited.

In truth, it was with that purpose that he
had spoken.

The narrator of the Indian romance, how-
ever, did not appear greatly pleased. It was
not palatable to have the superior extraor-
dinariness of his own (?) experience so soon
disputed.

‘*‘What do you mean?’’ he demanded,
turning upon the smiling adjutant and
speaking with a savage intonation. ‘‘Do
you intend to say you can beat that?’’

‘*Beat itl’? said Mr. Bird, dismissing the
doubt of such a thing, as it were, from his
mind with a lordly waveof hisarm, ‘‘Why,
that is a simple matter. It is the work of a

 

novice, au amateur. Wait till I give you
something, and you will see-the hand of the
true artist.’’

4 3 Do you mean to insinuate, sir, that I
ie?’

‘‘No, sir, not in the least. Nothing was
further from my intention. It is apparent
to us all present that you do not lie; you
Slt.

The other glowered upon him fiercely, but
did not attempt further verbal response.

Paying no more heed to him the adjutant
—with acapital A, as he frequently re-
marked—leaned back in his chair, and with
a pretentious air, prepared to begin his
story.

‘‘It was one winter several years ago that
the czar and I, in company with a Russian
nobleman named Count Koloffsky, were out
in a sledge wolf-hunting. We got the wolves
after us, and soon had a big pack in our
rear.

‘‘The driver laid the lash across the
horses’ backs, and they plunged on at head-
long speed. We stood up in the sledge and
began to pop away at the wolves.

‘*The czar was a splendid shot, and so
was the count. As for me, I can cut a hair
at eighty paces. So we knocked over a few
in a hurry.

‘*T began to feel rather excited, for wolf-
hunting is a pretty dangerous sport. You
are not only hunting the wolves, but at the
same time they are hunting you.

‘*Well, we kept on dashing abead, and
continued popping over the gaunt beasts in
our rear, and presently the czar turned
around to me and observed:

** *Y say, old man, ain’t this bully sport?’ ”’

‘*Do you mean to say,’’ demanded the
narrator of the former story, whose name
was the not uncommon one of Jones, ‘‘that
the ezar would talk like that?”’

‘*Not to you, of course,’’ retorted the ad-
jutant, with a lofty look of disdain. ‘‘But
toa person of my extraordinary attain-
ments, and one with whom he was on such
terms of intimacy, it wasa matter of course
for him fo throw off all official restraint and
unbosoimn himself.’?

This explanation seemed to squelch Jones
for the time. He subsided again, and Bird
resumed :

‘*So the czar remarked:

*¢ ‘T say, old man, ain’t this bully sport?’

‘¢ ‘Hirst rate, Aleck,’ I said. ‘Seems to
be a little exciting, though.’

‘** You bet your boots,’ asserted the czar,
‘These nags ain’t the stayers I thought they
were, and the wolves are hauling up on us.’

‘*Sure enough, they were. The gaunt,
hungry beasts were overtaking us, and soon
were right in the rear of the sledge.

‘* ‘Now, by the beard of Peter the Great!’
cried the czar, ‘if that lazy, good-for-noth-
ing son-of-a-sea-cook of a driver allows
these wolves to overtake and eat us, [’ll
bounce him off to Siberia in two shakes of
a knout!’

‘*T pointed out that he might find some
difficulty in. carrying out this project
should he first become wolf meat, but 1
knew his intentions were good.

‘* ‘It isa plot of the accursed Nihilists,
little father,’’ said the trembling driver.
‘For the two thoroughbreds I picked out for
the hunt they substituted a couple of winded

ags.

‘* ‘Well, by the beard of Ivan the Terri-
ble!’? cried the czar; ‘I’m glad to hear that
at last some of those Nibilistic blowers are
earning their salary. I’ve been looking for
a blowing up from them for a good while.
By the way, how is that, old chap?’

‘* ‘fa, ha, ha! That’s a dandy, Al! Best
thing [’ve heard in a century! Ha, ha, ha!’
I answered,

‘*The czar seemed pleased to see that I ap-
preciated his ready wit. He was a jocose
fellow, and would have his little joke even
in the face of death.

‘*But matters soon reached a critical
state. The wolves had overtaken us fast, and
were now right in our rear, We expected
every moment to see them leap into the
sledge.

‘*Indeed, one of them did jump in, but
the czar, ‘who was a man of wonderful
physical strength, seized his distended jaws
and tore them apart.

‘¢ “There, he won’t jaw at me again!’ he
said, ‘How’s that, Birdy?’

‘¢ *Rest thing I’ve heard in two cen-
turies!’ 1 answered, ‘Ha, ha, ha! You get
funnier every day, Al!’

‘*But the wolves pressed round us, and
there was imminent danger that they would
leap on the horses. Something must be done,

 

and at once.
‘¢ ‘Your majesty, I will leap over into

 

their midst,’ said the Count Koloffsky,
speaking for almost the first time.

** *And sacrifice yourself for your mon-
arch! Noble deed!’ exclaimed the czar. ‘It
shall not go unrewarded. Your descendants
shall be loaded with gold and honors, and
if we can scrape up any of your bones after
the wolves have picked them clean, I will
myself see that they are given a grand
burial.’

‘¢ ‘Thanks, your imperial majesty,’ said
the count. ‘Your goodness is overpowering,’
and with the words over he jumped.

‘*We saw him in the midst of the wolves,
which leaped and snarled about him on
every side.

‘‘They did not pursue the sledge farther,
and so we easily escaped to safety.

‘*Next day we went back to scrape up the
bones of the count. But they were not there
to be scraped up, and we were reluctantly
forced to the conclusion that the wolves had
devoured bones and all.

‘‘T held to this belief until, three days
later I met the count in St. Petersburg.

‘‘Of course, I was amazed to learn that
he had escaped, but the explanation was
simple enough. He had exercised the won-
derful power of the.human eye over wild
animals, and had readily managed to quell
the ravenous beasts.’’

And the adjutant
though to say:

‘“*There, how is that?’?’

‘*Humph!’’ sneered Jones; ‘‘so he quelled
?em with the power of the human eye, did
he???

‘*He did, sir,’’ replied the adjutant,
sweetly.

‘*The wolves, you said, were all around
him???

‘They were.’

‘Then how,’’ demanded Jones, with the
triumphant air of one who puts a_ poser,
‘Show was it that while he was holding his
eyes on one the rest did not tear him to
pieces???

‘*The explanation is simple enough. The
count, I had forgotten to remark, was
afflicted with strabismus. To use the more
vulgar expression, he was cross-eyed. Hence,
when he looked at them, each individual
wolf thought the look was intended for him,
and did not dare to move. Have I made it
plain?’?’

‘*You have!’’ was the general cry, while
a shout of laughter ran round the table,

The envious Jones collapsed, completely
crushed. The adjutant leaned back in his
chair and looked aroun: with a smile on his
face, and an air of conscious triumph.

Dinner over, Lad and Chauncey returned
to the promenade deck. It was exhilarating
to stroll along, with the bracing breath
of the Atlantic blowing against their
cheeks,

With all his frivolous and joking propensi-
ties there was yet a deeper side to our hero.
He could appreciate the splendors of nature,
and looked over the rail with keen enjoy-
ment of the beauty of the evening.

The sun was dipping into the west, and
the moon stealing up in the east, while un-
derneaththem the sea was turning from
gold to silver.

It was late that night before Lad and
Chauncey retired to the elegantly fitted-up
state-room reserved for themselves and the
adjutant, and turned in.

The next morning at the breakfast table
some of the party were missing.

‘¢*Hello!’? exclaimed Lad; ‘‘where’s the
hilarious bridal couple?’’

‘tT believe they are suffering from mal
demer,’’ replied Ella, to whom the question
was addressed.

‘*Here’s a lark!
them, Nell.’’

‘*You heartless wretch, have you no feel-
ing?’?

‘*A feeling that the Higgins, that used to
be, must be a sight worth looking at sea-
sick. Come on, Chance.’’

The chums made their way to the state-
room of the newly married pair.

They found them lying in their berths,
and certainly very ill.

Seas the berths, Lad asked:

‘*Well, what’s the word?”’

‘*Oh, Ladley, dear Ladley, farewell, for-
ever!’’ groaned the professor.

‘¢*Warewell, Ladley! You have often
caused me annoyance, but I can have no
animosities in these last moments,’’ moaned
the new Mrs. Sorghum.

‘¢ Any last requests?’ asked Lad, solemnly,
with a wink at Chauncey.

‘*See that they embalm my—my remains,
Ladley, dear boy, and have them carried
back to America. Bury me in Greenwood.
Let a marble shaft be erected o’er my grave,
with this inscription:

‘¢ «Here lie the remains of Aristotle Sorg-
bum, famous as a scientist, philosopher,
philanthropist, scholar of much learning
and many attainments. He died on the
ocean blue, but it was his dying request
that his body be brought back for interment
in his loved native land.’ ”’

‘‘Humph! is that all??? remarked Lad.
‘*Reckon 1’d better hunt up a stenographer
and get him to take it down. But what
makes you play so light on it, unc? You’re
too modest by half.’

‘*Do you think so, Ladley? Well, if you
think of anything else you may put it in.’’

‘*All right, unc.’?

looked «around as

I must go down and see

 

‘‘Let me see. There is distinguished. We
haven’t got that, have we???

‘6No,??

‘*Well, it can be brought in. Then there
is illustrious. ’’

¢Vas,7?

‘*You might also put sagacious and far-
seeing statesman.’’

‘CAll right.”’

‘*Worthy citizen.’’

‘6 Vos,”?

‘*Credit to his country; I like that.”’

‘*Good idea, une! It shall be done.”’

‘*Also, ornament of the century. I think
that is a good suggestion.’’

‘‘Same here, une. I’m with. you,’’

‘*Whose fame shall go ringing down the
ages.’’

‘*Jesso,”?

‘‘No; make that
achievements.’ ”’

““T twig.””

‘*In the advancement of mankind.’?

‘‘Just as you say, unc. I'll fix you up all
right. Ill lay you on the hillside, and see
that your grave’s kept green.’’

‘fame and_ glorious

CHAPTER V.
ONE NIGHT ON THE PROMENADE DECK.

 
 

your dying wishes?”’

‘*Bury me in the grave with dear
Aristotle,’’ she said, faintly. ‘‘Let the in-
scription upon my tombstone be, ‘Faithful
unto the end. In life they were together,
and in death they would not be divided.’
Eh, dear Aristotle?’’ ;

The professor groaned out a barely audi-
ble affirmative.

‘*She froze on to him in life, and hung o2
to her grip like death to a blind nigger:
That’s the idea, eh?’’ said Lad,
another wink at his chum. “

Leaning over his guardian, he said, in 4
faint whisper, in his ear:

‘Say, unc, couldn’t you muster up
strength enough to creep upon deck and gel
away from the gentle Mrs. 8. for a while?’

‘She won’t let me go,’’ was the answéel;
in the same tone.

‘‘What are you talking about??? demanded
Anastasia, suspiciously. ;

‘*‘Nothing,’’ said Lad. ‘‘I was telling him
to brace up.’’

He began to ponder on what means hé@
should adopt to get his uncle away.

Fortunately, circumstances solved
problem for him.

‘*Oh, oh, how sick I am!’’ suddenly ©:
claimed Anastasia, turning over towar
the wall. :

Prompted by a significant look in bis
nephew’s eye, the professor made haste t
get out of the berth.

Then Lad saw that he was fully dressed:
He had started to get up in the mornilg
when the attack had suddenly come upo?

the

im.

‘Oh, oh, how sick I feel!’ he exclaimed,
reeling to and fro, unsteadily.

“Want to go back to Anastasy?’’ asked
Lad.

‘‘No, no; anything to get away from
her!??

‘¢All right; Chance and I will give you 4
hand.’’

The boys supported him on either side.

**Oh, I wish I were dead!’ d

‘‘Better go back to the berth,’’ suggeste
Lad, slyly.

‘‘No, no; I’ll crawl on deck if it kills me?

Anything to get away from that woman fo!

a while!’’ :

Assisted by the boys, he managed {
make his way on deck, and they fixed bi? 4
comfertably in a steamer chair. yo

‘¢Now,’’ said Lad, ‘‘let’s skip back again-
Chauncey looked at him open-eyed.

y
“OW, Anastasy,’’ said Lad, with 4
brisk, business-like air, ‘Show about ~

with

  
   
  
   
 
  

a]
i)
oo"

cy

aa

    
  

‘‘What are you up to now?’’ he asked. i a

“‘The knowledge you don’t possess WO} yi”

burden your mind, old man. [ma phys {

cian, and,I’ve gone into the business of ¢U
ing people of seasickness. Come along, 4”
watch the interesting operation.’’
Knowing there was amusement, at
in the air, Chauncey went. d
On re-entering the state-room, they fou?

d

Mrs. Sorghum lying on her back, and groa”” —

ing:
Ron, oh, how bad I feel! I shall die
know I shall die!’’

‘‘How are things, Anastasy?’’ said J

“Oh, bad, awful bad! I‘know I sh@™
die!’

“She's pretty sick,’? said Chauncey:
‘(Better tell the stewardess to come in.’ ‘a

‘Stewardess nothing! You let me med
age this case, old man. What will you
that I don’t have her on deck in five
utes?’?’

‘¢You can’t do it.”?’

‘¢What do you say if I do it?’’

ia

)
e.

‘‘T?]] believe it when I see 1t—not befor for 4

‘All right; keep your eyes peeled

developments.’? - a

Again Lad turned to Anastasia.
‘*So you’re dying, eh?’’ he said.
‘*Yes, yes; let me die!’’

‘*Too bad. Dandy thing for the professo™ 1

though.”?
Anastasia did not reply, save to moan:
“‘Oh, I want to die! I want to die!
‘All right; you can die fast enough.

   

mide 7

one |

  
    

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“TOOD

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_ professor is baving lots of fun, and will be
quite satisfied.’’

‘‘Oh, dear, oh, dear!
only wish I could die!’

‘*While the professor is on deck getting a
mash on that gay young blonde, eh?”?

Anastasia turned over, and, opening her
eyes, languidly looked at Lad for a moment
or two. Then, seeming to suddenly compre-
hend, she exclaimed: ‘

‘‘What! the professor—my husband—on
deck mashing a handsome blonde! Is that
what you said?”’

‘‘Oh, never mind, Anastasia.
sick if needn’t matter to you.’’

‘* Mashing a handsome blonde, eh? The old
deceitful scallawag and reprobate! I’ll go
up and see about that!’’

‘You’re too sick; you’re just going to
die.”’

‘‘Am I? Well, I’ll have strength enough
left to crawl out and pull some of the hair
out of that woman’s head! And him, too!
Oh, the false old villain! On deck with a
handsome blonde! You get out of this
room, Lad Harehurst. I’m going to get right
up, and J’ll go out on deck if it kills
me !??

Lad and Chauncey beat a hasty retreat.

‘‘What do you say now, Chance? The
magic elixir works.”’

‘* You beat the old Harry himself.’

Presently the door of the state-room
opened, and Anastasia made her appear-
ance. She walked as straight and erect as a
soldier, with jealous determination, and
made her way out on deck.

‘*Oh, you base deceiver! you basest of the
base! Mashing a handsome blonde, axe you?
I’1] téach you how to mash when your poor
wife is lying at the point of death!’

The astounded professor looked up _help-
lessly at the female tornado of wrath that
had suddenly swooped down upon him,

*‘Oh, you base man! Where is_ that
blonde? where is she, till I pull her hair out

_ by the*roots?’’

‘Blonde? What blonde? I know of no
blonde,’? said the professor.

‘*That blonde you were mashing, you old

- deceiver !’’
‘‘Mashing? I have not been trying to
«mash any one. I am no masher, madame !??

**Don’t tell me! Didn’t you leave your

loving wife when she was at the point of
- death???

The professor colored, and was at a_ loss
what tio say, for he knew he was guilty.

‘+J_J—er—dear—I did not know you were
so bad. I was not very well myself, and

thought a turn on deck would do me good,”’

"Oh, you old humbug and hypocrite!
Don’t tell me! You thought I was too sick

_ to watch you, and wanted to get rid of me.
But you won’t! I?ll sit right down here and
‘keep my eye on you, and if I see that
_ blonde, I'l] make a war map of Europe on
her face with my finger-nails—yes, and on
yours, too.’’

How bad I feel! I

You’re so

With that Anastasia plumped herself down:

into a seat beside her lord and master (?).

_ She continued to pour her diatribe on his
despicable conduct into his ears, but as it

_Wwas mainly a round of repetitions, the boys
soon wearied of the scene, and walked off,

_ leaving the professor the picture of woe. In
one respect, Lad’s ruse was effective, how-
éver, for neither of them complained of sea-
- Sickness again, and put in appearance regu -
larly at the table at the proper times.,

It was one night, subsequently, when they
Were three days out, that a_ startling

_ adventure happened to Lad.

_ He and Chauncey were out on the prom-
enade deck late at night, chatting carelessly
on various topics. The night was rather

_ dark, and there were not many promenaders
abroad.

Presently conversation between the chums
ied out, and they paced slowly along, the
nfluence of the night and the ocean mak-

Ing itself felt strongly upon them, as it in-

_ 8Vitably does on natures at all susceptible.

_ The great broad sweep of the Atlantic

Stretched away on every side as far as the
8ye could reach. To landsmen, like our
boys, the ship seemed to have a regular see-
Saw motion.. Now the bows rose with a
Sweep, now they sank again as the vessel]
Plunged into an advancing wave; up and
a wn, up and down, and ever forging ahead,

h the unceasing, untiring play of the

Machinery. ‘
In calm weather there is always one vast

Swell, and in time of wind or storm, the.

Scene is both grand and terrible.
“Well, Chance,’? said Lad, presently,
et’s turn in.”?
hey raat to} Ik toward their state
6y turned to walk towar eir state-
oom, j 4
That portion of the promenade was de-
Serted by all save themselves; but suddenly
4 man appeared before them,
_,.here he had dropped from it was hard
to tell; but his unexpected advent was so
iggestive of stealthy following and spying,
that a thrill of alarm shot across the hearts
Of the boys.
Instinctively they threw up their hands
ward off an impending danger.
ca was well that they did so, The next in-
i nt something bright gleamed in the dim
ht, and came straight for Lad’s breast.
a A knife, by thunder!’? he cried, and
yoluntarily drew back.
Ho had barely time to comprehend the

 

nature of the attack when the deed
over.

The vicious thrust of the keen blade in
the hand of the large, powerfully built man
who held it could hardly have failed its pur-
pose had not the quick upward knock of
Lad’s arm diverted the would be assassin’s
arm.

His hand was thrown up, so that the knife
missed Lad entirely, and passed clean over
his shoulder.

‘*Kuchred !’? exclaimed our hero, exult-
antly. ‘‘Now for the Terrible Touch.”’

He made'a grab at his assailant, and
Chauncey seconded the effort. But the as-
sassin had already withdrawn, seeing his
first attack had failed.

He stood for the briefest space of time
irresolute, as though disposed to renew it.
But the boys’ assuming the aggressive,
seemed to decide him.

He turned and fled precipitately, and the
boys bounded in swift pursuit.

With a sudden throwing out of his hand,
Lad caught one end of the assassin’s coat.

‘*Hurrah! I’ve caught the snoozer!’’ he
exclaimed.

His exultation was premature, however.
A sudden jerk on the part of the fugitive,
and the garment, which was’ evidently old
and rotten, parted. Then, with a spurt, the
assassin left them behind, and disappeared
in the darkness.

The whole incident had transpired so sud-
denly that it was oyer before the boys knew
it. The man was gone, the promenade was
quiet as before, and they were left with
nothing but the torn piece of cloth in Lad’s
hand to assure them that ‘the whole occur-
rence had not been a dream.

was

CHAPTER VI.
KISSING THE BLARNEY STONE.

ELL, 1’1l be hanged!?’ said Lad.
‘‘Great Cesar! that was an
attempt at murder, wasn’t it???
was Chauncey’s exclamation.

*¢Rather.’’

‘*What did he do it for?”’

‘*1?m stumped.’?

The same thought was in both boys’
minds.

‘Wonder if it was Bissera?”’

“Give it up. Might have been; but if it
was I didn’t recognize him.’ :

‘*Let’s rush off and find the captain.’’

They did so, and that official listened to
their statement with amazement and in-
credulity. He pooh-poohed the whole thing
at first, and scouted the idea of such an
occurrence taking place on board the Etruria.
He was strongly of the opinion that the
boys had been dreaming, or were trying to
hoax him, lon

They stuck to their story so persistently,
however, adducing as proof the torn frag-
ment of the garment in Lad’s fingers that
he finally consented to order an investiga-
tion.

But it was without result. No one remem-
bered having seén a man such as the boys
described. Indeed, they had caught such a
momentary glimpse of him, and the scene
of the attack had been so dark, that they
could only give a general description, which
might apply to one out of every ten of the
Etruria’s passengers.

There was one discrepancy in the story,
in the torn piece of cloth Lad had captured.
It was old, rotten, and of poor material. It
seemed very improbable that a person in
such poor circumstances as ownership of
the coat indicated would have access to the
promenade of the first-class passengers.

Still, of course, the idea was permissible
that the wearer of the garment might have
obtained it solely for the occasion.

But what dealt a stronger blow to the
boys’ story was the testimony of one of the
ship’s officers. ,He claimed he had been on
the shade deck, just above the promenade,
where the attack was said to have occurred,
and had heard nothing of Lad’s outcries or
the flying footfalls of the assassin and the
boys, as they pursued him.

On hearing this statement the captain
utterly declined to proceed any further in
the matter, expres strong disbelief in
the actuality of the occurrences, Lad and
Chauncey, however, needed no further proof
of its reality. They wondered if it, were
Bissera. They encountered that one-time
insane lover occasionally, but as they had
no proot refrained from accusing him.

Of his love-mad exploit they had not
spoken, in obedience to the request of.the
object of his affection, who was Miss Minnie
Chase, a New York banker’s daughter.

But though, despite the protests of Ella
and the others of the party, Lad conrted an
attack by haunting the promenade deck the
remaining nights of the run across, he did
not receive another call from his secret foe.

It is not, necessary to further particularize
on the voyage, nor have we the space to
spare for such a purpose.

The Etruria made one of her famous quick
passages—those record-breaking. trips by
which the Cunard, American, and other lines
have done so much of late years to cut down
the distance from the old world to the new,
as it were.

Théy came off Queenstown in a fog, and
a tender came out for the passengers who
wished to land at that port.

4

 

Among these were our party.

‘‘Hooray for the Emerald Isle!’’ cried
Lad. ‘‘Old Oireland foriver!’?’

‘‘Don’t make a fool of yourself,’’ ex-
claimed Ella, nettled by the amused smiles
of the other passengers.

‘*What’s the matter, Nell?
back on the old sod, are you?

Ain’t going

‘*Remember that you’re Irish, sis;
Was born on Irish soil;
That yez father was a Flanigan
And yez mother was a Doyle!”’

Ella subsided, seeing that expostulation
only encouraged ‘her incorrigible brother.

They embarked on the tender, from the
deck of which little craft the Ntruria
loomed up huge and gigantic, as she put
about for her final destination of Liverpool.

‘*Oh, Aristotle, my lovey-dovey,’’ gushed
Anastasia, with a melting smile; ‘‘it does
not seem possible that that great, strong
ship could have been pitched about so, and
made us so sick, does it?’’

‘*No, it does not, Anastasia, dear.’’

This affectionate appellation does not
mean that the professor was growing more
tender toward his spouse, but rather that
she had been taking him in hand in some
matters in which she considered his educa-
tion had been neglected.

The professor was already experiencing
the woes of a ‘‘henpecked’’ husband. The
probabilities were that in time he would be
trained down as fine as his strong-willed
partner desired.

‘*Oh, it was awful, lovey, wasn’t it. I
was afraid J should lose you. And you
wanted to lose me—yes, you did; don’t you
dare to deny it, you deceiver !’’ ®

Anastasia had not forgotten the affair of
the mythical ‘‘handsome blonde.’?

‘*But you sha’n’t lose me, Aristotle; no,
indeed, you sha’n’t!”?

‘*You can’t lose me, Charlie!’’ sang out
Lad, with a wink at Chauncey.

But Anastasia took uo further heed of
him than to give vent to a snort of disdain,
and hooking her arm within that of the
professor, held him a secure prisoner.

The tender steamed up toward the wharf,
and Lad remarked:

‘*She pitches about a good deal in the
waves, don’t she???

‘*Ye-yes!’’ stammered the adjutant, as at
that moment his feet shot from under him,
he’ sat down with much force, and slid
along on the sloping deck to bring up in the
scuppers, where a barrelful of water poured
over and drenched him,

The boys indulged in a hearty laugh as
they assisted him to his feet.

‘*Thought you had your sea legs on by
this time, adj,’? remarked Lad.

‘*Yes, yes; just a little slip,’’ replied
Bird, managing to gain an unsteady foot-
ng. ‘‘It’s nothing at all. Reminds, me of

little incident the-time I was shipwrecked
in company with my old chum, the king of
the north pole.’’

‘“Great Scott!
Lad.

‘*T will tell you the story some other
time.”’

‘*Another chapter in the ‘Thrilling and
Actual Exploits and Occurrences in the Life
of the Great A. Bird,’ eh? Well, let her go,
it'll keep.’?

In a few more minutes they were at the
wharf, and with exclamations of relief
found themselves on terra firma again, with
three thousand miles of ocean tossing
between them and old New York.

Their stay at Queenstown was not a long
one. After breakfast they had a look around
the quaint city, with it streets like steps,
each higher than another. They then took
the train for Cork. ‘

The road was through a lovely country
green with verdure, the air filled with the
fragrance of the fresh earth, and the hedges

what was that?’’ asked

‘all alive with twittering sparrows.

All felt the joy of being’on shore again.
The footing did not slide from beneath their
very steps, and in place of the monotonous
expanse of heaving blue the greensward,
fresh and bright, lay spread out in pleasant
fields, broken by the soft dun of the half
moss-covered stone walls and the great
brown trunks of the trees.

On arriving at Cork they engaged quar-
ters at the Royal Victoria Hotel, and then
Lad had the floor. ©

He hurried out and made arrangements
with the driver of a jaunting-car to take
them to the celebrated Blarney Castle, and
presently the party set out.

The day was a pleasant one, and in such
weather the jaunting-car was a delightful
vehicle of travel, was nicely cushioned, and
the six members of our party (for Lad had
insisted on the company of all of them) sat
back to back, three facing each side.

As there was no covering or top to the
vehicle, nothing obstructed a clear view of
the passing landscape.

The ride to Blarney Castle was about six
miles, over a smooth, hard road, winding
up a hill near the River Lee. They
could see the stream continually flashing in
and out, in its course through the valley
below.
by old brown stone walls, over which ivy of
every variety grew in wild luxuriance.

It did not take Lad long to discover that
the driver of the jaunting-car was a lively
son of the old sod, and he was soon banter-

While the road itself was bordered

 

ing words with him—a contest of wits in
which the ready-tongued Celt quite held
his own, however.

‘“‘This is a great country, driver,’’ said
Lad. ~

‘*Paith, an’ it is thot, sor!’’

‘What might your name be, driver?’

‘*O’ Brien, sor.’?

‘* Any relation to Brian Boru?”’

‘‘Shure, it’s in a straight line do we come
down from him, sor.’

‘*Your family is a very old one, then???

‘Raith, it is thot, sor.’

‘*Its origin is lost in the mists of antiquity,
I suppose???

‘‘Ann Tiquity, is it? Divil a wanst!
Nather Ann nor Molly Tiquity, nor any of
the rist av their owld family, begorra! It
takes more than a woman to lose the
O’Briens.’’

There was a general laugh from the occu-
pants of the cart, and Lad continued:

‘*] suppose the O’Briens go back as far as
the flood, then???

‘“*The flood is it ye’re talkin’ of?
before that!’

‘‘Funny, I never heard of any O’Brien in
the ark with Noah.”’

‘*Phwat would he be in the ark with Noah
for? Faix, d’ye think the O’Briens were
ever so pour that they didn’t have a boat of
their own?’?’

The laugh was at Lad’s expense this time,
and he good naturedly joined in.

Presently their destination was reached.

Blarney Castle was a good specimen of an
old ruin for newly arrived tourists to visit,
as it came up to the expectations in most
respects as to what they considered a ruined
castle ought to be.

It was a fine old building, covered inside
and out with ivy and situated on a high
limestone rock. The original castle was built
in the year 1300, and demolished in 1646
with the exception of the central tower,
which is the portion now standing.

‘*Well, there she is!’’ said Lad.
that-for a ruin?’’

‘*Very artistic,’’ said Ella. ‘‘I really be-
lieve I shall have to make a sketch.”

‘‘Well, the first thing I’m going to do is
to kiss the Blarney Stone. Come on.??

They were soon at the summit of the
tower.

‘*Now, then,’ cried Lad, briskly, ‘‘who’s
the first to try it? What do you say,
Anastasy? Have a try?’’

‘*¥—J—really I believe I will. It is so
romantic, you know,’’ replied the bride, .
who occasionally, since her marriage, en- :
deavored to assume the airs and manners of
a maiden of sixteen. ‘‘Where is the place???

‘*There you are!’’ said Lad, promptly.

He pointed to the famous stone, which
was about two feet below the summit of the
tower, and held in its place by iron
stanchions.

‘‘Just lie down on your face and lean
over,’’ he said. ‘‘Chauncey and [ will grip
on to your—er—limbs, so you won’t fall,’?

Chauncey snickered. ’

‘*You mean, horrid, awful boy! I havea
good mind to box your ears!’’ exclaimed the
indignant Anastasia.

‘“‘Beware of the Terrible Touch,’’ said
Lad, warningly. Then looking around:

e Well, at Anastasy backs out, who else
is first? Don’t all speak at.once! Are
on, Nell?’’ r . orn

His sister replied with a cutting look.

‘*Well, if nobody else is game I suppose
Ill have to take the job myself. You don’t
cheat me out of the treat, anyhow.’?

He lay down on his chest, and stretched
his neck downward. Chauncey and Bird
each caught hold of an ankle,

‘*Hold fast, you fellows,’’ said Lad. ‘‘If
you let go it’ll be a case of coffins for one.’?

The feat was really quite a perilous one, —
as an accidental slip would send him hurt-
ae hundred oe below. Lad bent lower
yet, however, and his face was s i
the stone. ; ey ee

‘Now for it,’? he cried. ‘‘Here is where
we get the gift of gab!’

He had but just brought his lips in con- |
tact with the stone when the report of a _
pistol rang out, as a shot was fired from a
near-by grove directly at the suspended lad.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——>_+~+ ___
. 2 PLUS 2 EQUALS 4.

While the Germans were laying siege to
Paris, Monsieur Thiers came out of the cit
to consult with Bismarck about the supposed
capitulation.

f course it was the Frenchman’s duty to
present a cheerful front, and to seek to con-
vey the impression that things were not in
so desperate a condition in Paris as the
besiegers might suppose. On the other hand
Bismarck was pretty well satisfied that the
besieged Parisians were being starved out.
though, of course, ch.
thing in the presence of Monsieur Thiers. |

But after the conference Bismarck invited _
Monsieur Thiers to dinner, and the French-
man only too gladly accepted the invitation,
Then it was that the wily German noticed
that Monsieur Thiers ate voraciously of the
vegetables and bread, rejected the tinned
and pickled foods, and partook with seeming
avidity of the fresh meat. Xs

This confirmed his suspicions—Paris was

Long

‘*How’s

starving.

 

be intimated no such jit
GooD

 

ak
How To Bo Tunes.

pet Gh shee

EDITED BY DAVID PARKS,

-

HOW TO BUILD A DAM AND WATER
WHEEL:

 

 

+ T is great sport to build dams. Boys
I take to it as naturally as beavers, but
do not go to work quite as scientifically ;
=> though the beaver, contrary, perhaps,
to what your school books would have
you believe, is not at all an intelligent
animal. I have known individuals of the
species personally and intimately, and can
testify to this fact; but the beaver does
know how a dam should be built. To begin
with, if a beaver were writing to you, he
would tell you not to build your dam
straight across the stream from shore to
shore, but more or less rounded out, though
it need not form a regular curve; and he
would warn you against constructing it
with the convex side, or bulge, down
stream, but to bend it the other way. This
precaution will often save your dam from
being swept away by a freshet after a
heavy rain. In selecting the place to build
your dam, he would tell you to choose one
where the stream is not wide and shallow,
otherwise the dam will have to be carried
out a great way on each side, and the water
behind it will form a marsh instead of a
pond.
Having now had all the help we can get
from friend beaver, we must proceed in our
own fashion; for he, poor fellow, lacks our
tools and appliances, and the brain to use
them. He can only follow his blind instinct,
which does not teach him to make the sort
of dam we want.
We begin by driving stout, short stakes
about half a foot apart into the bed of the
stream, as far along as we intend the dam
to extend in such a manner that they slant
up stream, leaving an open space of froma
foot to a foot and a half in the centre fora
water gate. If now we weave flexible twigs
in and out between the stakes, or simply
fill in behind the latter with sticks, laid
crosswise to the course of the stream, and
then, with stones, sods or earth packed
against the sticks behind the stakes, fashion
“the whole into a neat wall, we shall have an
excellent dam.

The two stakes beside the water gate must
now be faced with planks or flat stones to
keep the stream from washing the earth
away on each side. This being done, the
next thing is to make the gate, which is not
difficult. “If the facing is of stone, two
planks must be driven into the bed of the
stream, one on each side against the stone
facing; and cleats, consisting of strips of
wood, must be nailed to them. Between
these the gate, consisting of a piece of
board, slides up and down. It is fastened at
the required height by a peg in the cross-
piece. If well made, it will leak but little;
although it is not of much consequence if it
does, for the water will accumulate behind
it, faster than if can leak out. Indeed, care
must be taken not to have the gate fit too
snugly in the cleats, for the wood swells in
soaking, and it may fit too tightly to work
well. Unless a waste way is constructed the
gate should be raised every night to allow
the water to escape, or it will accumulate
and pour over the dam, and wash away the
earth.

From the top of the dam or the level at
which the water should stand behind it, a
race, consisting of a trough or pipe, should
project; from this the water spouts upon
the water wheel when you set it up, and
makes it revolve. There are several kinds of
water wheel that can be used, but space
forbids describing them all. The easiest one
to make is perhaps as effective as any. It
consists of from four to eight paddles.

To make this, take a large spool, bore four
holes in it either with a hot wire, or an
awl; if you use a gimlet you must be very

’ careful not to split the spool. These holes
must be bored at equal distances. This
forms the hub of your wheel, and you can
scarcely have a better one. The paddles are
easily whittled out of pine shingle, and
driven into the spool. A round stick driven
through the hole that every spool has in it
and supported by uprights on each side,
forms the axle. Simple as it is, this little
apparatus is very effective, and if the water
falls upon it from any considerable height,
has great driving power. The easiest wa
to gear it with any little machine whic
you want to run is merely by extending the

«axle and making it a part of the affair you
desire it to keep in motion.

HOW TO RIDE BICYCLES UP HILL.

Protably most boys find that the greatest
drawback to cycling is hill climbing. It
seems that many of the favorite roads are
so dotted with hills that are difficult to
ascend, that they have to dismount at times
and walk, which causes the delightful ride
down the other side to lose half its charm.
When .the novice sees a much less muscular
person pee up with apparent ease, it only
adds to his dissatisfaction. Hill climbing is

which carries the older wheelman up the
difficult grades. It isan art easily acquired.

While the beginner may feel that it is
easier to dismount and walk up, he will
soon find that riding is not nearly as tire-
some, and the ease with which the next
level can be covered will always repay the
effort. A common mistake made by novices
is in attempting to ride the bicycle up bill

with their hands, instead of their feet. In
other words, they use their strength in
attempting to lift the handle-bars. The

result is they are lifting against themselves,
and might as well try to lift themselves by
their shoe strings.

To climb a hill with the least effort the
rider should have a forward saddle, and sit
well back on it, and, leaning forward in
that cramped position which is so objec-
tonable (circumstances alter cases), he
should grasp the handle-bars tightly and
pedal steadily, tacking occasionally from
side to side.

With a little practice the hills met with
in ordinary runs can be readily climbed,
and the stooping will not be injurious, if
not often indulged in. Of course, judgment
must be used, and if the wheelman is riding
in a very hilly country, an occasional dis-
mount and walk will relieve the muscles,
which are apt to become tired from over-
exertion in difficult climbs.

These few directions are not set down for
‘hard and fast’’ observance under all con-
ditions. The common sense of the rider must
be brought into play as the circumstances
arise, For example, the rider facing a
long, hard hill must, of course, brace him-
self for a more difficult task than on a
shorter incline, and save his strength as
much as possible.

AN ANIMATED SHADOW.

There is nothing very complicated about
the experiment here described, but you will
find it very much easier to comprehend if,
instead of merely reading this explanation
you will try it for yourselves.

Everybody knows that if you place your-
self between a lighted candle and the wall,
your body will throw a shadow on the
latter, but such shadow will only be in
profile, and you cannot expect to see within
its compass eyes, nose, or mouth.

Here is a method which not merely sup-
plies these absent features, but will even
make the eyes roll from side to side, and
the mouth, furnished with teeth of porten-
tous size, open and shut as though eager to
devour.

To produce this effect place yourself at

which a looking-glass is attached. The
person who holds the light behind you must
arrange, by varying as needful, its eleva-
tion and distance from, the wall, that the’
reflection from the light in the glass shall
fall exactly on the spot of the wall as the
shadow of your head.

If, now, you cover the mirror with a
sheet of stout paper—in which you have cut
out two eyes, a’ nose, and a mouth, as
grotesque as you please—the luminous rays
passing through these openings will alone
be reflected, and will appear duly placed as
shapes of light in the middle of the shadow
of your head.

To make the experiment still more start-
ling, you may cover the mirror with two
papers cut out in like manner—one being
fixed, the other movable. The latter, on
being shifted in front of the other, will
cause the eyes to roll and the mouth to
open in a most startling manner.

——__-+~- 0»
YOU CAN WALK 85,903 MILES AN HOUR.

’ Have you ever thought of the distance
you travel while you are out for an hour’s
stroll? Possibly you walk three miles within
the hour, but that does not by any means
represent the distance you travel. The earth
turns on its axis every twenty-four hours.
For the sake of round figures we will call
the earth’s circumference 24,000 miles, and
so you must have traveled during your
hour’s stroll a thousand miles in the axial
turn of the earth.

But this is by no meansall. The earth
makes a journey round the sun every year,
and a long but rapid trip it is. The distance
of our planet from the sun we will put at
92,000,000 miles. This is the radius of the
earth’s orbit—half the diameter of the
circle, as we call it. The whole diameter. is
therefore 184,000,000 miles, and the circum-
ference being the diameter multiplied by
8.1416, is about 578,000,000.

This amazing distance the earth travels in
its yearly journey, and dividing it by 365,
we find the daily speed about 1,584,000.
Then, to get the distance you rode round
the sun during your hour’s walk, divide
again by 24, and the result is about 66,000
miles, But this is not the end of your hour’s
trip. The sun, with its entire brood of
planets, is moving in space at the rate of
166,000,000 miles ina year. This is at the
rate of a little more than 454,000 miles a
day, or 18,900 miles an hour.

So, adding your three miles of leg travel
to the hour’s axial movement of the earth,
this to the earth’s orbital journey, and that
again to the earth’s excursion with the sun,

one corner of the room, near a wall to|.

NEWS.

 

FACE TQ FACE WITH A MAD DOG.

BY HENRY CLARKE.

—_—-.

TT CAN’T say that I object very much to
‘} the muzzling order,’’? remarked Cap-
G tain Peyton. ‘‘I have had too many
=> experiences with mad dogs, and my
voyage with one of them I am never likely
to forget.”’

‘*How was that?’’ we inquired, eagerly;
and after a little pressing the captain spun
us the following yarn:

The thing happened, he began, on board
the ship Globe, when I was a young man
hefore the mast, coming home in her from
Denmark.

Our captain had procured the animal for
a friend of his, who lived somewhere in the
country, and wanted such a dog to keep off
tramps and other trespassers.

I have seldom seen a larger or more
vicious-looking dog. He was of the breed
called’ the Great Dane, a kind noted for size
and fierceness; and though only a year
old, he did hoyor to both these character-
istics.

He would make friends with no one for-
ward, and sometimes would even show his
large white teeth upon a too familiar caress
from the captain, his master pro tem.

You may be sure that‘hot a single one of
us ever kicked that dog out of thé way or
took any other liberty with him.

‘“That animal will be a treasure to Cap-
tain Gale’s friend,’’ the second mate re-
marked one day. ‘‘Why, if 1 had him I
should expect to come home some afternoon
to find my wife in half a dozen pieces, and
my children lying about in little strips.
What cana man be thinking of to want
such a creature as that about the place?”’

We used to think that he had more teeth
than other dogs—at lest, his mouth appeared
absolutely full of them—two great, white
shining rows that it made oneshudder to see.

Once he snapped at little Roy Drew, the
ship’s ‘‘boy,’’ and took a piece out of his
duck trousers, but without tearing his flesh.

Fortunately Captain Gale was at hand,
and a loud, quick shout from him prevented
any further demonstration. He accused Roy
of carelessness, and said the dog would not
haye attempted to hurt him if he had been
minding his business.

Roy was dreadfully frightened, though,
for it was a narrow escape.

‘‘That dog ought to be chained up,’’ said
the first mate.

‘*Nonsense!’’ retorted Captain Gale, ob-
stinately; ‘‘the animal will not hurt any
one if left alone, and the men must not
meddle with him if they do not wish to be
bitten.’

Atter a time the brute began to lose his
appetite. He slept more than usual, and at
last refused his food altogether. There was
evidently something the matter with him.

‘*Tt would be an awkward matter for us
if he had hydrophobia,’’ said the first mate.

‘*He might easily do so,’’ replied the sec-
ond mate. ‘‘They say dogs generally behave
like that before going mad.’’

We sailors also felt rather uneasy; but the
captain, as usual, treated the matter very
lightly.

‘‘He may die, of course,’’ he said, as the
mate suggested some precaution, ‘‘but I
won’t have him killed; and as to tying him
up just because he won’t eat, I sha’n’t do
that either. He may be all right again ina
day or two.’’

Although the animal slept much, the
would often get up and turn around as if he
were not easy in any position. His eyes,
too, had a very strange, glassy stare.

He remained in this state for a week,
sometimes moving a few feet, but generally
asleep.

He growled at every one who came near
him, and I believe that even the captain, al-
though too obstinate to acknowledge it,
would at last have been glad to see him
knocked on the head.

When the crisis finally came, it came sud-
denly. Most of the foremast hands were
aloft in the rigging, I myself being in the
maintop. The mate was busy somewhere
about the deck, and the captain was leaning
over the quarter-rail, watching his oppor-
tunity to strike a porpoise which had come
under the ship’s counter.

Presently we heard him shout to the mate:
‘*T’ve got him, Mr. Gibson! Come and
lend a hand.’’

The officer hurried to assist him; but at
that moment another cry came from ‘the
man at the wheel:

‘*Look out, Captain Gale! Look out, Mr.
Gibson! The dog is raving mad!’’

As he spoke he let go of the wheel and
sprang for the mizzen rigging. The captain
and mate, looking hastily round, saw the
mad brute close behind them, leaping up
aimlessly and snapping at the air. I need
not tell you that they went into the shrouds
probably more quickly than they had ever
done before.

Every one not already aloft got there
without loss of time, so that the deck was
soon entirely deserted.

Meanwhile the dog was traversing the
deck at a brisk trot, snapping at everything

 

 

so easy to the veteran that it would repay
the young rider to try to acquire the knack

and you find you have traveled in the hour,
85,903 miles.

and spring straight up; at others he would
tear away at some large rope, as if trying
to devour it. Occasionally he uttered a wild,
dismal howl.

What was to be done? Had he been a
small dog we might have attacked and
killed him with handspikes; but with so
large and powerful a creature the case was
different.

The captain had a revolver in the cabin,
but while we were becalmed off the Orkney
Islands he had shot away all his cartridges
at sea birds that came near the ship, so that
now the firearm was useless.

All this while the shin was left to herself,
the topsails backing and filling, and the
spanker moving from side to side,

‘*Why not try to lasso the brute?’’ called
out the mate at last.

The captain thought the suggestion worth
acting upon, and a number of us going down
to the foot of the shrouds, attempted to
take off some coils of the running rigging
from the pins.

But the dog was there before us, and,
leaping up, he fixed his teeth in the shrouds
in a way that showed what would be our
fate if we did not keep out of his reach.

However, as some of us were on one side
of the ship and some on the other, we finally
succeeded in getting at the slack of some of
the ropes, and then, standing well up in the
shrouds, we did our best at lasso-throwing.
But we were no cowboys, and all our efforts
resulted in failure. :

Our attempts served only to irritate the
rabid animal, so that he was now perfectly
frantic, leaping, howling, and rushing about
in a terrible manner.

Just as we had begun to despair of effect-
ing anything in this way we heard a shout
from forward. It was little Roy Drew.

‘*Hullo, there!’’ hesaid; ‘‘Il’m on the
bowsprit. I’ve just come down the forestay.
I see how he can be got overboard.’

As we stood in the shrouds, the ship’s fore
and main courses, which were set, pre-
vented us from seeing the boy, but we could
easily judge of his position and intention
also.

‘Look out for yourself, Roy!’ was the
cry from more than one voice, as all realized
the fearful risk that he ran.

But the little fellow had his plan. He
made a great stamping and shouting, and
the dog, which happened just then to be for-
ward, leaped upon the topgallant forecastle.

We, who were in the rigging, hurried
down to the deck, no longer thinking of any
danger to ourselves, and then the whole
scene was before us.

Roy had run out along the bowsprit and

him.

The upper side of the bowspriti being flat,
the mad animal could easily traverse it, but
we did not believe that he would be able to
walk on the jib-boom. To our great alarm,
however, we saw him dash out upon it
without falling.

‘*Roy! Roy!’’ we called, ‘‘take care of
yourself—quick! quick! Don’t let him get
hold of you!”’

But the lad was prepared even for this.
Away out on the end of the boom he stood,
with his hand on the flying jibstay, and
when the dog was within a few feet of him,

around if and went up the log rope like 4
squirrel.

The mad dog made a sort of half leap, as
if to reach him, staggered, lost his balance,
and fell with a splash under the ship’s bows.

Probably the sudden immersion threw
him into one of those convulsive fits so com-
mon in the rabies, for, after a few minutes
of violent tumbling, he sank outright, and
we saw no more of him.

‘¢Now,’’ said Captain Gale, after all was
over and the ship had been put upon her
course, ‘‘I’ll finish catching my porpoise.”’

And, sure enough, upon going to his line,
he found the iron still fast to it.

During the remainder of the voyage, con-
cluded Captain Peyton, little Roy Drew was
the hero of the ship. He had performed
what all the rest of us combined had beed
unable to accomplish, and even the captain
gave him full credit for his gallant act.

a a
SETTLED.

Owing to the illness of his regular boy,
Doctor Joseph Marcus some weeks ago el-
gaged a new lad named Tommie Jones:
Tommie was a jewel, and when Joe, the first
incumbent, was quite well again, the doctor
was loath to let Mfomeniie go. But Joe wante
to come back to his pleasant berth, av
pleaded with his former employer.

A way out of the dilemma seemed 6
present itself, for the doctor said:

‘‘Joe, if you can put the other boy out
you can get your job back.’’

‘*Do you mean that I must lick him?’?
‘*That’s about the size of it.’?
“Allright.” - ;
When Doctor Marcus returned to his
surgery that night he meta sight he nev®
bargained for. The glass in the door was
smashed to smithereens. A marble clock *
the mantelpiece was minus dial, glass, a?
hands, while a handsome chair reposed 0?
three legs; but Joe was in victorious posses

 

in his way.
Sometimes he would come to,a full stop

sion. nursing a swoollen cheek. ‘
‘*Tommie’s gone,’’ hessaid, with a grin-

jib-boom, and the dog was trying to follow

he grasped the hoops of the sail which were |

   
 

 

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[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form,]

FROM PLEBE TO ENSIGN;

Kemeth Scott's Siragele for 4 Commission,

A Story of the Annapolis Naval Academy.

emlainrtrioes howe

BY ENRIQUE H. LEWIS,

Author of “The Valley of Mystery,” ‘The Nameless
Story,” ‘Yankee Boys in Japan,” ‘The Copper
Disk,’ “Sword and Pen,” etc., etc.
>
(“FROM PLEBE TO ENSIGN” was commenced in No.
331. Back numbers can be obtained of all News

Agents.)

 

 

CHAPTER XVI.
A ROW ON THE SEVERN AND ITS RESULTS.

 
  
 

SHE sudden blow in the face from the
>» soaked sponge caused Kenneth to

drop back behind a hawser reel which
7 stood near the open port. The next
moment a derisive laugh came from out-
side, then a shuffling of retreating footsteps
sounded on the wharf,

‘«That doesn’t look as if they were coming
in,’’ muttered the lad.

He peered forth and saw the dim outlines
of a boy descending trom the roof of a shed
which extended from the wharf to within a
few feet of the Santee’s bow.

To pick up the sponge was the work of a
second—the next instant the retreating cadet
received a whack with it that sent him to
the wharf with a prodigious clatter.

There was a brief silence, then a hail
came from the receiving ship’s gangway.
Kenneth snatched: up the piece of paper
which had fallen at his feet, and retired to
his hammock with dispatch. A commotion
overhead indicated that the officer of the
deck and his watch had been aroused.

‘¢That hazer will have to dust if he cares
to escape,’’ chuckled Kenneth.

‘‘T say there, what’s the racket?’’ asked a
sleepy voice from the next hammock.

‘¢¢We have met the enemy and they are
ours,’ Tardy,’? quoted Kenneth.

‘‘Do you mean to say that they have been
here??? queried the boy from Boston, leap-
ing to the deck.

‘Yes; but get back in bed, some one is
coming down.”’

Tardy hustled to his hammock just asa
warrant officer descended the ladder. He
glanced suspiciously around, then returned
above. In much less time than is required
inthe writing Kenneth was near the deck
lamp with a half-dozen white-robed figures
about him.

He explained his little adventure in de-
tail, then examined the bit of paper which
had accompanied the sponge through the
port. He scanned it with a low whistle, then
read the contents to his expectant audience.
It ran as follows:

‘You have been fooled nicely, you gillies.
We are on to your little game, and we will
come when you least expect it. We know
all about your plan of resistance. It will
not help you to escape, so look out.”’

Murmurs of surprise came from more
than one plebe. Kenneth and Tardy ex-
changed glances. The same thought was in
the minds of both. The former expressed it
without mincing words.

‘¢Rellows,’? he said, ‘‘we have a traitor
among us. Some one has told these cadets
that we were prepared for them.’’

‘<Tt certainly looks like it,’? said Arthur
Tremaine. ‘‘Confound it! it must be a
mighty poor specimen that would betray
his mates.”’ :

‘‘You are right there,’’ spoke up Klien-
burger, warmly. ‘‘I propose that we find
out who it is and give him a blamed good
hiding.’

‘“‘The latter part might be easy enough,
but I guess the first will be difficult,’’ re-
marked Kenneth, quietly. ‘‘We can’t expect
those fellows to tell us where they obtained
their information.’’

‘*T°]) bet a dollar I know the cad,’’ splut-
tered Tardy Pierce. ‘‘I can lay my hand
On.——??

Kenneth stopped him with a warning
glance.

‘‘Don’t make an accusation without you
can prove it,’’ he admonished. |

‘‘Like you did in the examining-room the
other day,’’ said a voice behind a uear-by
hammock.

‘‘T may be right in both cases, Ralph
Nelson,’’ exclaimed Tardy, quickly. ‘‘What
do you know about it, anyway?”’

The controversy was checked by a clatter
of drums and the brazen notes of several

ugles. It was the morning reveille. A

Oarse voice came from the upper deck, and
the shrill piping of a boatswain’s whistle
announced to the listeners that it was time

0 prepare for roll call. ‘

Kenneth and his companions slipped on

eir working suits and hastened to the for-
Ward washroom, As the former was liber-
ally sousing his face he heard Tardy
Whisper : q

“IT guess you know who I meant all right,
didn’t ou???

‘*Yes, but it wasn’t just policy to tell it,”’

 

spluttered Kenneth. ‘‘Wait; bide your time,
and we’ll catch the fellow.’’

There was asound of a hearty smack of
fist against fist, and Tardy replied, deter-
minedly :

‘*Oh, when we do won’t there be a picnic.
We’ll horse the cad until he won’t know his
own name,’

The academy grounds, with their green
carpet and noble old elms, seemed like a

picture to Kenneth as he marched across |
| exultantly.

with his companions. The air was crisp,
and a fresh breeze tinged with the scent of
flowers came from the hills beyond the
Severn.

The river sparkled merrily in the early
sunlight. Birds flitted about from branch to
branch, and perched upon one edge of the
Tripoli monument was a family of sparrows
greeting, with discordant chirps, the form-
ing line of cadets in front of the quarters.

Kenneth glanced at ‘‘Candles’’ Chadwick
as he fell into his place, but he saw nothing
in that youth’s imperturbable face to repay
him. At the table not a word was said re-
garding the night’s episode. The gun cap-
tain spoke pleasantly of the weather, and
made a few appropriate remarks about the
impending annual examination, but that
was all,

The boy from Illinois noticed many a sly
glance exchanged between his companions,
however, and once he caught his neighbor,
‘‘Liverwurst,’’? winking across the table at
another cadet. Kenneth smiled quietly to
himself, and held his peace.

The morning was spent in the gymnasium,
and during the afternoon the plebes were

giyen another run in the riggiug of the}
This time Bagley took very |
good care not to race to the maintop, his)
evidently satisfying |

Monongahela.

previous experience
hin.

The week passed rapidly. Drill succeeded
drill, and when Saturday arrived the new
plebes had grown accustomed to their situa-
tion. A careful watch was kept each night
in the expectation that the hazers would
make their ‘appearance, but nothing

‘eccurred.

Saturday afternoon is a permanent holi-
day at the academy. Study is suspended
and the cadets of the various classes are
permitted to amuse themselves either in
visiting the town, or in games such as base-
ball or football.

The fleet of boats employed in drills
number eighteen or twenty well-built cut
ters. Besides these there are smaller craft
for pleasure purposes. Kenneth made bold
to ask his immediate superior for permission
to takea row. The request was granted,
and he embarked for a spin with Tardy
Pierce and Arthur Tremaine.

The latter had developed a great fondness
for Kenneth since the scene in the washroom
when Ralph Nelson had threatened to strike
him, and he lost no opportunity to seek his
company. He was a_ well-brought-up lad,
with winning manners, and both Kenneth
and Tardy took a fancy to him. ;

‘‘T’ll take the oars,’’? smiled Kenneth, a
the three embarked at the wharf. ‘‘I’ve
been using them for years, and I never feel
more at home than when I have a pair in
my hands.’’

The light craft shot out under the impulse
of his powerful stroke, and many an ad-
miring. glance was sent after the athletic
figure, with the well-poised head and brawny
arms. A course was taken down past the
Naval Cemetery toward the long bridge of
the Short Line Railway.

After a brisk row Kenneth sent the boat
into a little, nook shaded by several wide-
spreading willows, As the bow touched the
bank Tardy sprang out and dared Tremaine
to race him to the bridge and back. The
lad was nothing loath, and the two darted
away, with merry laughter.

Kenneth fastened the painter to a root
projecting from the bank, and laid back in
the stern to indulge in aday dream. He
had hardly settled himself when the sound of
a familiar voice came to his ears from
behind a clump of bushes.

‘‘Here’s a good spot, Bagley,’’ it said.
‘‘We can enjoy a quiet game without fear
of being disturbed.’

‘‘But-I don’t care about playing, Ralph.
I owe you enough as it is.’’

There was a sneering laugh, then the first
voice said, tauntingly:

“‘Oh, well, if you are afraid I won’t say
anything more about it. But I’d like to
have that money.”’

‘‘T can’t pay you now, Ralph. You won
all I had when I arrived here.’’

‘*T won it fair, didn’t I??’

‘e¥ies.?’

‘¢Well, what are you growling about? I'll
tell you what I will do. You owe me seven
dollars now. I'l] play you one hand of draw
poker for double or quits. What d’ye say?”’

Kenneth, not wishing to play the part of
eavesdropper, had coughed on hearing the
first words, but the invisible speakers were
too intent on their conversation to notice
the sound. As Ralph’s meaning became
plain Kenneth’s face darkened and he in-
stinctively doubled his fist.

“T thought it was like that,’? he mut-
tered. ‘*Bagley is under that fellow’s in-
fluence,’ and he is too weak to resist his evil
temptations. I do not like to interfere with

other people’s business, but I’ll have a talk *

with Horace one of these days.”’

 

 

‘*T’ll go you for the last time,’’ he heard
Bagley say. ‘‘Butif I lose I can’t pay it
all at once.’’

‘*Don’t let that worry you,’’ replied
Ralph, easily. ‘‘I can wait.’?’

There came the sound of cards being
shuffled, then, after a moment of silence, a
sharp cry reached Kenneth’s ears. It was
an oath, brought out by bitter disappoint-
ment.

‘Fourteen dollars,’? exclaimed Nelson,
‘*You owe me fourteen dollars.
What a lucky card that last draw—— Hello!
what the devil are you doing here, you little
sneak???

Kenneth sprang to his feet. The next in-
stant he heard Arthur Tremaine’s voice
replying with evident spirit. There was
commotion on the other side of the bush, and
the sound of a blow. As quick as a flash
Kenneth thrust the bush aside and sprang
into the open space.

CHAPIER XVII.
A. TRATITOR’S SIGNAL +

( 4 E saw Bagley seated upon the ground
2} with a pack of cards spread out in
front of him. Standing a few feet
away were Ralph Nelson and Arthur
Tremaine, the latter on the defensive, as if
expecting a second blow. Ralph’s face was
red with passion, and he held one hand
upraised in a threatening attitude.

‘‘Stop!’? called out Kenneth, sternly.
‘*Don’t strike him again.’’

Ralph glared furiously at the intruder,
but he partially lowered his hand. Bagley
sprang to his feet and glanced from one to
the other in surprise. The next instant the
bushes parted and Tardy Pierce made his
appearance. He quickly recognized the state
of affairs, and his sleeves were rolled up in
rapid time.

‘‘What is it to you?’’ demanded Nelson,
sullenly. ‘‘You had better mind your own
business. ’?

‘‘Tt is my business just now to see that
you do not repeat your cowardly atiack,’’
retorted Kenneth, quietly.
coward to strike a boy so much smaller
than you.’’

‘‘That’s what he is,’’? bravely spoke up
Arthur, his eyes flashing. ‘‘If he wants to
fight, I’ll tackle him, though.”’

“Pll settle with you later, my cub,’’
exclaimed Ralph, meaningly.

A dull red hue flowed into Kenneth’s
face, and he took a step toward the sneaker.
Extending his clinched fist to within an
inch of Nelson’s nose he said, with deadly
emphasis :

‘*Ralph Nelson, listen to me. If you ever
lay the weight of your little finger upon that
boy, 171] make it the worst moment of your
life. Now, don’t you forget that.’’

The bully—for such he was at heart—
quailed and instinctively shrank back. He
tried to bluster, but bis pale face proclaimed
that his words were ria a He had met his
master, and he knew it. Kenneth turned to
Bagley and added, in a pitying tone:

**} am sorry for you, Horace, that you
permit such a fellow of that calibre to lead
you away. loverheard all that was said,
and I know that he has taught you the trick
of gambling. Better give it up and shake
his acquaintance.”’

Bagley flushed and glanced at Ralph
Nelson. He hesitated a moment, then he
replied, with an air of weak bravado:

“PH attend to my own affairs, if you
please, Scott.’’

Kenneth shrugged his shoulders.

**As you will,’’ he replied, ‘‘but you’ll
see some day that I am right. Come,
fellows.’’

He walked back to the boat followed by
Tardy and Arthur. Before they got out of
sound he heard Nelson say, savagely:

‘*He’s a sneak anc a tattler. I'l] beta
dollar he will go and ‘tell the commandant
that he caught us gambling. If he does I’
get square with him.’’

‘*Mellows,’’ said Kenneth, to his com-
panions, ‘‘that is by all odds the worst boy
in the academy. He has taken Bagley, who
has been pampered at home until he’s
almost ruined, and be is leading him astray
as fast as he can. It’s a shame, and if it
weren’t for the idea of it I would tell the
commandant, ”’ .

‘*You can’t do that,’? replied Tardy,
shaking his head.

‘*No,’? agreed Arthur. ‘‘The whole acad-
emy would get down on you for carrying
tales.”’

This peculiar schoolboy sense of honor
sealed Kenneth’s lips, but he was destined
to bitterly regret that he did not go straight
to Commandant Carpenter that day.

That evening after the concert, given
daily by the academy band, Kenneth met
Ensign Jack Stuart, as he was strolling
back to the Santee:, He had caught a
glimpse of the young officer on several pre-
vious occasions, but this was the first time
he had found a chance to speak with him,

He touched his cap, and the salute was
formally returned by the ensign. This
official rule duly carried out, the two had a
friendly chat. Kenneth was tempted to tell
his friend of the occurrence that day and to
ask his advice, but the old repugnance
about carrying tales deterred him.

After hammocks were piped down several

 

 

 

 

lof the plebes came together on the forward

berth deck, and the ever-interesting subject
of hazing was broached. Tardy expressed
the opinion that the cadets were simply
biding their time in hopes that the plebes
would be lulled into false security. Kenneth
shared this opinion, but Bagley exclaimed,
boastfully:

‘‘T tell you, fellows, they are afraid to
tackle us. They simply know that they will
get a warm reception, and they have given
up the idea.’’

*‘Don’t you believe it,’? said Klienburger,
bluntly. ‘‘They are not afraid of you or
me—not by a jugful. One of these nights
we’ll wake up and find the enemy in posses-
sion of the ship, to use a_ nautical
expression.’?

‘Well, I, for one, am not going to lose
any more sleep over it,’’? retorted Horace;
‘‘the scheme is dead.”’

‘‘We will keep watch all the same,’’
remarked Arthur,

‘‘T am beginning to doubt the necessity,
after all,’? suddenly observed Kenneth, to
Tardy’s evident surprise. ‘‘We have been
here over a week now, and nothing has
turned up yet. Perhaps the fellows have
given up the idea, after all.’’

‘‘T agree with you there,’’ eagerly ex-
claimed Bagley. ‘‘What’s the use of stand-
ing watch and watch when one can be
snoozing in bis hammock???

‘*We will stop it to-night,’’ said Kenneth.
‘That is, if any one wants to do sentry go
he can, but I won’t.’’

Before taps he was tackled by Tardy,
Arthur, and Klienburger, all eager to ascer-
tain thecause of his sudden change of heart.
Kenneth smiled and replied in his quiet
way:

**lt was only a scheme of mine. I had an
idea both Horace and Nelson were too
anxious to have the watching stopped, so I
tried that plan. If Iam not mistaken the
first and second class men will be down on

| us before daylight.’’

‘‘Then you think Bagley and his unsavory

‘chum are the spies?’’ queried the boy from
| Boston.
‘““You are a|

‘*T may be mistaken, but I am afraid
they are.’’

‘*But why would they go back on their
own classmates?’’ asked Arthur.

**To curry favor with the upper fellows,’?
replied Tardy. ‘‘The cads think they will
get off in the inevitable hazing.’

‘Oh, if we were only sure of it,’ ex-
claimed Klienburger, waving his lanky
arms. ‘‘I’d give two dollars to get a good
crack at that black mug of Nelson’s. Can’t
we accuse them of treachery before the
other fellows?”’

‘‘That would spoil everything,’’ quiet]
replied Kenneth. ‘‘There goes taps. In wit
you, and keep your eyes peeled for trouble.
Til take first watch, and Tardy can follow
me.

The hour from twelve to one was guarded
by little Arthur Tremaine. The boy had
been admonished by his predecessor to
maintain due vigilance, but, alas! for Ken-
neth’s plan of campaign, he was not proof
against the wooing of the drowsy god.

The row on the river, the race with
Tardy, and the long evening, with its many
sports, had wearied him. Twenty minutes
after he mounted guard on the division
chest in the washroom his curly head fell
against the bulkhead, and-he slept.

Where he sat he was visible from a ham-
mock swinging near the partition door.
Presently the hammock swayed uneasily,
and a youth dropped to the floor. He crept
up to the slumbering sentry, glanced
quickly into his face, and then slipped
across to the starboard port. Snatching up
a towel he waved it three times, then
hastily retreated to his hammock.

CHAPTER XVIII.
IN THE REALMS OF KING NEPTUNE.

HREE ‘minutes later a face appeared

2 above the lower edge of the open

t’’ port. Then a pair of shoulders be-
~~~ came visible, and finally a slim cadet
clad in undress uniform climbed lightly
Into the washroom. He was followed by
another, and then another until at’ last
fifteen boys stood grinning at each other in
the apartment.

One, who bore a remarkable resemblance
to the gun captain of Kenneth’s table, gave
a whispered order. Fifteen white handker-
chiefs were quickly produced, and the half
of each of the fifteen faces was as quickly
concealed behind the improvised masks.

Another brief order, and the invaders
slipped across the deck to the door. Three
detached themselves and pounced upon poor
Arthur. Before he could raise an alarm he
was deftly bound and gagged. The others
ee on to the berth deck.

\t a signal they separated, each halti
beside a hammock. The occupant was ae
ened with a shake, then this formula was
given in a low but determined voice:

**Do not make any noise. Turn out as
quietly as possible, and take your medicine.
In this academy we have a habit of sending
to Coventry any plebe who splits on his
mates. Turn out and be quick about it.”

Kenneth grasped the state of affairs as
soon as his eyes were opened. He dropned
to the deck in prompt obedience and placidly

4

     

  
- eadets obeyed without a murmur.

S

began to don his duck uniform. There were
several exclamations of surprise and anger
from different parts of the deck, but they
were quickly suppressed.

Any one of the plebes could have given
the alarm, but the deadly fear of that most
potent of all punishments at Annapolis—
being sent to Coventry—effectually sealed
the lips of every victim.

In less than five minutes the entire dozen
of plebes were standing in a row near the
washroom bulkhead, The leader of the
hazers—Kenneth’s gun captain—walked up
and down peering keenly into each face.

_ Turning to another cadet with a figure very
_ like that of ‘‘Candles’’? Chadwick, he asked,
authoritatively :

** Are they all present?’’

‘¢Yes, admiral.’

‘*Ts his royal highness, the laird, here?’’

Candles made a profound bow, and indi-

_ cated Kenneth with a sweep of his hand.

‘‘And our esteemed contemporary, the
commodore from the naval militia?’’

‘*He is on my right, sir.’’

‘*Ts Cheese, alias Limberger, alias Klien- |

burger, present?’?

Candles chuckled, and was on the point of
replying when the lanky plebe from Maine
exclaimed, indignantly :

‘*My name is not Cheese, it’s Klienburger,
and I want you to remember it.”’

‘*Master-at-arms, seize that man and give
him three dozen at the gangway,’’ calmly
ordered the chief of the hazers. ‘‘And have
it entered in the log that hereafter it will
be a capital offense for any of my crew to
call the mutineer anything but Cheese.
with the roll.’?’

_ ‘*Here is a very little kid with naval
aspirations,’? replied. Candles, dragging

Arthur Tremaine into the circle of light
cast by the deck lamp. ‘‘He is a sweet little
boy, and he has not been named yet.’’

‘*NMother’s precious pet,’? murmured the
gun captain, pretending to stroke Tremaine’s
cheek. ‘‘It’s a shame to send you here
among all these rude boys. Don’t you think
you will lose your beauty sleep if you stay
up any longer?’’

Arthur had the tact to join in the laugh
which followed this sally, and he escaped
further chaffing. Before another victim

-  eould be brought forward a lookout sta-

_ * tioned at the foot of the companion ladder
slipped up to the gun captain and whispered
that the officer of the deck was on the
move. -

. **We will Jand and proceed with the
second watch,’’ decided that functionary,
without loss of time, ‘‘Here, you plebes,
‘drop out of that port into a boat under the
bow. If any of you make a noise, Ill know

it was done on purpose, and every mother’s |

son of you will make a cruise to Coventry.’’
This was rather hard lines, but the new
When it
came Kenneth’s turn to slip through the
open port he found a large twelve-oared
barge beneath his feet. The plebes and

_ their tormentors filled it from bow to stern,

and when the last cadet left the old Santee
the barge’s gunwale was very few inches
above the water’s surface,

Fortunately for the success of the hazing
scheme the night was very dark. A thick
_ fog had also crept in from the bay, and the
_ anchor lights of the Monongahela and Ban-
-eroft across the wharf gleamed dully

through the blanket.of mist. ,

From the bow of the receiving ship to the
brown barn-like boat-house was not more
than fifty or sixty yards. Extending over
the water at the northern end of the boat-

house is a shed divided into sections for the
hoisting and storing of boats. ‘

It required very few strokes of the

muffled oars to force the barge into one of
the sections. A dangling boat tackle
_ afforded ready means for the nimble cadets

to reach the ground floor, and in a very
few moments all were assembled in black
darkness in a room which bad formerly
been used for the storage of spare oars and
- odds and ends.
_ **Plebe, prepare to meet thy doom,’’ said

a deep voice near Kenneth’s ear.

_ There was a sound as of the shuffling of
many feet, then a dim green light appeared
overhead,

The illumination was scant, but by its aid
the plebes saw that they were alone. The
_ older cadets had all disappeared. Kenneth
glanced around in some curiosity. He saw
that the room had been fitly decorated for
the occasion.

_ Hanging from the ceiling were masses of

spun-yarn dripping with moisture. Here
_ and there were suspended by invisible wires

_ strange sea monsters—huge crabs, yawning
sharks, devil fish, manatees. They had been

constructed with.exceeding skill from wood

and canvas, and as they swayed to and fro
under the impulse of some motive power,
_ they locked really uncanny. ©

At one end was an ingeniously painted
canvas’ representing a grotto filled with
floating bodies of dead sailors. It was
labeled above in phosphorescent letters:

+ DAVY JONES’ LOCKER.

At the other end of the apartment was a
throne formed like a huge seashell, with a
background representing the head of Boreas.
The work, though rude, was striking, and
Kenneth felt inclined to admiration. The
other walls of the room were hung with sea-

 

|

On |

 

CGrooD
green canvas, with here and there a branch
of coral.

‘By Jove! they have madethis up mighty
fine,’’ whispered Tardy Pierce. Wow!
what’s that?’’

A hollow, roaring sound, like the beat of
a heavy surf upon a rock-bound shore, sud-
denly filled the apartment. A moment later
the green light went out. There was a brief
interval, then the emerald illumination
again appeared, showing to the plebes a
pumber of weird, uneanny objects.

On the throne was an old man with long
gray hair and beard. That part of his face
visible was of a ghastly hue, and it was
marked with the many wrinkles of age.
Upon his head rested a gilt crown, and in
one hand he carried a formidable trident.

Surrounding the throne were half a dozen
queer figures with horns and tails, and
farther away could be seen other fantastic
objects, some kneeling, some lying full
length upon the floor.

There was a moment of silence, then the
figure upon the throne, evidently a carica-
ture of King Neptune, rose to its feet.
Extending the trident, it exclaimed, in a
hollow voice:

‘Hosts of my domain, urchins and imps,
know ye that we have on trial to-night
twelve daring mortals who aspire to the
honor of a command in the navy of my
good subject, Uncle Sam. These are. not
obedient children, these mortals. They were
summoned before me eight suns ago, but
they refused and rose in mutiny. What say
ye, my people?’?’

‘¢They must be punished,’’? came in deep
tones from overhead, and a muffled bell
commenced to toll.

‘*The decision is fit,’’ thundered Neptune.
‘*Bring them before me one by one. We
will commence with he of the highest rank.
Produce the commodore of the naval
militia.’’

Four of the shrouded figures darted for-
ward, there was a brief struggle, then
Horace Bagley was dragged to the foot of
the throne and forced upon his knees,

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
——__ +»>-e o> ————
(This Story Will Not be Published in Book-Form. ]

AY DASHLEIGH IN THE SOUTH. SEAS,

ecteneeeeGptememypeeate

By ARTHUR SEWALL,
Author of “Gay Dashleigh in Cuba,’ “Gay Dash-
leigh’s Academy Daas,’ ete.
(“Gay DASHLEIGH IN THE SouTH SEA8s,” was
commenced in No. 825. Back numbers can be obtained
of all Newsdealers.)

CHAPTER XXXIV.

A MEANS OF SALVATION,

a6 UNSON FERRIS went down before
i /\) the sudden onslaught like a waver-

a"¢) ing nine-pin. He caught one
“Tes > glimpse of his assailant’s face, then
his voice was uplifted in a terrific howl of
fear. Dennis was instantly attracted by the
commotion.

The uncanny appearance of the stranger
startled him, and he retreated a few paces.
His fright soon passed, however, and he
boldly hastened to the assistance of his
companion. Snatching up a stout cudgel as
he advanced he dealt the new-comer such a
sturdy blow that he spun around like an
animated top.

No second stroke was needed,
man—for such he appeared to be, with his
garb of leaves, his matted hair and beard,
and his dusky sunburned skin—dropped to
the sand like a log.

Munson sprang to his feet, and disap-

eared with shrieks of fear into the brush.

6 was heard to force his way through the
dense undergrowth, the sound finally dying
away in the distance. In the meantime Gay
had not been idle. His mind, quick to act,
told him that it was an opportunity not to
be neglected.

During the long watches of the night he
had weighed every chance, and he Bad at
last concluded that their only hope rested in
Dennis. The man had been an ordinary
sailor on board the yacht, but he appeared
intelligent beyond his station: He was not
one whit better, morally, than his mates, but
he seemed more inclined to favor the
prisoners than the others.

Gay fully realized the power of gold, and
he had made up his mind to try the effect of
a bribe at the earliest opportunity. The
time had arrived. Hardly able to control
his voice from very eagerness, he called
out:

‘“‘Dennis, listen to mea moment. If you
will only do what I ask I'll promise you on
my word of honor that I will make you
richer than you ever dreamed of being.
I have great wealth. It is mine, absolutely
mine. Ill give you fifty thousand dollars—
yes, a hundred thousand dollars, if you will
a us.’? :

he mutineer stood erect—he had been
tying the wild man’s hands—and stared at
ay. The latter repeated his offer with
greater emphasis, and the other prisoners
added their entreaties.

‘You will not refuse, Dennis,’’? pleaded

Bessie, brokenly. ‘‘You will help us, won’t:

/

The wild

NEWS.

 

you? Did you ever have a sister—a brother?
Would you care to see them situated as we
are?. Believe what Gay tells you. He will
keep his word.”’

Miss Spooner broke into such a series of
hysterical appeals that Gay was compelled
to check her. Professor Gasse was on the
point of offering his scientific record as an
added proof of the respectability of the
party, when Dennis made reply. He was
evidently considerably agitated, and he
glanced furtively around while speaking.

‘*Don’t ask me to go back on my mates,”’
he said. ‘‘I can’t do it, sir, much as I
would like to. They’d kill me if I turned
traitor to them. I can’t do it, indeed I
can’t,”?

‘*You will make nothing by remaining
| with them,’’ continued Gay, rapidly. ‘‘I
‘know what Allibone intends to do. He

thinks he can hold us for ransom. He will

| never get acent of my money—never. If
you refuse to help us we will escape sooner
;or later. Then you will have your trouble
|for your pains. If you help us, you will be
/made a rich man. Don’t you believe that I
will pay you?’’ F

‘*'Yes,’? hoarsely replied Dennis.

‘Then why don’t you seize the chance?
[ll put it stronger, If I should agree to pay
a ransom, what would your share amount
to? Not half as much as I offer you now.
And you would never enjoy it. The whole
rascally crew of you would be hauled up
before long. Take my advice and accept
my proposition. What do you say? Time is
precious.”’

‘*Don’t tempt me, sir. I can’t——’

‘*Your mates will return soon,’’ persisted
Gay, encouraged by the man’s hesitancy.
‘*You must decide at once. here is
another matter which you will do well to
know. Is it possible you are fool enough: to
think that Willis Allibone will share with
you if he gets his foul hands on my money?
No, indeed. He is tricky and not even
honorable to his friends. You wouldn’t get
a dollar.’ 4

“Td cut his heart out if he played me
false,’’ grated Dennis, fiercely.

‘‘Tf he didn’t cut yours first. Man, don’t
be a fool. Fortune is in you favor. Take it
while you can.’’

**T’l] do it, sir,’’? almost shouted the muti-
neer, ‘‘1’ll doit, but if you go back on me,
Dll kill you, if it takes my own life to
do it.”’ 2

Whipping out his knife he severed Gay’s
bonds. In much less-time than is taken in
the writing the whole party was free. No
words were wasted. A return of the other
mutineers might be expected at any
moment. Gay snatched up Munson’s rifle,
which that youth bad abandoned in bis wild
flight. He hastily examined the cylinder,
and found to his delight that it was full- of
cartridges,

‘*‘We must not leave the poor man,’’
exclaimed Bessie, pointing to the prostrate
figure of the mysterious stranger.

‘*No, indeed,’’? promptly replied the
young millionaire. ‘‘To leave him here to
the merey of those scoundrels would be the
basest ingratitude. Jack, help me carry
him.’?

‘*We d-d-do that, mum-master,’’ spoke up
Ko-ko.

He and Jack and the professor shonldered
the still insensible man and started off in
the rear of the others. As they left the
beach a faint halloa came to their ears.

‘‘Quick; on with you,’ cried Gay.
‘(Some of them are returning,.’’

‘*Where will we go??? queried Dennis,
hoarsely.

‘““To the lagoon. There must be hiding-
places along the base of Mount Gasse.
Heart up, man; we have two guns and
plenty of ammunition, Your old mates will
think twice before tackling us.’’

While hurrying through a short stretch of
ravine midway between these and Winsome
Lagoon, Ko-ko’s burden showed signs of
returning consciousness. He presently
opened his eyes, and began to struggle
fiercely with those carrying him.

‘‘Do not hurt him,’’ ordered Gay, going
to their assistance. ‘‘The poor fellow is not
responsible. ’’

With a sudden burst of strength the man
broke away. But,
escape, he fell upon his knees at Gay’s feet.
Holding his hands clasped in an attitude of
supplication, he murmured, incoherently :

‘¢T will never break -the laws again, sir.
Do not leave me here to die in this awful
solitude. I—I will do right. I know I
broke the rules, but I have paid for it bit-
terly, sir. Will you take me back? Please,
for God’s sake, take me back, I haven’t
been here the three years—it has been ten
i thousand centuries. Every day was an age.
Time has been like a worm fattening upon
my brain. Each second it grew larger and
larger until at last it made me crazy. I
know I am crazy, but I will get well again
oe will only take me back.’?

tis strange appeal was not made con-
nectedly, but with bursts of tears and wild
gesticulations. As he finished he groveled
in the dust and writhed in an agony of
emotion. d

Gay was puzzled.. He could not under-
stand the full meaning of the man’s words.
That he was a castaway was now refuted.
He had evidently been marooned on the
island as a punishment for some misdeed,

 

’

 

instead of trying to

Years of solitude had turned his brain, and
naturally, too.

His language was that of an educated
man, and the well-chosen words coming, as
they did, from one so utterly wild and
savage in his appearance were strange
indeed.

Gay bent over, and softly placed his hand
upon the bowed head.

‘*Dismiss your fears, friend,’’ he said,
simply. ‘‘You are in safe hands. We are
unfortunate also, and we need your aid as
much as you need ours. No matter what
you have done, your suffering has long
since atoned for it. Now, calm yourself.
See, this lady sympathizes with you.’’

He made a sign to Bessie, whose sweet
eyes were sutfused with tears. She assisted
the poor creature to his feet and spoke kindly
to him. Her voice evidently’ awakened
memories long buried. Covering his face he
sobbed aloud. Miss Spooner freely mingled
her tears with his, and even Ko-ko was
compelled to cough. ;

Presently Dennis grew impatient. To
him, there was little time for sentiment.
To add to his increasing alarm, Mascot
began to show signs of uneasiness. Tho
intelligent animal sniffed at the air, finally |
breaking into a warning growl.

‘*If we stay here, sir,’? exclaimed the ex-
mutineer, ‘‘we’ll be captured as sure as
fate. Can’t you stow your talk until we’re
in hiding somewhere?’

‘*Right you are,’’ replied Gay, promptly.
‘Down, Mascot, do you want to lead them
to us?’’ Turning to their unfortunate com-
panion, he added:

‘“You understand that we are in a des-
perate situation. We are trying to escape
from a band of scoundrels who are even now
in pursuit of us. Can you lead us to some
place where we can either hide or defend
ourselves? You+—’’

The man interrupted him with an eager
gesture. Turning, he darted through the
woods, beckoning them to follow. There
was little hesitation, as can be easily imag-—
ined. Helter skelter, over fallen logs,
through thorny bushes, now running, now
walking, they went at their utmost speed.

Presently a shimmer of water became vis-
ible through the interlacing branches, then
their guide led them déwn to where, softly
rocking in a little cove almost embowered ©
in luxuriant vegetation, was a boat—their
own familiar quarter-boat. y

The joy of the party overbalanced their
amazement at finding the craft on this side —
of the islind. As will doubtless be remem-
bered Gay and Jack and Ko-ko had left it
moored ina miniature bay at the foot of
Mount Gasse on their return from the other
island. There was no time wasted in asking
questions. All were well content that they
had found a means of salvation.

CHAPTER XXXV.

BETWEEN TWO FIRES.

aN with you,’’ exclaimed Gay, hastily.

I ‘*We must get out of range before those —
scoundrels discover us.’’

- He stood guard with his rifle, while
the rest. of the party hurriedly embarked.
As he stepped over the gunwale in his turn
Dennis shoved the bow off shore, and Ko-ko
fell to lustily with the oars. Jack shipped
another pair, and the stanch craft was soon
breasting the miniature waves of the lagoon.

‘‘Where will we go, Dashleigh?’’ asked
Professor Gasse, anxiously.

‘*To the other island.’’ was the prompt
reply.

‘* But there are mutineers there, too, You —
said—er—that Cleary and Johnson were
there.’’

‘*Yes,
a dozen.’’

‘‘We have provisions,’’ said Bessie, indi-
cating the canned goods in the bottom of
the boat which Ko-ko had brought from the:
mutineers’ camp; ‘‘why can’t we sail in
some other direction. I would rather take
my chances on the wide sea than with even
two of the wicked men.’?

‘‘T have a plan by which we may secure
a craft large enough to sail to some inhab-_
ited place, sweetheart,’’ replied Gay. ‘‘E
we reach the other island, and put Cleary.
and Johnson out of harm’s way, there is 20
reason why we can’t construct a_ sailin
boat out of part of the wrecked yacht.’’

‘““By the way, I wonder what our new
friend did with the mutineers’ craft?’
spoke up Jack,

‘*By Jove! that’s so,’? hastily
the young leadér. on

He was.on the point of putting the ques:
tion to the castaway when the latter emil
with evident triumph, and said, quietly. |

“Do not worry about that boat, sir. It is
where they will never look for it withou
they use diving suits.’?’

‘“‘Then you sank it?’? exclaimed Gay
considerably relieved. . See

The man nodded. His face, which had
seemed harassed and worn, became brighter —
with each passing moment, and it wa evi-
dent that he was rapidly recovering his nor-
mal state of mind. oe

But it is better to face two than

responded

Gasse gazed longingly at an open place
‘yond the caves. He sighed deeply and
j remarked: Uae ,
‘‘To think of the many weary da

 

'

 

As the boat passed Ko-ko islet Professor
ee eS ne eee.

ee Re Oe Le.

_ the waters.

GOOD NEWS.

T

 

spent on it, now to leave when the full |
_ fruits of my labors almost await me. Alas!

alas!”’ :
‘*Poor, dear professor,’’? simpered Miss

_ Spooner, ‘‘I know you worked hard to make

the cayes fit for Bessie and me. I could

plainly see with what ardor—may I say

passionate love, he! he! he!—you arranged
our little bowers. I for one appreciate your
kindly acts. Even if the caves were a
little——”’

‘“Caves, thunder!’’ snorted the scientist.
‘Who said anything about the old holes? I
meant my tobacco. I am objecting because
we are leaving just as the soothing weed is
fit for gathering.
woman; I don’t care a snap for them.’

'As the boat neared the narrow passage
leading to the sea, Gay anxiously scanned
the surrounding shores. The channel was not
more than fifty feet in width, and the lad
realized that it would be fatal to them if the
mutineers formed an ambuscade on either
side.

‘Pull as swiftly as you can,’’ he said, in
a low voice. ‘‘Once through the passage,
and we are safe from——’?

He was interrupted by a faint shout. It
came from the right. Presently a half dozen
men, among whom were Allibone and Mun-
son Ferris, came into view from behind the
first fringe of trees. They no sooner beheld
the boat than off they started toward the
narrows at their utmost speed.

‘‘Tt’s a fight,’’ exclaimed Gay through his
set teeth.

‘¢Yes, it’s a fight,’? echoed Dennis, un-
slinging his gun. ‘‘And they have the ad-
vantage of us. They can pop at us from
behind trees, while we have no such shelter.

 It’ll be a one-sided fight, master.”’

‘*We’ll do the best we can. Double-bank
those oars there. Professor, give Jack a
hand at his; Dennis, you help Ko-ko. [ll
keep a bead on those fellows.”’

Jnder the combined efforts of the four at
the oars the quarter-boat fairly tore through
Her utmost speed was none too
great as the running mutineers were
speedily approaching the narrows.

‘*T think I will try a shot at them,’’ mut-
tered Gay, half to himself. ‘‘Perhaps :f I
pot one the others will become discouraged.’’

Steadyin
carefully aimed at the foremost. There was
a sharp, spiteful report, a scattering puff of

q smoke, but the human target did not slacken

his speed. He had missed. The effort had
one result, however, and it was not to Gay’s
liking. Suddenly one of the mutineers
halted, threw np his gun, and pulled trig-
ger. A shrill cry came from Miss Spooner,
and she keeled over against the professor.
Bessie quickly lifted the spinster to her
knees, at the same time anxiously inquiring
where she was wounded.
“TT was not—not hit, but my—my nerves
are shattered. Oh, I can never stand it, I
can never stand it. Those horrid men will
kill us. .Ow-w!?'
_ “T thought the old hen wasn’t hurt,’’
Professor Gasse muttered to Jack. ‘‘She
makes me sick a howling and screeching at
the slightest provocation. It’s just likea
female, they haven’t as much courage as a
—murder! Wow! Iam dead! The assassins
have killed me!’?

A second shot had come from the muti-
neer’s gun. This time the leaden pellet

found a mark, and that mark was the pro-
_fessor’s right ear.

While he was criticising
Miss Spooner retribution was on his trail.

_ The sting ‘of the bullet as it tore through

his ear felt like the branding of a hot iron,
and the scientist lost no time in discovering
that he was mortally wounded. He yelled
loud enough for a dozen men, and groveled
full length in the bottom of the boat to the
reat hindrance and discomfort of the
Other oarsmen. :
‘Gay saw at a glance that he was not in
danger of sudden death so he sternly bade
him make Jess noise. Bessie assistedyhim to
Check «the flow of blood, but not before it
had caused his expansive face to resemble a
Piece of very much under-doue beef.
_ The castaway silently took his place at
the oar.
On went the boat; on, on through the
Placid waters of the lagoon with every
Stroke of the oars, sending it nearer to the
fate-way of safety: The mutineers had
Ceased firing, aa were straining every

ace to reach the narrows in time to.

tercept the fugitives. _

The passage was not more than a hundred
yards in length, but that hundred yards

eant a great deal. Even if cleared in

fety the. boat would have a long run
ore getting out of range.

‘Bessie, you and Miss Spooner lie down
M the bottom,’ directed Gay. ‘‘You will
be less exposed there. No, sweetheart, do
ot object. I know you are brave enough

to face bullets, but why risk danger need-

lessly.»?

, The quarter-boat at last gained the en-

tr nee to the channel. The mutineers, with
llibone in the lead, were still a couple of

undred yards away. It was nip and tuck,

” iddenly Dennis left his oar and stood up.

5 ie re was an expression of grim determina-
nN upon his scarred face. Picking up his
- es filled the breech from the magazine
he 1a:

No use, sir. We've got to fight ’em.
1 pick one and I’ll take another.”?

Darn your old caves,,

himself as best he could, he.

 

Gay nodded. The very thought of shed-
ding human blood was repugnant to him,
but he felt that it must come to it. It was
his life and safety and the lives and safety
of his friends against the worthless existence
of the mutineers.

He and Dennis aimed together, but as
they pulled triggers the boat gave a slight
forward lurch. The report of their weapons
was followed by a shrill cry of agony, and
Allibone was seen to totter and fall headlong
in front of his companions. The foremost
stumbled, others piled against him, and in
an instant all was confusion.

‘‘Hurrah!?? shouted Jack, exultantly.
‘*Now we’ll have a chance. Before they can
untie themselves——’”’

The words froze in his throat. Out from
the bushes on the opposite side of the nar-
rows hurried a number of armed men—the
balance of the gang. The fugitives were
hemmed in between two fires!

(TO BE CONTINUED).
Om
[This Story will not be Published in Book-Form. ]

HEROES OF THE HILLS
Fighting the King ‘ the White Caps,

BY JOHN H. WHITSON,
Author of **Among the Gypsies.”
(“HEROES OF THE HILUS,’’ was commenced in
No. 327. Back numbers can be obtained of all News
Agents.)

—_+—_—_

CHAPTER XXVIII.
A STARTLING SUGGESTION.

FTER Purkett had gone Clyde leariied
, > that Casper was missing from the

\\" house. He quéstioned a_ servant,
a" who said Casper had gone down the
fence and out at the farther gate. Clyde
thought he would return in a short time,
and when Casper did not he began to grow
uneasy.

Then came the thought that Casper might
be trying to follow Pink Purkett!

Clyde went out of the house and down
the street toward the front gate much per-
turbed, and was peering down the street
when he saw a gentleman approaching.

The gentleman was rather clearly re-
vealed by the electric light. Clyde started,
the resemblance to his father was so
marked. He was sure it could be no other
when the man turned toward the Pettigrew

ate. ae!

‘Clyde threw the gate open and ran out to
meet and greet him.

‘‘So you’re here, eh? I supposed you’d
be from what you wrote me. There were a
good many things in that letter I didn’t
much like, and I thought I’d better run up
here and see what you were doing.’’

His words were more severe than his
manner.

He was a slender, dark man, dressed in a
business suit of gray and with iron-gray
hair and mustache. He looked keenly at
Clyde as the latter took him by the hand
and walked on at his side.

‘‘1¥m awfully glad to see you,’? Clyde
asserted, ‘‘for 1’m needing help now, I tell
you.’

‘“You’re always needing help, aren’t
you? I hope that Springfield trouble hasn’t
followed you up. What about the girl you
were so romantically determined to assist?’’

‘**Tt’s about her that I wanted to see you
and want your help. I’ve told Mrs. Petti-
grew all about it, and he was here just
now—that is Pink Purkett was here. And
Casper——’?

‘*Who’s Casper?”?

‘‘Why, I wrote you all about him, I am
sure, He's the boy that’s been staying with
me and helping me.”’

‘““Well, you may tell me about him
directly. How is Mrs. Pettigrew?’’

They were at the door, and shortly after-
ward were ushered into Mrs, Pettigrew’s
presence,

Though Clyde was worried over Casper’s
absence and anxious to acquaint his father
with his thoughts, he would have been
much more worried and anxious if he had
dreamed of the adventures through which
Casper was passing. :

As said, Bassett had lied to deceive Jennie.

But if Casper had not escaped he was not
long in doing so. Left alone in the shed by
Purkett and Bassett, who were pursuing
Jennie Scott, he wriggled and twisted his
bonds in a desperate endeavor to cast them

off.

He could not do this, but he did succeed
in slipping the knotted ends of the handker-
chief down about his neck and in getting
the gag out of his mouth.

After that he rolled near the shed en- |

trance and began to call softly for help.
He heard a boy go by, whistling, and he
called Jouder:

‘*Help! help!’?

‘‘Vhat vhas dot I hear?”?

‘<Here!’? called Casper. ‘‘Come and cut
me loose, won’t you? I’m tied up here.’’

“So hellup me cracious, is dot so?’’ the

 

boy asked, advancing with slow caution.
‘*You fall town und git catched in some-
t’ings, eh???

Directed by Casper’s voice, he stumbled
against him; then stooped and felt the cords.

‘Who die you oop dot vay? Dhot vhasa
shame! I ton’d understant it, a’ready !’’

He got his knife out and cut the bonds
without more ado, and Casper thanked him
and scrambled up.

‘*T was tied up by people in that house. I[
wonder if they’re gone now? I heard them
running.’’

‘*You holler for dhe bolice, eh?’’

‘*No, I don’t want the police yet. I’ve
got to see a friend of mive first. Keep still
about this, will you? I’m a thousand times
obliged to you, though, and I wish I had
something with which to pay you.’’

‘*Vell, id’s your peezness, of gourse, but
id seem a leetle foony to me—a leetle becu-
liar. Dhe bolice might fint dhem mans.’’

He would have talked further if Casper
had given him time. But Casper felt he
could not delay. So he thanked him again
and burried into the street.

At the corner he stood hesitating for some
moments, wondering if he ought to make a
personal search for Jennie before doing
anything else, and then decided that the
best plan was to go straight to Mrs. Petti-
grew’s and acquaint Clyde with the nature
of his discoveries.

Thus thinking, and with his mind busied
with the many startling occurrences of the
evening, the car he took whirled him so
rapidly that he found himself approaching
the Pettigrew home almost before he was
aware of it.

He was nearing the gate at the very
moment in which Clyde began again to talk
about him.

Clyde had already given a detailed ac-
count of most of the things that bad _ be-
fallen him since his entrance into Grassy
Valley, and was now speaking of the visit
of Pink Purkett to ‘‘The Maples,’’ and of
Casper’s continued and mysterious absence.

‘‘net me see that locket?’’? said Mr.
Conner. ‘‘That must have an important
bearing on the case.”’

Clyde took it out of his pocket, sprung it
open and passed it to his father.

The effect was electrical. As he took the
locket into his hands Philip Conner turned
deathly pale, while his whole form trembled.

Mrs. Pettigrew and Clyde stared at him
in amazement,

He turned the locket over, looked at it
closely and seemed unable to speak.

Then he found his tongue.

**That locket was worn by your sister,
Clyde! By your only sister, Cristabel» Of
course it can’t be that she’s alive? Tell me
just how this girl looks.’’

CHAPTER XXIX,
INTERESTING REVELATIONS.

Vj %. CONNER’s idea that possibly
N/\| Jennie Scott was his daughter and

Clyde’s sister Cristabel was re-
“S > ceived with a degree ot astonish-
ment hard to describe. The thought was so

new and strange to Clyde that it was diffi- |)

cult to believe the thing could be true.
Besides, Cristabel Conner had been. sup-
posedly dead for many years. That he had
or bad had an aunt living in St. Louis,
whose name was Scott, had not impressed
him in this connection, as the name isa
common one, and he knew many people who
bore it. Now, the fact became deeply
suggestive.

Clyde’s father, who was by nature of a
reticent and uncommunicative disposition,
had never conversed familiarly with him of
those old days, nor of his mother and sister.
Clyde knew his mother had died while his
sister was an infant, and that Cristabel was
thought to have perished during the yellow
fever epidemic in Memphis. Beyond that he
knew practically nothing.

He was not given time to do more than
express his surprise when Casper came into
the house, fairly panting with excitement.

Directed by a servant, Casper brushed
into the room where Mrs. Pettigrew and
Clyde sat with Mr. Conner, and exclaimed:

““T know where Jennie is—that is, I know
where she was. ‘Ihe very house down by
the river, and——’’ :

He stopped and caught his breath, as the
thought came that he might not be doing
just the proper thing. ~ ‘

‘‘Do you hear that, father?’’ said Clyde,
springing out of his chair. ‘*This is Casper,
and he——”’ :

Mr. Conner rose the same instant and
advanced toward Casper.

‘‘My boy, you can take us to that place,
and we will go at once.”’

“But she isn’t there now,’’ said Casper,
delighted with such speedy action, ‘‘There
wasn’t anybody in the house when I came
away. When I got the cords off me I——”’

Mr. Conner sat down.

‘‘We must have a little explanation, Take
the chair there, and tell us your story.
What house was it and what did you see

and do?’’ ,

Casper dropped into a seat by the door,
but Clyde remained standing,

It troubled Casper to know just how and |

where to begin, but he acquainted them
finally with all that had happened him from

| anuther.

 

the tinie he left the Pettigrew residence up
to the moment of his return.

The knowledge that the gentleman to
whom he was talking was Clyde’s father,
with the suggestion that Jennie Scott was
possibly Clyde’s sister, befogged him some
and made it harder for him to relate his
story connectedly.

‘*We’ll go to that place and see what we
can learn,’’ said Mr. Conner, rising.

‘« And the sooner we go the better will be
our chances. These people may abandon the
house suddenly, as they did that other.”’

Clyde and Casper were quite as ready as
Mr. Conner, and they left ‘‘The Maples’?
without further delay.

Mr. Conner hailed the first cab he saw,
and they were driven at a furious pace to
the house by the river. Arriving there they
found it dark and seemingly deserted.

Police assistance was now sought by Mr.
Conner and two officers opened the front
door and let them into the house.

It was just as when Jennie Scott had fled
out into the night. An overturned chair
gave evidence of a struggle, and the table
was askew against the partition wall with
the stool still on it,

A lamp was lighted and the house
searched. Mr. Conner followed the move-
ments of the officers with interest.

In front of a mantel he stopped, star-

-|ingly, then darted forward and took in his

hand an old-fashioned photograph.

It was the photograph found after the
death of Mrs. Scott, and the one sent to
Bassett in Kansas City. By reason of her
resemblance to the face it bore, Bassett had
been able to identify Jennie Scott in the
Marcy opera house.

Jennie had been looking at the photograph
at the moment wien Purkett; and Bassett
came into the room, and had dropped it
there, to think of it no more for hours after.

‘The only one in existence,’’? said Mr.
Conner, reverently_ kissing it. ‘‘And I
thought it was gone forever. Look at it,
Clyde. It is your mother’s picture.’?

There was at Memphis an enlarged copy
of this original, on which Clyde had many
times gazed, so that he was instantly ready
to verify his father’s statement.

It was the only thing found to which Mr.
Conner attached any value. However, noth-
ing could have been of more importance. It —
strengthened .the feeble conviction that
Jennie Scott was none other than Cristabel
Conner, and spurred him to further efforts.

When the search was ended an officer re-
mained in charge of the premises, while
the party descended to the street.

Going direct to police headquarters, Mr.
Conner told his story, and had officers de-
tailed to look for Purkett and the young
actor and Jennie Scott. :

Assisted by Clyde and Casper, Mr. Conner
himself visited various parts of the city,
and went with officers to the late residence
of his sister, Mrs. Scott. They also looked
up the man who had it in charge, received
some papers from him, and were told by
him something of the efforts that were being
put forth by a disreputable attorney named —
Clem Baker to establish the claim of an
unknown boy and girl to the property. ~

The entire night was consumed in this

work, and when Mr, Conner and the boys _

got back to ‘‘The Maples,’’ the morning mail
was being distributed.

There was a letter in it for Mr. Conner,
which he opened and read at once. It
proved to be from Pink Purkett, and ran as
follows:

‘“You’re a smart one, Mister Philip
Conner, but you don’t ketch me. Ime to old
a bird. You thought wede come back to
that there house, but you. see we didn’t,
Youalls can watch it a month and you~
won’t git us. I know that my little game is
up, but I haint beat yit. If I can’t git a
wad of money one way, Ime goin’ to git it
The girl is your daughter. I’ve
got her whur you’ll never find her, too!
Plank down Five Thousan dollars and you
kin have her. If you refuse, you’ll never
see her again. You’ll know wholam and _
that I mean bizness when I sign my name, _
Bill Latimer, utherwise Pink Purkett. ae

When youre reddy to negoshiate and want
further purticlers, put personals in the
Globe-Democrat or the Post-Dispatch.»

‘Bill Latimer!’? Mr. Conner, gasped,
sinking into a chair, with face ashy and —
hands trembling. ‘‘He has never forgiven _
me for that Arkansas affair.’?
Mrs. Pettigrew had come forward, and to _
all he showed the letter from Pink Purkett,
‘Bill Latimer is a desperate villain,
whom I had sent to the penitentiary ten
years ago in Arkansas for timber stealing.

He threatened my life at the time, but I~

thought nothing of it, and, in fact, had —
almost forgotten him. It seems he has not
forgotten me. rs Sine

‘*There’s one thing. The letter shows that _
he thinks the girl is my daughter.

‘*T don’t see how it can be, though, even |
yet. I must look further into the matter, —
Would you give the money he demands and
get at the thing without delay, or would
you proceed slowly?’

He was quivering with excitement and _
unable to discuss the matter calmly, and
eae Pettigrew felt her inability to advise —

im. a

(TO BE CONTINUED.) .

 
CrOoOD

 

NEWS.

 

 

 

ISSUED WEEKLY.

 

NEW YORK, OCTOBER 10, 1896.

 

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: Contents of this Number.

SERIAL STORIES,
“Lad Electric’s Trip Abroad,” by Barry
Tallyho. -

‘Side Partners,” by Walden F. Sharp.

‘From Plebe to Ensign,” by Enrique H.
Lewis.

‘Jud and Joe, Printers and Publishers,”
by Harry Dangerfield.

‘‘Heroes of the Hills,” by John H. Whit-
son.

“Gay Dashleigh in the South Seas,” by Ar-
thur Sewall.

“Bouncer Brown,” by Will Winner.

SHORT STORIES,
‘Lucien, the Young Detective,’”’ by Victor
St. Clair.
“Face to Face With a Mad Dog,” by Henry
Clarke.
‘How Billy Earned His Bicycle.”

REGULAR DEPARTMENTS,

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

‘How to Do Things,” by David Parks.

“Our Stamp Album.”

“Mail Bag,” ‘Exchange Department,”
“Club Notices,” ete,

ATTENTION, BOYS!

—— e ———_

 

 

 

 

At the special request of a very
large number of our readers, we
shall begin next week the repub-
lication of that famous story,
which has long been out of print,
entitled

CADET CAREY;

The Young Soldier’s Legacy,
A ROMANCE OF A WEST POINT BOY.
BY

LIEUT. LIONEL LOUNSBERRY.

SHORTLY!

A splendid new story, dealing
with events in the Indian Mutiny,
by that popular author,

 

 

oughly taught.

$uort TALKS ———
With fue Bovs.

EDITED BY ARTHUR SEWALL.

>

 

 

J. H. W., Pinewood, Tenn., writes: ‘‘I am
fifteen years of age, and have a desire to be-
cowe a civil engineer. Must I graduate? Should
I go through the eighth grade, and get my
diploma, and then take up engineering? What
studies should I study most? Please give me
information on this subject.”’

A. H. W., Cincinnati, Ohio, writes: “In your
‘Short Talks with the Boys’ in Goop NrEws
will you please tell me something of civil en-
panpering, and what is the best way to learn
it?’

Civil engineering is a magnificent profes-
sion, and one which holds out the very
greatest rewards, both in money and in
glory. But it is well to remember that suc-
cess comes only to the one who has a nat-
ural aptitude for the profession and who is
an indefatigable student as well.

Most boys are apt to be fascinated by the
very thought of civil engineering. lt opens
up visions of delightful journeys, excur-
sions to foreign climes and a good time
generally. But, as a rule, they forget
the years spent in study, the brain-racking
problems to be solved, and the never-ending
application. As in medicine, and in a lesser
degree in the law, the period of study is
never over. You must, keep up with the
times, the new developments, the new dis-
coveries, or you will sink into a mediocre
position. But this, however, should not
alarm an earnest, ambitious lad. The greater
the effort the more valuable the reward.

There are many different kinds of civil
engineer's, as, for instance, the mining en-
gineer, the hydraulic engineer, the electri-
cal engineer, the sanitary engineer, and the
constructive engineer. A student should
study all branches, and obtain a certain
familiarity with the practical work of
each. Then, as this is emphatically the day
of specialists, let him adopt some one branch
and endeavor to make himself a recognized
authority therein.

Opinions differ as to just what steps to
take, and what is the best method to em-
ploy to become a civil engineer. Some hold
that a practical course from the start is
necessary, and others believe that a num-
ber of years should be devoted to theory
before the practical part be taken up.’ I
understand, however, that it is the general
belief that an aspirant should commence to
direct his studies at an early age.

I strongly advise all boys who intend
adopting civil engineering as a vocation,
and who can afford the expense to enter
some first-class technical school, say at the
age of sixteen or seventeen. This course
generally occupies about three years. If
possible, while studying, make some ar-
rangement with an active surveyor to act
as his assistant and so gain a practical
experience as well.

If your means will not allow you to take
a college course, the only other thing to be
done is to obtain a position in the office of
some civil engineer. ‘To do this, however,
you would have to be well grounded in
mathematics. If you are bright, and study
hard, you could probably at last obtain a
fair knowledge of the profession. But this
method is’ difficult and tedious, and you
would find yourself greatly handicapped in
competing with those who have been thor-

NED BrvuceE, Lee Park, Neb., writes: “TI live
on a farm about four miles from town. I have
a common school education, having graduated
from a high school this spring. I am nineteen
years of age, but am only 4 feet 10 inches in
height, and weigh 87 pounds. I am too light for
farm work, so would like. to ask you about
a trade. I would like to go further with my
education, but as I cannot go away to school [
study at home. I will have a chance to enter a
watch-repairing shop next spring to learn the
trade. What do you think of this trade? Is it
a good one, and does an apprentice get any
pay? I believe that I should like this trade.”

I think, taking everything into considera-
tion, that it would not bea bad idea for
you to accept the opportunity offered you
to learn watch-repairing. , This certainly
would not overtax your physical strength,
and if isa pleasant and fairly profitable
occupation,

Iam a great believer in every boy, no
matter what his prospects may be, learning
a trade. It is a great protection against the
buffets of fortune. Fora good mechanic can
always manage to make a living in almost
all parts of the civilized world.

That you think you would like the trade
is another thing in favor of your learning
it. There is no use in attempting anything
for which you have a positive distaste. In
ninety-nine cases out of a hundred this will
lead only to ultimate failure.

Yes, an apprentice is generally paid; not
very much, but enough, with strict econ-
omy, to support life. In many cases an ap-
prentice is boarded in his master’s family,

 

WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON,

studies.

like your idea of continuing your

schvol, you ought to be sufficiently ad-
vanced to goon by yourself, and, without
aid, to greatly increase your store of
knowledge.

I would also advise a course of light gym-
nastics. I think it would benefit you.

G. J. L., Jr., Pottsville, Pa., writes: ‘Will
you please tell me in your ‘Short Talks’ some-
thing about bookkeeping? I would like to be-
come a bookkeeper, but cannot get a chance to
get a position in this town, and would like very
much to get a situation in the city. Do you
think it advisable to try to obtain a place in the
city as assistant bookkeeper (for although I
can keep an ordinary set of books, still I have
had no experience) until I have become wore
fitted for a more responsible position? About
what salary could I get, and what does an as-
sistant do as a rule?”

The position of bookkeeper is, of course,
most respectable and honorable employ-
ment, but I doubt if I would advise a boy
of brains and ambition to become one. It
is very rare that there is any future in it
to speak of. A bookkeeper may rise to the
receipt of a yearly salary of fifteen or
eighteen hundred dollars a year, but that is
the end of it, unless he uses his position as
a stepping stone to other things, and that is
more or less difficult to do.

If you have friends in the city, and are
assured of a position, it wouid be well to
take it, however. There are more chances
by far for an enterprising young man in
the city than there are in the country, that
is, if he has friends and can secure an open-
ing. On the other hand, the hardest of. all
things to do is to get your foot on the first
round of the ladder, and for a friendless,
penniless young man to come to a large city
in search of employment is, to my mind,
the height of folly.

An assistant bookkeeper would probably
receive, to begin with, about forty dollars a
month, and his duties are what the term
implies, that is, he is aid to the bookkeeper
in his work and is under his orders. From
what you say you are evidently competent
to fill such a position.

SpeciAL Noticr.—Many communications,
improperly addressed to this department,
are answered in the ‘‘ Mail Bag.”’

——_ > +> —____
PENMANSHIP AND MORALITY.

‘*Before beginning my lecture,’’ remarked
the professor, ‘‘I will, in order to more
fully establish the influence of handwriting
upon character, ask some gentleman in the
audience to come forward and give mea
sample of his penmanship. ’?’
A pale young man with short hair rose and
stepped to the platform. Seizing the pen, he
hastily wrote a few words and then returned
to his seat.
‘*Excellent,’’? remarked the professor, as
he surveyed the man’s work. ‘‘This writing
shows the advantage of acquiring a fixed
style—I don’t suppose the man who wrote
this could vary in his penmanship if he
practiced a month of Sundays. It shows an
adherence to established principles, un-
swerving directness of purpose, a fixed
moral code, an aspiration for orderly meth-
ods. I should classify it as a combination of
conscience and commerce, so to speak. It’s
the style of writing Oliver Cromwell might
have affected. And now, young man, may
I inquire your business?’’
‘‘Hain’t had no business lately,’’ replied
the young man, hoarsely. ‘‘I’ve just finished
a term in prison for forging checks.’?
—_—____~+-e-»-___-
A FABLE FOR FATHERS.

‘ cctaane
He was the son of a worthy citizen, and
had just returned from college. His father
was a brusque, matter-of-fact man, who
had no liking for anything pronounced, and
he noticed with sorrow tbat his son returned
with the latest thing in collars, and various
other insignia of dudedom. The old gentle-
man surveyed him critically when he ap-
peared in his office, and then blurted out:
‘*Young mau, you look like an idiot.’’
Just at that moment, and before the
young man had time to make a fitting
reply, a friend walked in.
‘Why, hello, Billy, have you returned???’
he asked. ‘‘Dear me, how much you re-
semble your father !”’
‘*So he has been telling me,’’ replied
Billy.
‘ind from that day to this the old gentle-
man has had no fault to find with his son.

—— + oe ‘

KICKING THE BUCKET.
As two gentlemen were walking in Chi-
cago early in the morning, when, the door-
steps and pavements were being washed,
one of them stumbled against a maid’s
bucket.
‘*My dear sir,’’ said his friend, ‘‘I lament
your death exceedingly.’’
‘*My death! What do you mean???
‘*Yes, you have just kicked the bucket.’
‘‘Not so,’”? he replied; ‘‘I have only
turned a little pale.’?’

—_~> ++ ___-

Master—‘‘How is it that you don’t know
your lesson?”’ :
Pupil—‘‘I can’t learn it.’’
Master (angrily)—‘‘If it were not for me

 

faving graduated from a high

EASILY TOLD.

 

Two men were standing outside a jewel-
er’s window, admiring the gorgeous display
of glittering jewels that lay before them.
Presently one of them, pointing to an object
in a red plush tray, said:

‘*Just look at that scarf pin representing
a fly. Any one can tell that’s not real.’

‘*Well, I should think so,’’ answered his
friend.

‘*Whoever saw a common fly with such
a bright appearance? Why, it makes me
weary when I think that the jeweler who
produced that fondly hoped that some one
would purchase it to deceive his friends. If
Isaw that on a man’sscarf I could tell
directly that it was enameled imitation,’’

At that moment the object of their con-
demnation moved across the tray, flew in
the air and vanished. The two men looked
at each other, simply gasped, and moved
away without a word.

———_~>-—_0--@____~
SNAP SHOTS,

‘“*Pat, you must be an early riser. I
always find you at work the first thing in
the morning.’’

‘“*Indade and Oi am, sor.
trait, Oi do be thinking.’’

nnn your father is an early riser, too,

It’s a family

“Me feyther, is it? He roises that early
that if he’d go to bed a little later he’d
meet himself gettin’ up in the mornin’.’’

-

 

 

Client—‘‘Y-y-you a-a-are a-a sco-scoun-
drel, s-s-sir!’?

Lawyer—‘‘Retract that word this mo-
ment.’’

Client—‘‘ N-n-n-no, s-s-sir. I-I-I’m t-t-too
gla-gla-glad to g-g-get it out!’

-

Uncle Bob—‘‘I hope, Tommie, you are a
favorite with your teacher?”’

Tommie—‘‘] think I must be. She can’t
seem to get enough of me, or she wouldn’t
keep me in so much.’’

——s.———

 

 

‘*Close up, boys; close up!’’ said a colonel
to his regiment. ‘‘If the enemy were to fire
on you when you are straggling along like
that, they wouldn’t kill a single man of
you. Close up!”’

Lady of the House (to tramp going
through the gate)—‘‘Here! you promised to
saw that wood if I gave you a meal.”’

Tramp—‘‘ Yes, madame, and I have ful-

Your grammar is somewhat defective, 1 am
pained to observe.”’

a

Professor (to young lady student)—‘‘ Your

passed.’?
Young Lady—‘‘Oh, I am so glad.”’
‘OWhy???
‘*E do so love a tight squeeze.’

a ey

Willie—‘‘You’ll have to wait some time
yet. Sister has only got on her bonnet.’’
Featherstone (who has invited her to go
to the play, and is anxiously waiting)—
‘*Why, what else has she to do???
Willie—‘‘She’s got to look in the glass.’’

erent Gy eee

intelligence ought to see that.’
Biggs—‘‘That may be. But understand,
sir, that ’'m nota man of ordinary intel-
ligence.’’

—_—-*+-——

the circus, eh, Brown???

myself; but somebody had to come with thé
boy, you see,’’ was the reply.

‘*Ts that your boy???

the last moment, poor little chap, and so
brought a neighbor’s. Ah, me! we were al
young once, Smith.’’

 

changing his situation. He applied for any
and every situation he heard of, and which,
by any stretch of imagination he presume

he could fill. 3

When he died a wag suggested for his
epitaph the following, which, however, was
not adopted:

for which he never applied.”’

‘*You’ve been riding a bicycle, I hear,”
said one clerk to another.

‘‘Just for exercise, you know.”’

‘*It has reduced your weight, I think?’’
** Yes, I have fallen off a great deal.’’

you show me some flat-irons ?”
Shopman—‘With pleasure.” And after
undoing about a dozen bundles, the lady
saw one the right size and asked the pric
Shopman—‘Twenty-five cents, pleas
Shall I send it?”

Old Lady—“Oh, no; I don’t want to buy
it. I have just bought one across the roaG

 

you’d be the biggest blockhead on earth.’’

 

and I thought I had paid too much.”

 

 

filled my promise. I saw it as I passed by. | P

position is very low, and you have only just —

Jiggs—‘‘Pshaw! any man of ordinary 7

Smith (at the circus)—‘‘Never too old for

Brown—‘‘I don’t care anything about it 4

‘*Well—er—no; my boy was taken ill at -

Jones in his lifetime was very fond of 7

 

‘*Here lies John Jones, in the only plac? :

Old Lady (entering shop)—‘Please will =]

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

SIDE PARTNERS;

CHUMS THROUGH THICK AND THIN,

BY WALDEN F. SHARP,

Author of “For His Honor’s Sake,” ‘Glim Peters,” etc., etc.

 

(Sip PARTNERS”’ was commenced in No. 834 Back numbers can be obtained of all News Agents.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

The story begins during the progress of the
State Fair in Kansas. ‘Two boys, Ned Billings,
and Nat Sanders areexhibiting a phonograph.
Ned has an altercation with the mayor’s son,
who tries to cheat him. Afterward he goes to
the race track. He sees a rough-looking man
drop a little girl over the fence in front of the
horses. He rescues the child, but disappears
before the girl’s father can thank him. After-
ward Ned visits a side-show, where Kidney
Peters, the champion light-weight boxer of
Kansas, has issued a challenge to all comers.
Ned recognizes Peters as

 

 

 

the phonograph, and, by means of some old
corks which they find, they blacken their faces.
Soon after the aeronaut, the boxer, and two
| other men come to the house. They have with
| them a little girl who is unconscious. One of
the men is offered a thousand dollars to get rid
of the girl. He consents and leaves the house
with the child. Ned and Nat intercept him in
the grounds and force him to give up the girl,
who turns out to be the saine one that Ned had
rescued at the fair. Some time after another
of the gang leaves the house and begins to dig,
evidently about to bury something. Nat lays
him low with a well-directed stone and takes

 

 

‘*Not for a minute!?’

‘*You’d give us the benefit of the doubt,
wouldn’t you?’’

‘*What do you mean?’’ :

‘¢T mean that if I’d tell you the exact spot
where the fellow was put you’d be willing
to go and see if you couldn’t find him, |
wouldn’t you?’’

**T don’t know but I would.”’

‘Well, if you’ll come back with me [’ll
take you right to the place.”’

‘* All right—steam ahead.’’

Ned started back through the yard toward |
the old house. He left-the graveled walk
about the place where he and Nat had had
the set-to with the robber, and walked
quickly to the spot where the man had been
left, bound hand and foot and securely
gagged.

‘* Look in there,’’ said Ned, indicating the
place. *

The officer stooped and parted the bushes.

It was dark, and he used his bull’s-eye |
lantern.

‘<T don’t see anything,’’ said the officer.

‘*What’s that?’’ cried Ned.

‘*T say there’s no one here.”’

Ned stooped down and looked in himself.

} can

|off the light with an angry ‘‘snap.”’

we’re after and it’ll go all-fired hard with
you, young fellow.”’
‘*Well, I'll take the chances. Come on,’’
They approached the house cautiously.
Ned took the officer round by the back
way.
‘*Now, don’t say a word,’’ warned Ned,

|in a whisper, ‘‘because there are three of

them to only two of us, and I only want to
show you that I’m right, that’s all. You
come back here with the other two
officers and arrest all of them.’’

Exercising the greatest care, the police-
man, led by the boy, entered the house and
proceeded noiselessly along the narrow hall.

They arrived at last at the room where
the robbers should be, but they weren’t
there.

The officer flashed his lantern around the
room.

‘«That settles it!’’ he exclaimed, shutting
¢*T’m
dead sure now that you’re working us for
something. Come on without any more
tomfoolery.’’

Ned could say nothing.

It certainly did look as though he was
playing some dodge on the officer.

They rejoined the

 

theman who had dropped
the little girl upon the
race track, and de-
nounces him. Just at
that moment the mayor’s
s0n appears with a
policeman, whom he or-
ders to arrest Ned. The
boy gets away, however,
with the officer in pur-
suit. He sees a balloon
just about to ascend, and
ieaps into the basket.
The aeronaut is a part-
ner of Peters’, and recog
nizes the lad. He de
clares that he will throw
him over. But Ned seizes
a parachute and jumps
out, leaving his baffled
enemy above him, soar-
ing high toward the
clouds. The parachute
falls slowly and descends
with Ned into the Kansas
River. The boy manages
to disengage himself and
rises to the surface. AS
he does so, he sees near
him a boat containing
three men, whom, to his
horror, he recognizes as
tho policemen who had
been trying to capture
him. They. drag him into
the boat and bear hiin
away .to jail. After he
has been locked up, Nat
comes to visit him, and
is admittea to his cell.
Nat displays a red wig, a
counterpart of his own
hair, and orders Ned to
put it on and to change
clothes with him. Ned
demurs, but finally con-
sents, and passes out,
undetected by the jail
officers, who think that
heis Nat. Once outside,
he manages to convey to
his partner, through the
window, a file. Nat, with
the aid of this instru-
ment, escapes from the
jail. He goes to the hotel,
where the two boys have
a room, and finds a note
from Ned, saying that
he has gone to a certain
house, giving the street
and number, and will be
back soon. The explana-
tion of this is, that after
Ned leaves the jail and
returns to the hotel, he
finds a colored man, who
tells him that he can
make twenty-five dollars
by taking his phono-
graph to a certain house.
Ned does 80, and meets a
fentleman who requests
him to hide behind a cur- ¥
tain and take down by .
means of his phonograph

&@ conversation that is

about to take place. Ned

Consents. Scarcely is he

hidden, when two men

enter the room, one of

as the aeronaut and the

 

THE ROAR OF THE

whom he recognizes
other as the lover.

An exciting interview follows, in which
the two scoundrels demand ten thousand
dollars for the return of the gentleman’s

Child, whom they have kidnapped. The gen-
tleman refuses, and the villains stab
They then go to the safe and remove therefrom
® valuable package. Ned tries to stop them,
but is overpowered and locked up in the safe.
he scoundrels then set fire to the house, and
Make their escape. The conflagration is getting
Under terrific headway, when Nat Saunders,
Whe has come in search of his friend and has

heard his outery, rushes through the flames*

Into the house. But he is unable to see any-
thing of his friend, and yet he is sure that he
heard Ned yell. He looks about the room and
Stumbles across the body of the murdered man.

ear by is a package which Nat picks up, and
finds that it contains two dynamite cartridges,
le breaks the window to let in air, and finds
the phonograph. He starts it and learns from
it that Ned js confined in a vault. He finds the
door, and Ned answers him from the inside.
With the aid of one of the cartridges the vault
S blown open and Ned escapes. The boys
; Top from the window, are in danger of arrest
“8 incendiaries, but manage to get away and
a refuge in a deserted farm-house. Ned
mi S Nat all that has occurred, and they deter-
Mine to hunt down the murderers. They hide

him. |

 

 

FALLS WAS GROWING LOUDER.

| possession of the package, which contains |
|money. The two boys determine to go to the ,
police station and tell-what they know. On

their way there, however, they are arrested.
That they have the child and the package of |
/ money with them looks bad for them. They
are the victims of their own desire to do the
right thing under a very queer combination of
circumstances.

 

CHAPTER X.
NED AND NAT SETTLE WITH THE POLICE.

OW, see here, Mr. Officer,’’ said Ned, |
stopping in the road and addressing |
the man who was jerking him along,

‘‘f tell you you have made a big |
mistake.’?

‘(Lying won’t help your case any,’’ ae |
turned the policeman, severely. {

‘s} understand that,’? returned Ned; |
‘‘but I suppose that I and my friend are
entitled to a little consideration, ain’t we?”’

‘*What kind of consideration?’’

‘‘Why, if we tell you that we captured
one of the real robbers and tied him hard |
and fast, and hid him away under the
bushes, would you believe us?’’

   

key).

 

THE TWO BOYS WERE HASTENING TO THEIR DOOM WITH RACE-HORSE SPEED.

The policeman was right. The robber was
gone!

‘*Well,’’? muttered Ned, ‘‘this beats me!’’

‘¢What’s your game, anyhow?’’ asked the
officer, angrily.

‘‘Now, look here, Mr. Policeman,’’ re-
turned Ned, indignantly, ‘‘I don’t know }

| what I and my friend have done to make

you doubt our story. I say that we captured
one of those robbers just as he was digging }
up that roll of money. Here’s where he did |
the digging.”’
Ned walked over to the spot where there
was a small heap of earth and pointed it |
out to the officer. He looked for the spade, |
but it was gone. |
‘* Nonsense, ”’
did that.’’
‘All right, if you’re bound to think so. |
But those robbers are in the house, up
there. Now, if you think I’m lyin’ to you,
you can just run up there with me and look
into the place. That’ll convince you mighty |
quick that I’m telling the truth.’’ |
The officer hesitated a moment.
‘*Very well,’’ he returned, finally, ‘‘I’ll
go up there with you, and if the scheme|
don’t pan out, I’ll swear that you’re the kid

said the officer; ‘‘some dog |

| their

other officers, with Nat,
just outside the fence,
in the road.

‘Find anything?"
queried the other two
policemen, in one
breath.

‘*No,’’ replied the
first policeman, ‘'and
no signs of any one, I
don’t know. what. his
dodge was, but it failed
to work.’’

The other
laughed.

‘*Couldn’t you find
that fellow we eap-
tured?’’ queried Nat of
his friend.

‘*No,’? replied Ned,
“the fellow was
rone,.’’

“The best thing we
ean do .with them,’?
said the second officer,
‘tis to hustle them to
the station.’’

‘*That’s right,’’ re-
turned the first man,
‘and let’s be lively.’’

The three policemen,
with their two pris-
oners started off down
the road.

They had hardly pro-
ceeded twenty yards
when three men leaped
suddenly out of the
bushes and confronted
the officers.

‘‘Wait a minute, you
fellows,’’ said one of the
men.

Ned recognized the
voice instantly.

‘*Say,’’ he whispered
to the man that held
him, ‘‘there are the
robbers now. Look out
for them !’’

‘*What do you want?”?
asked the first police-
man.

‘*We want those two
bundles you are carry-
ing.’’

‘*Who are you???

‘‘None of your busi-
ness.’’

‘“‘We are policemen,
and 1 guess you three
men had better come
along with us.’?

‘*T guess we hadn’t!
Are you goin’ to give
up them packages???

Crack! crack! crack!

This was the officers’
reply to the robber’s
: demand.
pane pistols rang out almost like one
shot.

‘“‘Give it to ’em!’’ cried the robber-
leader, furiously, and the three men drew
own revolvers and attacked the
policemen.

The battle became general, but the ad-
vantage, although the officers fought yali-
antly, was all on the side of the robbers,

One policeman went down, another was
wounded, and the third, seeing the condition

officers

|of his companions, took to his heels and

fled, carrying the little girl with him.
When the battle had been commenced in
earnest, Ned and Nat were left to them-

| selves.

It may well be surmised that they made
good use of their legs. 7
‘Hold your horses, Nat,’? said Ned:
‘‘let’s go back and lay low in the bughes

along the road and see how the fight comes
out.

**All right.”?
[he two boys returned and took up a

“position where, aided by the bright moon-

light, they could see the entire battle.
It was short and decisive.
When the third officer had fled the three

 
10

robbers retreated to the side of the road
and held a hasty council.

‘‘We’ve got to pull out of this in pretty
short order,’’ said the balloonist, whose
voice Ned had recognized before,

‘<Dey’ll have de hull town out here look-
in’ fer us arter a w’ile,’’? came the voice of
Peters.

‘‘We’ll have to fly our kite for North
Dakota,’’ said Guff Henderson. .-

‘*Shall we strike for Sykeston?’?

‘Yes, an’? meet Bluff Henly in Minne-
apolis. He’s got a scheme for rushin’
opium across the border.’’

‘‘Dere’s a freight pulls out fer Kansas
City in about fifteen minits,’’ remarked
Peters; ‘‘I think we’d better take it.’?

‘‘Why not take the passenger?’’ queried
Henderson; ‘‘I’ve got that wad of ten
thousand.”’

‘‘Never in the world,’’ returned Phelps,
who seemed to be the brains of the crowd;
‘“‘they’ll watch every train for us now.
We’ll take a side-door sleeper. Let’s cut for

~ the depot.’’

If I’m not mistaken, here

‘All right.
Skip through the

comes a gang of police.
woods.’?

An instant later the robbers had disap-
peared.

‘“‘That’s our cue, Nat,’’ said Ned, starting
to his feet.

‘*What’s that?’

‘The side-door sleeper for Kansas City.”’

**T can’t lug this phonograph with me.’’

‘‘Of course not! The machine’s broken,
anyhow. Take off the cylinder and put it
in your pocket, and then we’ll hurry to the

depot.” °

The cylinder was soon taken off, and then
the two friends started on a run.

They reached the railroad yards a few
minutes before the train pulled out. °

‘Get on the trucks, my boy,’’ whispered
Ned.

The two friends crawled under one of the
box cars, and soon had themselves fixed for

their long ride.

ton.

‘‘We can’t follow those robbers all the
way to North Dakota, Ned,’’ said Nat,
while they were waiting for the train to
start.

‘*Don’t have to,’’ returned Ned.

HOW'S that? Won’t they get away from
us??

‘*‘We know where .they’re going, don’t
we???
‘TT heard one of them say, but Ll’ve for-
gotten the name of the town.,’’

‘*Sykeston. I made a note of it ’cause I
thought it would come handy. All we’ve

ot todo, Nat, isto make a bee line for
ykeston, and then wait for our men to
show up.

‘“That’s the talk!’?

Just then the train pulled out.

In a few moments the boys were speeding

_ away on the trucks of a fast freight.

CHAPTER XI.
“NED AND NAT TRY A FIRE-ESCAPE.

Y jingo, Ned! there’s our friend, the
mayor’s son |’
¢ ed and Nat had gotten as far as

* Minneapolis, on their way to Sykes-

From Kansas City on they had abandoned

the trucks and ridden in first-class sleeping

cars,
The train for Jamestown, North Dakota,
did not leave until evening, and the two

_ boys found, themselves with a\few hours of

leisure on their hands.
_ They were spending the time in looking

about Minneapolis, when Nat noticed two
persons a few yards in front of him.

He turned hastily to his friend and spoke

te . the words that open this chapter.

— Are you sure of it, Nat?’’ asked Ned.
_‘*No doubt of it—see for yourself.’’
A few moments’ observation convinced
Ned that his chum was right.
It was indeed the mayor’s son.
‘What do you suppose he’s doing up
here? Who’s that other fellow with him???
“T don’t know who that other fellow is,
but you can be sure of one thing, Ned.”’
 **What’s that?’?

_ “Why, that we cut quite a figure with
their being in this town.”’

» ‘How. so???
Don't you think the police in Topeka
have an idea that you and I did that killing
and fired the house?”’

“Of course eM have,”’

y

fy

“‘T don’t hardly see how they can have

that idea, now though—come to think the

matter over.’?’
“Why?”

* ‘Cause, didn’t the real robbers have a

brush with the police the night we got out
of the town??? : ! 3
_ **Yes, and you mark my words, Nat:
Everybody will think that Billings &
Sanders are in with those robbers.’’

“You're joking!”

‘Not much. You know when I took the
officer with me to find the fellow we had
eaptured and hidden in the bushes. We

ee him, could we?’’

_ “When I saw that the robber had given
the slip I persuaded the officer to go into

ae house and told him he’d find the robbers

GooDpD

‘*¥ou didn’t find them there?’’

‘*No; the officer naturally felt certain,
then, that k was playing some dodge on
him, and the way he jerked me along wasa
caution.’’

‘*What of it, Ned?’

‘‘The police will think that our dodge in
steering them back into that yard was to
give the robbers time to lay for them, or
get away.”’

‘tT shouldn’t wonder if that were so.”’

‘*‘T think it is. And I’ll tell you what I
think we ought to do.”’

‘¢What??’

‘*Follow those fellows in front, there, and
see if we can’t find out what they’re up
here for.’’

‘*1?m with you, old boy! Lead off!??

For several blocks the two boys shadowed
the mayor’s son and the man who Was with
him.

This was no difficult matter, as the street
was full of people, and whenever the two
**suspects’’ turned and looked back (which
was not often) Ned and Nat dodged out of
sight in the throng.

At last the two turned
House, walked across
ascended the stairway.

Ned and his friends were not over three
yards behind them, on the winding stair-
case, when they struck the third landing
above.

The mayor’s son and his companion,
seemingly oblivious of the fact that they
were being followed, walked along the hall
and stopped before a door that lead toa
suite of two rooms, which they occupied.

Unlocking the door, they entered, threw
themselves wearily into a couple of chairs,
drew cigars from their pockets and began to
smoke,

The mayor’s son had closed the door
securely, but the transom above the.door
was half open,

‘<T tell you, Nick Gubbins, that the Kan-
sas City ticket agent is all right. He says
he sold tickets to those two boys, and [
believe him.’?

‘“T believe him, too, Norton, but the
chaps we’re looking for are not the only
two boys in the world.”’

‘Certainly not; but the ticket agent’s
description of the ragamuffins exactly fits
the two fellows we're looking for. He says
he sold them tickets to Sykeston, North
Dakota. I haven’t the slightest idea what
they can be doing away up here, but that’s
our cue, We must push on to Sykeston,’?

‘*How must we go to get there?’’ /

‘‘We have to change cars at Jamestown,
taking the Jamestown and Northern, a
branch of the Northern Pacific, to Carring-
ton. Every other day a train is run over to
Sykeston. If we strike Carrington on the
right day we can go over by train. Other-
wise we'll have to hire some one to take us
over.”’

“How far is it???

‘Only thirteen miles.’

‘I'd hate to take the trip by wagon.’?

‘oN ye!

‘*Winter sets in pretty early up in this
country. Id hate to get caught in a bliz-
zard out there, on the open prairie.”’

‘*Not much danger of it, Nick.’’

‘*Don’t be too sanguine of it, Dick Norton.
I’ve seen plenty of flurries up here in the
latter part of September.’’

‘Well, we won’t cross any bridges before
we get to them. I’d be perfectly willing to
weather a blizzard if we could catch up with
those ragamuffins and play even with them.”’

‘¢ After all, I don’t think those boys mur-
dered the banker.’’

‘‘Kyverything points to that fact.’’

‘‘Seemingly, 1 admit; but that was a
deed of older and wiser heads.’’

‘<They had accomplices, of course.’’

. Nick Gubbins suddenly drew from his
pocket an old letter.

‘Oh, by the way, Norton, here’s some-
thing I want you to see!’’ he exclaimed, in
rather a loud voice, leaning toward his com-
panion and holding the letter in his hands;
‘tread that.’’? Then, in a tone scarcely above
a whisper, he added: ‘‘Don’t exhibit the

into the Nicollett
the rotunda and

rslightest surprise, Norton, but the transom

of this room,is up, and I saw, a moment
ago, a boy’s face on the other side of it.
Talk on, as usual, and after a while, give a
casual glance in that direction yourself,
but don’t let on, for a moment, that you
see any one, if you do.’’ ina louder voice
he continued; ‘‘What do you think of it,
Norton?’’

‘*T shouldn’t wonder if what that fellow
says is right. I received a letter from the
same party, not long ago—and here it is,’’

Dick Norton took a letter from his breast
pocket, opened it and leaned toward his
companion.

‘“You are right,’’ said Norton, in an
excited whisper; ‘‘I saw the face you men-
tion—it’s at the transom now, and it’s one
of the boys were looking for. He’s eaves-
dropping.’’

‘Are you sure it’s the boy we want?’’

**T could take pay oath.”’

“Then I’ve got a scheme—watch me work

t

“‘Did you ‘hear some one knock* at the
door, Norton?’’ queried Gubbins, in a loud
tone.

‘*No,”’ returned Norton.

 

“T think I did. Excuse me while T step to

the door and see if there is any one there.’’

 

NEWS.

Gubbins opened the door and looked out
into the hall,

There was no one there.

When he came back he left the door
slightly open and brought the key with him.

‘-T’ll fix ’em,’’ he chuckled; ‘‘let’s go
into the other room, Norton.’’

‘*What are you going to do, Nick?’’

‘*Come in here and 1’ll tell you.’?

They went into the next room, closing
and locking the door after them.

‘*“Now,’’ went on Gubbins, ‘‘if I’m not
greatly mistaken that boy will drop into the
trap I have set for him. In order to hear all
of our conversation he’ll come through that
door, which I purposely left ajar, and
listen at this one here, which I have locked
on the inside. Just as soon as we’re sure
that he’s in the room we’ll slip around out
of this apartment into the hall and clap the
other door shut and lock it. Then we’ll have
hime

‘*That’s a slick scheme, Nick,’’ returned
Norton, with a laugh. ‘‘We’ll catch the
little villain, sure!?’

‘*Come on,’’? muttered Gubbins, getting
up hastily; ‘‘he’s in there now. I hear
Fits 27 ;

Gubbins and Norton rushed out into the
hall and hurried to the door of the next
room,

Ned and Nat were both inside.

‘“‘Caught!’? cried Norton, as Gubbins
swung the door, shut and locked it on the
outside.

wes looked at his friend a little sheep-
ishly.

‘*We ougbt to be in the lunatic asylum,
Nat!’

‘tT should say so!’’ returned Nat; ‘‘we
ought to be hit on the head with something
real hard.”’

‘*T didn’t think they were onto us.’’

‘*Nor I—but they were.’’

‘*Hello, there, you young ragamuffins!’?
came the voice of Norton, through the key-
hole. ‘*Here’s where I play even with you
both! My friend has just gone for the
police. We’ll have you in the lock-up inside
of an hour.’?’

‘‘Tt’s a long ways from here to the lock-
up,’’ returned Nat. ‘‘What are we going to
do, Ned???

‘“Can’t tell, my boy, until I look around,”’
replied Ned, walking to the window.

Ralaiiig the sash, he looked out.

They were in the third story.

‘*Little too far to drop, ain’ it??? said
Nat.

‘‘Not if you ain’t particular about your
health when you reach the ground, my
boy.”’

‘*What’s that rope in the corner?’?

A coil of stout rope was hanging from the
wall. Fastened above it was a placard
bearing this inscription:

TO BE USED IN CASE OF FIRE—IMPROVED
FIRE-ESCAPE,

Catch the hook in end of rope about win-
dow sash, fasten belt firmly around the
waist, and hold ball through which the rope
ruus in the hands, regulating rapidity of
descent by means of the spring in side.

‘“There you are, Nat,’’ said Ned, with a
chuckle, as he softly took down the ropes
and fastened the hook in the window sash;
‘‘oet into the belt, old fellow.’? -

‘You go first Ned!’

‘¢ You first, Nat! Get into the belt.’’

Without further words Nat buckled the belt
about his waist, took the round iron ball in
his hands and lowered himself out of the
window.

Nat made a safe descent, and hastily
unbuckled the belt.

Ned drew it up.

Just as he had finishd preparing himself
for his descent, and was standing onthe
window ledge, preparatory to swinging . off,
the door opened and in walked Norton,
Gubbins, and two policemen.

‘“<There he is!’’ cried Norton; ‘‘grab him !’?

‘¢Yes, grab him!’ cried Ned, sarcastically,
as he dropped out of the window.

As he went down Ned looked up and saw
Norton leaning out.

The mayor’s son had a knife in «his hand.

Before Ned could fairly realize what the
young demon intended doing the rope had
deen cut.

As luck would have it, Ned had nearly
reached the ground and fell only a few feet.
‘¢Are you hurt, Ned??? .

‘‘Not a particle, Nat—but 17ll play even
with that fellow for that—see if I don’t!
We’ll have to cut and run or we’ll be
nabbed, yet.’

The two friends rushed down the alley,

turned the corner and were nowhere to be
found when Norton, Gubbins, and the two
policemen came out of the hotel, looking
for them,

_ CHAPTER XII.
THE FALLS OF ST, ANTHONY.

AKE care, Guff!

“2 abead,’’
V4 \ Pour gentlemen, who, if appear-
“7 ances counted for anything, were
sports, were holding a little conference in the
waiting-room of the Northern Pacific depot.

dere’s trouble

‘up in that kind of shape?’’

 

One of them, howdy 3 checked trousers
and a large diamond, bad just, joined the
other three. Msg

4 /

‘‘What’s the matter, Kidney?’’ queried
the man addressed as Guff.

‘*I’m blest if I didn’t jest clap my peepers
onter a brace o’ chaps dat sent de cold
chills a canterin’? down my spinal column.
Dey’re out dere on de platform now,”’

‘*Who are they, Peters?’’ put in the second
man; ‘‘you are altogether too indefinite.’’ —

‘*Dy’re de two kids w’at did demonkeyin’
wid us in Topeka.’’

‘“The deuce you say !’’

‘This is a rum go!’’ said another, ad-
dressed as Phelps.

‘*What’s all this about?’’ put in a fourth.

‘Of course you don’t know anything
about the kids, Henly,’’ said Phelps; ‘‘ but
they’re a couple of chaps that came mighty
near cooking our goose in Topeka—they’re
kids, but they’re pretty smart. I think we
ought to settle with ’em,’’

‘‘Of course you had,’’ replied Henly, ‘‘if
they stand in your way.’’

‘*You’re just the fellow to help. us out,
too, Bluff Henly,’’ put in Phelps, ‘‘and I’ve
got ascheme for sending those two young
gentlemen over St. Anthony’s falls.’

‘*Wat’s de scheme?’?

‘‘ Let?s go around the corner and I’ll tell
you.

The four sports left the depot.

As a result of their plot in half an hour a.
very dignified gentleman, dressed in a suit
of clerical black, entered the depot.

He looked around the waiting-room with
a vacant, expectant eye.

Apparently he did ‘not see the person or

persons for whom he was looking, and he
went out upon the depot platform,

A few moments’ search was successful,

He caught sight of two young fellows,
some distance away, looking through the
iron fence at the constantly arriving and
departing trains.

He approached them.

‘‘T beg your pardon, young gentlemen,”’
he remarked, ‘‘but may I have a few words
with you?”’

Ned and Nat looked up in surprise,

Neither of the boys liked the man’s ap- ;

pearance. He seemed too much like a
hypocrite.

‘*What do you want?’’ asked Ned, coldly.

‘*You are from Topeka, Kansas, are you.
not?’?

‘*In a roundabout way. Why???

‘*Pardon me if I seem inquisitive,’’? went
on the man, who could not help noticing
that the boys had taken an aversion to him,
‘*but I am speaking to you for your own
good. Mr. Pillsbury, a friend of mine, who
lives on the island just across from the city
front, has just returned from Kansas, where
he was visiting his brother-in-law, Mr.
Jones. He witnessed your gallant act in
saving the little girl, and he knows that you
are entirely innocent of his brother-in-law’s
murder, but he wants to see you and talk

ie

with you about a man by the name of ©

Beaters, or Peters, or something of that
kind. He has been advertising to find you
in the papers all over the country.
you seen
come here to find Mr. Pillsbury?’

Ned snickered. '

‘‘What’s your game, anyway?’? asked
Ned, with a laugh.

‘*]’m sorry that you think 1 have any

fs

base “motives in the matter, my young

friend.’?’

‘*Wants to give me a hundred thousand, 1
suppose,’ /

‘*Not so much as that, but he certain]
intends to do what is right by you. Will
you accompany me??? :

“Til talk it over with my friend, Come
here a minute, Nat.’

Nat accompanied Ned a short distance

away from the clerical gentleman.
‘‘He’s putting up some dodge on us,’ said
Ned, ‘‘no doubt about that.’’
‘*That’s easy to bé seen.”’
‘*T’d like to find out what he’s after.’’
‘*Tt wouldn’t be a bad idea if we could.”’
‘(Have you got your pistol ready, Nat?”’
‘6'Veas,?? ‘i $
‘*Then suppose we go with him and keep
oy eyes peeled so we can’t run into another
rap!
OMe you sure he isn’t a detective??? __
‘‘Nid you ever see a detective get himself

‘* Never did.” cd

‘* He’s all right, so far as that goes, He
won’t steer us into a police station. He’
working some other game.’? ee

‘Allright. Let’s go with him and find
out what it is.”’ ! ai

**Come on.”’

They approached the clerical man, w
was standing expectantly waiting.

‘*T guess we'll go with you and see Mr.
Pillsbury,’’ said Ned. ©

An evil light flashed in the man’s eyes. —

‘*You’ll never regret it, my young friends.
Follow me.”’

The three then left the depot and made-
their way through the city down to the

river. ‘
‘*We could walk down a ways and cross
over to the island on the bridge,’? remarked
the. clerical man, ‘‘but I always cross in 4
boat—I like a little row, now and then.
wane healthful exercise. Don’t you think
so .
‘For them that like it, I guess it is;
I would rather swim than row, any da

a

Have 3
one of the advertisements and |

if

“Swimming is a splendid exercise, too

 

e stre:

| swif
Tl

T

' atte

float
ey 66)
GooDdD NEWS.

 

_ but here we are, at the river. This boat
_ here, belongs to a fisherman, but I have
hired it for the occasion. It’s rather old,
' but quite stanch,; for all that. You see in
_ the bow there some fishing lines and a coil
- of stout rope which he uses in his work.
_ We’ll just leave them in the boat. Get in,
= boys.’
_ Ned was not looking for anything start-
| ling. in crossing the river, but rather ex-
' pected that the trouble would begin when
_ they reached the island.
 *T11 do the rowing,’’ said the clerical
- man; ‘‘I like it so much, you know.”’’
' ‘*You do all the work and we’ll enjoy the
_ride,’’? returned Ned, with a grin and a
~ wink.
_ The man allowed the boat to float down
_ stream for quite a distance.
' The current was becoming swifter and
_ swifter.
_ They were now
stream.
The man at the oars was making no
_ attempt whatever to stem the tide, but was
- floating passively with it.

”?

in the middle of the

‘‘Mr. Pillsbury will get pretty tired wait-:

ing for usif you try to cross the river by
_ rowing down stream,’’ said Ned; ‘‘why don’t
you head the boat across?’’

_ The clerical man suddenly stood up in
the boat, lifted both oars and threw them

as far as he could.

- ‘*¥You can bet something handsome that

Pillsbury will wait a long time for you

oys,’? cried the man, with a sardonic

ugh; ‘‘good-by to you!”’

With that he sprang into the water.

_ Another boat, which Ned and Nat had not
before séen, rowed up at this moment and
took in the clerical gentleman.

“Tf yer git out er dat scrape yer’ll do
Mighty well!’’ camea voice from the second
boat.

_ *That’s the ‘Champion of Kansas!”’
xclaimed Ned.

‘¢The other three are the robbers!’’ added

at.

“‘Where are we going?”’

‘‘T haven’t the slightest idea.’’

‘tT understand the whole thing!

that roaring, Nat?’’

‘“Yes; what is it???’

‘*Tt’s the Falls of St. Anthony !”’

‘‘ And we’re going over the falls?’’

‘“That’s the way it looks. The current’s

aking us down at the rate of about a mile

minute now. Those fellows want to get
‘Us out of the way, and this is how they’re

loing it.’? i

‘We knew their scheme all the time and

ent into it with our eyes open.’’

Hear

‘*Tt’s my fault, Nat! {f it hadn’t been for

ne you wouldn’t have come.’’
i on’t talk like that, Ned. I won’t have

_ ‘*T wasn’t looking for trouble, here—I was
8 ‘pecting it when we got across,’’
‘*T guess it’s all up with us, Ned!’’
The roar of the falls was growing louder.
® two boys were hastening to their doom
Vith race-horse speed.

ee (TO BE CONTINUED. )

HE CONJURER AND THE GUN TRICK.

—

A very pleasant anecdote is told of Pro-
r Anderson by Mr. Arthur a Beckett in
‘‘Green Room Recollections.’? He says
professor, in his great gun trick, used to
Ive one of the audience a rifle, some powder
8nd a marked bullet. The marksman was
"hen requested to load and prepare to fire.
ereupon the professor walked to the end
the stage and invited the rifleman to
Hoot him. Then, after the marksman had
ted, he used to produce the marked bullet,
isisting that he had ae it on a plate.
one occasion a friend of mine, who was
admirable amateur conjurer, offered
Umself as an assistant. He took the gun
bd the ammunition and duly loaded.
it was the custom ef the professor to give
bullet a final tap with his wand to see
it was rammed down properly, and this
tap, Ihave been told, extracted the
let. This my friend knew, and when the
ofessor offered his assistance he politely
d. Anderson did not insist, but coolly
ed to the end of the stage and called

‘Now sir, take good aim at meand fire!”’
My friend hesitated, as he was well aware
at the gun he was holding was really
Fire, sir, fire!’ cried the professor.
“y friend lowered the weapon, and, say-
he could not let it off, returned it to
Aderson, who immediately, under pretence
Seeing whether it had been properly
l, extracted the bullet. Then he gave
gun to some one else, But before the
was fired he addressed the audience.
’ Ladies and gentlemen,’’ said he, ‘‘the
1 who has just resumed his seat knew
Tick and foiled it. If he had fired, this
ably would have been my last appear-
8 before you. But he hadn’t, sufficient
® to shoot me!??
hen it dawned upon the house that
on had risked his life rather than
himself beaten, the ‘applause was
ening. My friend told me that he felt
. amine’ regretted his penchant for
AL ae t

land my strength is entirely gone.

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

JUD AND JOE,
Printers and Publishers;

OR,

THE BURSTING OF THE BOOM.

oh gig sities

BY HARRY DANGERFIELD,
Author of ‘*The Boy Boomers,” ‘ Don Kirk’s
Mine,” “The Boy Cattle King,” ‘The
Boy from the West,” etc,

(“Jup AND JOE, PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS,”
was commenced in No. 329. Back numbers Can be
obtained of all News Agents.)

CHAPTER XXIIs

JUD SAVES THE MAJOR,

Ly HAT’S that?’ cried Jud, in aston-
WSACZ, ishment. ‘‘Wade Robinson in Red
~ Horse? Impossible!??

~ ‘*T guess not!’’ returned Joe.
‘‘T know he is here.’’

‘¢How do you know it?’?

‘‘Because I saw him with my own eyes.”’

That was enough to bring the boy editor
to his feet.

‘*Tf Robinson is. here, something crooked
is in the wind,’’ he declared. ‘‘He must be
arrested.’?

Joe nodded.

‘Jest what I thought, and I came in
a hurry, though it completely took my
wind,’?

‘¢Where did you see him?”?

‘*Goin’ into the Sweet Home saloon.’’

‘‘Well, I must say that he has nerve to
come here in such a manner. He must be
crazy or desperate.’’

‘Oh, he didn’t come openly.’’

‘“‘Didn’t? How is that? He came in broad
daylight, it seems.’’

‘«But he was in disguise.’’

Jud whistled.

‘‘Ts that so? How was he disguised???

‘‘He wore clothes and boots like a miner,
had on a red shirt, and his hat was slouched
over his eyes. The full beard that covered
his face was red.’’ ‘
***But Robinson’s beard was black.?’

‘‘Didn’t I tell you he was in disguise? He
has had his own beard taken off or colored
somehow.’? ; ;

Jud looked doubtful.

‘‘Tf Robinson was disguised
manner, how did you know him?”’

‘*By nis walk in the first place. I can
never forget his peculiar walk as long as I
live.’?

‘Was that all?”’ Be

‘‘No; I followed him to the door of the
Sweet Home, and I heard him order a drink
at the bar. I knew his voice.”’

‘“You may have made no mistake, Joe,’
said Jud, slowly; ‘‘but it seems quite as
likely that you have. I do not believe
Robinson would dare come back here now,
for he might be lynched. Still, he may
have done so. Let’s go down to the Sweet
Home and see if we can find your man of
the red shirt and red whiskers.’

‘‘] don’t feel able ‘to walk there now,
Jud,’’ said Joe. ‘‘I ran all the way here,
I shall

°

in this

have to rest.”’

‘¢ All right, ’? nodded the older lad, ‘‘I’ll go
alone.’’

‘*Be careful,’’ Joe cried, warningly. ‘‘He
may be here to look for you. If he is——”’

‘©! shall go armed,’’ said the young editor,
quietly. ‘‘Selkirk has instructed me in thé
gentle art of drawing and shooting quickly,
and Robinson will not catch me napping. I
know better than to fool with that man.’’

He went out and. walked deliberately
toward the saloon. On the way he met
Major Todd and told him what Joe believed
he had discovered.. The major smote one
clinched hand into the open palm of the
other, and declared: :

‘«By the cantankerous cats! if Robinson
has dared to poke his nose into the limits of
Red Horse Gulch, I’ll never interfere with
any little hemp-necktie festival the boys
may see fit to get up in honor of the
oceasion.’’

‘‘Joe says he went into the Sweet Home
saloon. Iam on my way there to see if I
can find him.’? ;

“Then I propose to amble right along
with you, my youthful knight of the quill.
Tam not going to stand back and let you
run up against trouble, without a backer,
even though I have shunned such places as
the Sweet Home since pledging myself to
reform. Reform is a great thing, my boy,
but it makes a man awful thirsty.’’

So the major went along, and they boldly
entered the salcon. The moment Todd saw
the bar, with its array of bottles on the
shelves behind, he began to swallow and
wipe his mouth with the back of his hand,
while a look\of mingled pleasure and pain
spread over his face.. His feet and his head
seemed to start toward the bar, while the

 

middle of his body held back, as if some on@
were clinging to his coat tails.

keeper, in a dazed way.

 

‘‘Suffering cats!’?’ came in a husky tone
from his throat. ‘‘Looker ther good old-
fashioned razzle juice! And I ain’t had one
leetle tennty-tonty snifter in so long that
I’ve lost count of the time! My system
seems to require ardent. My stomach yearns
for a stimulant.”’

Jud saw the major had reached a critical
point in bis career as a temperance man and
a reformed toper, and he was about to give
the tempted man some advice when, witha
wild whoop of mingled despair and delight,
the mayor of Red Horse leaped toward the
bar. Bringing his clinched fist down on the
bar with a great thump, the little man
shouted :

‘‘Johnny, give me a brimming snifter,
and give it to me quick! Make it the worst
old red-eye you’ve got—something that will
rake the skin off my throat clean to my
toes !’?

‘*Howdy, major!?’? laughed the _ bar-
keeper. ‘‘I reckoned you’d git back with
the boys after a time. Don’t find it much
sport belonging to the Good Templars, do
7e???

**Don’t talk!’’ fluttered the major, with |
his left elbow on the bar ‘and his hand
beckoning toward the bottles on the shelves, |
his face working with eagerness. ‘‘Set out
ther stuff, or you'll be guilty of murder! |
I?ll drop dead in a minute!”’

‘*Here you have it, major.’’

But the major did not get it, although he |
grasped eagerly at the glass.

 

Another hand |
was swifter, and the vile stuff was snatched |
away, while the reproachful voice of Joe}
said:

‘‘Major, major, what are you doing? Are |
you going to ruin everything in one .
moment of weakness???

A fierce look of disappointment and rage
sprang, into the face of the man who had
been deprived of the drink. His eyes
gleamed with a baleful light, and his lips
were drawn back from his teeth. At that
moment he was the creature drink had made
him, a slave to the vile stuff, ready to com-
mit a crime to appease his appetite.

‘*Give it here!’’ he snarled. ‘‘Give it
here, or [’]] kill ye! Quick!’’

Jud was startled but not frightened. For
the first time the boy realized what drink
had done for this man. Ever before this
the major had seemed a jolly, happy-go-
lucky individual, and when he had been
drinking the most he appeared the happiest.
Then it had seemed that drink gave him
pleasure, made him jolly, and did no great
harm beyond painting a flaming sign on his
nose. But now it was plain that liquor had
made him a wretched slave; it was plain
that liquor had placed its claim upon his
soul, and for the vile stuff he was ready to
do almost anything.

With a quick flip the boy spilled
drop of the liquor.

‘* Kill me, major, if, vou will,’’? he said,
calmly, ‘‘but I shall do my best to save
you from your bane.’’

The man swayed, his fingers working, his |
breast heaving, a desperate battle being
fought in his soul. The boy stood up and
faced him calmly, without lifting a band in |
his own defense.

A savage exclamation broke from the lips
of the barkeeper.

‘‘What do ye mean by that?’’ he snarled.
‘‘What right have you to come in here and
interfere with trade? If the major wants a
drink he shall have it, and you’ll pay for
that stuff ye spilled, or I’ll break your
head. Fork over!’’

‘¢1 will pay for it,’’ said the boy, quietly.

This did not satisfy the barkeeper. He
came over the bar with a leap, and caught
Jud by the throat.

‘*You young whelp!’’ he roared. ‘‘I have
a mind to cheke the breath out of your
body t3)

Now he would have found he was not
dealing with a child had Jud been friendless
in that place; but the boy had a friend, as
very quickly transpired.

The cold muzzle of a revolver touched the
barkeeper’s temple, and the voice of Major
Todd sounded in his ear:

‘‘Let up on that youngster, Johnny, or I
shall be under the painful necessity of
fitting you for a funeral. He is my friend,
and I don’t propose to have him damaged
in this kind of a place.”’ ’

‘¢But—but.’’ gurgled the astonished bar-
keeper, ‘‘think what he did! Why, he——’’

‘*Did me a great favor. I was about to
make a thundering fool of myself, and he
meee me. I owe him something for
that.

‘*Wa-al, I’ll be kicked!’’ gasped the bar-
‘‘T never saw the
beat of this. Oh, I won’t hurt him if he
pays for the bug juice.”’

‘*T will pay for that myself, as I ordered
it,’? said the major. ‘‘Get round the
counter, where you belong, Johnny, and
take care about jumping on my friends
after this, for I may take a notion to shoot
first and give you advice afterward.”’

The disgusted barkeeper returned to his
place, and the major paid for the spilled
whisky, after which he grasped Jud’s
hand, saying, warmly: _

“Tl not foregt this, young man. You
saved me from my worst enemy to-day, and
I doubt if I’ll ever be able to repay you for
the favor.’’

every

 

 

CHAPTER XXIil.
THE SHOT THROUGH THE WINDOW.

({27 ADE ROBINSON was not founa
Way\\/- in the saloon, but it was learned
that a stranger with a red beard

-o) and wearing a red shirt had been
there and drunk at the bar. Wither he had
gone was not known.

Together Jud and the major visited the
other saloons, and in every place the latter
resolutely kept his eyes from looking at the
liquors displayed. ;

They ended their search in the one re-
maining hotel—so called—of ‘the town, but
it resulted in nothing satisfactory. The
stranger had -been seen by several, but he
was not to be found.

“‘T’]]_ keep my peepers open for him,
Jud,’’ said the major. ‘‘If he is here, and
he is Robinson, 1711 know it before night.
Just you trust to me. The old man owes
you something.”’

**Don’t mention that, major; it was a
positive delight to be able to save you from
going back to the old life. 1 was well repaid

,in satisfaction.’’

‘‘Satisfaction won’t buy anything. Wait

| till I getaturn. I'l) put Selkirk onto this

matter, and we’]l be looking for Mr.
Robinson. So long, my lad.’’

Jud returned to the office, where he found
Joe in a state of great anxiety, as the lame
lad feared his partner would find Robinson
and have a collision with the man.

‘‘Did you see anything of him?’’
eagerly asked.

‘“‘Not a thing,’’ replied Jud.

‘“‘Why—why, didn’t you find the man with
the 7 shirt and whiskers?’?’ ;

tn 1?

Joe

Joe looked disappointed.

‘*But, he was at the Sweet Home, Jud—
that’s sure.’’

‘“Yes, that is sure,’? admitted the older
boy, ‘‘for there were others who saw him,
but where he has gone no one seems able to
tell. It strikes me that somebody else would
have recognized him if he is Wade
Robinson. ’’

‘*Well,’’? said the lame boy, slowly, ‘‘I
may have been mistaken, but I don’t think
I was. In my own mind I am satisfied.
More than that, I feel sure we’ll hear some-
thing from Robinson pretty soon. He is
here to make trouble for us, mark my
words.’’

Jud laughed.

‘“You are timid, Joe. You have not fully
recovered from your illness. You seem to
think everybody is plotting against us.’?

“That’s all right,’’ said Joe, stiffly—
‘*that’s all right, but jest you wait.”’

The day passed, and Jud saw Major Todd —

at dusk.

‘“That man with the red shirt and whis-
kers is a blooming mystery—a vanished
phantom—a thing that was and is not,”’
said the mayor of Red Horse. ‘‘Whither he

| hath flown I wot not. I have searched hither

and thither, and yonder, but 1 have not dis-

,covered hide, hair, nor hoofprint of the

critter.’’

‘*He must have left the town suddenly—as
suddenly as he entered.”’

‘But I can’t find anybody who saw him
go. Come to think of it, I can’t find any-
body who saw him come. He just seemed to
appear and vanish.”’

**T don’t like that,’’ admitted Jud.
looks as if he did not want to be seen.”’

‘“That’s what Selkirk said. By the way,
Dave has a bad attack of the blues. Some-
thing’s got to be done to cheer him up. I
don’t know what’s the matter with the
fellow. He’s the last person in the world
I’d expect to be down in the mouth.’

Later in the evening, while Jud was in
the office, Selkirk came round, Joe came in
with the city marshal.

The moment Jud saw Selkirk’s face he
realized that the major had spoken the
truth when he said the man had an attack
of the blues. Never but once before had the

boy seen Dave look like that, and that was -

when he felt sure that the boom was broken
and Red Horse Gulch was on the down
grade to ruin.

“It

“What is the matter?’’ asked the boy,

anxiously. ‘‘You are not well, Dave?”’
‘‘Never was better,’’ was the short reply.
‘*But—but you look ill.’ Ree ;
To this Dave said nothing. He sat down,
keeping his eyes on the floor. He was so
much unlike his usual self that Jud’s heart
was filled with alarm. What did it mean?
‘*Come, Mr. Selkirk,’* spoke up the young
editor, while Joe looked on anxiously, ‘‘tell
me nant the trcuble is. What is worrying
you ,
‘*Wa-al,’’ said Selkirk, ‘‘I suppose I may
as well spit her out. This yar town is gone
up—done for—busted.”’

Joe gave a cry of astonishment, His con- —
fidence in the future of Red Horse had been —

unabated, and Selkirk’s words were a great —

shock to him.
‘‘Why, what do you mean?’’ he asked, in
a flutter.
‘‘Just what Isay. Ther way ther Little
Peach turned out and ther burnin’ of the
eer has hit this place a knock-out
ow. *

“Why, there are other mines, and the — a

hotel will be rebuilt.’’

‘Ther other mines are worth just as _

or

 
 

12

much as ther Little Peach, and the hotel

will never be built.”’

‘‘How do you know this?’’ questioned
Jud. lt was no longer ago than yesterday
that I heard Selwyn Sydes was certain to
purchase the Bell Mule.”’

‘‘That was a bluff. Sydes is no fool, if he
is a tenderfoot, and he knows the Bell Mule
won’t pay for working. He will never sink
a dollar in her.’’

‘‘Other people may,’’ said Joe, swiftly.
‘¢And the Bell Mule is not the only mine
left in Red Horse Gulch.’’

‘‘Tt might as well be for all of the actual
value of the others. The placers built this
town, and the placers are worked out. The
town has been hanging on by its teeth for
some time, hoping somebody would open up
one of the mines on a large scale; but that
hope is dying out, and the people are begin-
ning to strike for other diggings. They’re
going slow now, but it is likely to turn toa
rush within a week, and Red Hawse may be
a deserted camp twenty days from now.’?

Both boys were appalled, for they had
never dreamed that they were so close upon
the verge of a catastrophe. Joe’s faith
in Red Horse had: been unshaken, and Jud
had never fancied the place could go down
in less than two or three months, even if
the boom should burst.

‘Oh, you don’t mean it, Selkirk—you
can’t mean it!’ cried Joe.

‘“‘Why, such a thing is an impossibility,’
exclaimed Jud. ‘‘No town like this can go
to pieces in such a brief space of time.’’

‘“Can’t they! That shows you do not
know much about Western boom towns. I
have seen a town as large and as promising
as this almost utterly deserted in forty-
eight hours. There was a rich strike a hun-
dred miles away, and the whole town
jumped for claims. That is not liable to
happen here, but the citizens of this place
are getting restless and losing confidence.
When the rush is started in earnest, you’ll
be astonished at the way in which they’ll
slide out of here.’’

The boys were silents They looked into
each other’s faces and saw dismay written
there.

Then of a sudden Joe cried:

‘¢T,ook—look! Who is that at the window?”’

They turned toward the window, and the
light showed them the face of a man who
was well known to Jud and Selkirk. That
face bore a look of murderous hatred.

‘‘Tt is Dan Davis?!’ exclaimed Selkirk.
**Look out !?’ :

As the words ‘‘look out’’?» came from his
lips, Davis threw up his hand and a pistol
shot rang out.

Jud Bruce dropped like a log to the floor!

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE ARREST.

CRY of horror, followed by an ex-
clamation of relief, came from the
lips of Little Joe, for Jud had

" leaped to his.feet almost as swiftly
as he fell, and he came up with a revolver
in his hand. ~

Jud had seen Davis lift his hand, and,
realizing his danger, he had dropped to the
floor, thus avoiding the bullet which was
intended for him.

When Jud came to his feet he was ready
to return the shot of the prowler, but the
face of the treacherous foreman of the
Little Peach had disappeared from the
window.

Selkirk had whipped out a revolver, but
he was not quick enough to get a shot at
Davis.

‘‘Out!"’ cried the city marshal—‘‘out and
after him!’’

He sprang*for the door and went leaping
from the office, with Jud at his heels.
Round the building they dashed, but they
found no trace of the man who had tried to
shoot Jud.

‘‘Wal-al,’? drawled Selkirk, falling into
the Western vernacular, ‘‘ther  p’izen
varmint skipped mighty lively, and that I
will allow.’’

“Did you get a fair look at Ifis face?’’
panted Jud. ‘‘Did you see him just before
he fired?’?

‘IT saw his face by the flash of the gun
in his hand.”’ :

‘* And it was the face of Davis?’’

‘*Sure as fate.’’

“Then if Davis is in town, it is not un-
likely that Robinson was here—that he is
still near at hand. Those two rascals would
be likely to cling together.’’

““Yoe’re right about that, and I reckon
Little Joe may not have been so far off
when he allowed he had seen Robinson.
We’ll make a hot hunt for these people in
the morning.’’

They went back into the office, at the
window of which a curtain was soon placed,
for Jud did not care to give Davis another
chance to shoot at him from the outside.

When the boys had cooled down, some-
what, they again fell to talking of the future
prospect of Red Horse, and Selkirk showed
them that the town was ina bad way. At
last they were convinced that the tide had
turned and the place was likely to be de-
serted within a short time, unless something

GOOD

asked Jud. ‘‘Are you going to leave when
you see the boom is bu’sted beyond the
shadow of a doubt?’’

‘*No, I am going to stay here to the end.
I have fought and bled, and nearly died for
the welfare of this town, and 1 am not
going to desert it till it is dvad beyond
recall.’?

‘‘That’s the talk!’’ cried the young
editor, with enthusiasm. ‘‘And the Boomer
is with you! We will be loyal to Red
Horse!’?

‘*The Hustler is likely to suspend this
week. It is barely possible it may appear
once more, but it is on its last legs.’’

‘‘Well, we will live to bury our rival, and
there’ll be some satisfaction in that.’

Long after Selkirk had departed the boy
partners sat and talked. They laid plans for
the future when Red Horse should be a
dead town.

‘If this is the way they peter out, 1’m
ruther sick of boom towns,’’ said Little
Joe. ‘‘If it wasn’t for that I’d be in for
goin’ to some other place where things was
red hot and startin’ in over again.’’

‘*T hate tO be a liar!’’ exclaimed Jud.
‘*T have worked for this place. I have de-
clared over and over in the paper that it
was certain to become one of the leading
cities of the Southwest, and the paper has
had much to do with building the place up.”’

‘*Well, you believed what you said when
it was printed.’’

‘‘Of course I did, but I was fooled.’’

‘*No worse than Selkirk, and he is rather
shrewd. He was confident at one time that
Red Horse was all right.”’

‘*That’s true; and Major Todd still believes
there is a bright future ahead for this
place. JI am afraid he will take to drink
once more when he sees the boom collapse. ’’
‘*Well, whatever we do, Jud, let’s stick
together.’’

‘‘All ‘right, Joe, we will hang by each
other.’’

‘‘Do you mean to give up journalism
when the Boomer goes under???

‘‘No; I shall try to get a position on some
paper in one of the cities where there is no
boom to collapse.’’

‘‘And [ll go for a job stickin’ type on
the same paper.”’

Thus it was settled, but the hearts of the
boys were heavy with the bitterness of dis-
appointed ambition. The future had seemed
very bright for them, and now, all of a
sudden, the brightness had turned to sombre
shadows.

Jud pretended that he was going to re-
main in the office and write, and Little Joe
went to bed. Joe found he could not sleep,
and he tosséd and twisted and groaned for
hours. He was thinking of the black cloud
of disaster that hung over Red Horse Gulch.
As for Jud, he could not write, and he
did not feel like remaining within the
stifling limits of his little ‘‘den,’’ so he went
forth into the open air, having first made
sure that his revolver was ready for use.
At first the boy walked along mechani-
cally, but it finally seemed that some mag-
netic power was drawing him in a certain
direction. Straight toward the Little Peach
mine he walked.

As he drew near the mouth of the mine
he slackened his pace somewhat.

‘*Oh, if you had been all right!’’ he mut-
tered, bitterly. ‘‘If you had not been
salted this town would not be on its hind
legs now.’’

Of a sudden a figure darted out from the
dark mouth of the mine, made a swinging
motion with one hand and something
whizzed past Jud’s head.

‘‘Hello!’? exclaimed the boy, ducking
down and drawing his revolver. ‘‘What is
the meaning of that?’’

Then, revolver in hand, he sprang in
pursuit of the unknown.

It was a hot chase, and the boy was over-
taking the other, when Jud tripped and fell
heavily, the revolver flying out of his hand.
He was somewhat stunned by the fall, and
the fugitive had vanished when he picked
himself up.

‘Go it!’’ muttered Jud. ‘‘I’ll have to let
you slide. Where is my gun???

“ For at least thirty minutes he searched
for the revolver, but he found no trace of
it, and he finally gave over the hunt.

‘*T’]l come out and find it in the morn-
ing,’’ he thought.

Wondering not a little over this incident,
the boy walked back into the town, and
finally went to bed. He slept but little
better than his partner, for he was troubled
by the most unpleasant dreams of bloodshed
and murder, and he started up a dozen
times, wide awake, cold perspiration stand-
ing out all over his body. Near daybreak he
slept soundly, and it was two hours after
his regular hour for rising that Little Joe
shook him into consciousness, and told him:
‘‘Selkirk is waiting to see you.’
**Selkirk?’’ said Jud, stupidly.
does he want?’? :
‘TY don’t know, but there’s more than
fifty men with him. Something has gone
wrong.’?

Jud leaped out of bed and into his
clothes,
into the composing-room, where Selkirk
and a number of the crowd were waiting.
The face of the city marshal looked very

‘* What

ago, asking all manner of questions about

sharp. By the way, I saw a strange-looking

ing.
thing else. We'll paddle round that way to-
night, and if it’s anything worth while,
we'll take it into the middle of the lake
and scuttle it.’’

for ’twill be dark long before we can get
back now.

lies partly in the lake.”’

under which the foregoing colloquy was held
began to rustle, and soon the lithe form of
a boy
stood on the spot where the two men had
sat. :

fifteen summers; ‘‘it’s lucky I happened to
hear what they said, or I’d have lost my
boat.
they look well enough. And what was all
that they said about bills and coins and en- | ¢
gravers and plates, I wonder?
I’m on the track, sure enough! I’ll bet they
are counterfeiters, and they have got a den
close by the lake somewhere,
that stranger meant, that I heard tell father
*twould be five hundred dollars in any-
body’s pocket to put him on the track. Oh,
if I could only find him, how quick I’d
have that money.”’

retired merchant, who, a few weeks before,
had come to Bloomdale to enjoy the ex-
quisite beauty of its mountain scenery, and
inhale the life-giving air floating along the
perfume-laden hillsides. For Cleon Harmon
was an invalid through long and persistent
attention to business, and needed all the
best aids of nature to build up his shattered
system.

from the city. Quickly had he found out the
charms of Diamond Lake, and already a
Within three minutes he walked | light canoe danced on its sparkling waters,
wooing him daily to the delights of the oar
and sail.

  
 

NEWS.

‘*Good-morning, Mr. Selkirk,’’ he said.
‘*What do you want of me?’’

ee hand fell on the lad’s arm, and he
said:

‘*It is my painful duty to arrest you.”’

‘Arrest me?’’ gasped Jud, recoiling a
bit. ‘‘For what??? ;

‘*For murder.’?’

The boy nearly fell to the floor.

**You do not mean it!’’ he cried.
is a joke.’’

‘*No,’? replied Selkirk, sadly, ‘‘it is no
joke, Jud. You are actually arrested for
the murder of Selwyn Sydes.”’

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
————__~ o--e——____—_—

LUCIEN, THE YOUNG DETECTIVE.

——e

BY VICTOR ST. CLAIR.

.

‘¢This

 

 

 

TT is a midsummer’s day. Far up the
Hf Hudson lies the little village of Bloom-

dale, in a beautiful valley between the
Sm towering mountain ranges.

A mile or so from the village may be seen
the little sheet known as Diamond Lake.

On the shore of this lake, and beneath the
shade of a majestic pine, two men are en-
gaged in an earnest conversation in a low
tone of voice.

One of them is a portly, well-dressed per-
son, somewhat beyond middle age, and
known as Victor St. Cyprian.

His companion, a tall, thin individual,
with black hair and snaky eyes, boasts the
name of Vincent Don Carlos.

‘*And you say you had no difficulty in
disposing of the whole amount,’’ remarks
the former of the twain, an expression of
satisfaction settling over his rubicund face.

‘*None whatever,’’ replies Don Carlos. ‘‘I
could have pushed any quantity of the stuff
into circulation. It is absolutely impossible
to detect the spurious coin, and as for the
bills, why, even the bankers of New York
can’t tell a shade of difference between
them and those fresh from the mint. I say,
St. Cyprian, that Blake is a treasure. I
never saw his equal for executing an en-
graving.’’

‘‘Nor I, either, Don Carlos. But he’s a
queer man. Mark my word, that man has
a history. Sometimes I have thought he
might be an enemy in disguise. You know
these detectives are up to every kind of
dodge.’’

‘Oh, no; I’ll answer for Blake. Besides,
he couldn’t do any harm, for he’s never
alone. You, or I, or Mark, one of us, has
had an eye on him continually.. Speaking
of detectives reminds me that one has at
last appeared up here. I learned at the
village that a stranger was there two days
the country, and some fool told him of this
lake, and how no one could ever keepa
boat on it. Iset it down at once that he
must be a detective.’

‘What of it? He couldn’t find us,”’

‘‘f hope not; but those gentry are pretty

boat moored on the north shore this morn-
It looked more like a toy than any-

‘*Well, let’s be off and disguise ourselves,

Is our boat secure???
‘*Ves; I ran her into the hollow tree that

‘‘Come on, then.’?

Ten minutes later the branches of the tree
glided down the rough trunk, and
‘‘*Whew!’’ exclaimed the youth of some
Those are bad men, I know, though

Hold on!

That's what

Lucien Harmon was the son of a wealthy

Lucien was delighted with the change

On this particular morning he had wan-| ‘

and presently was headed for the lower end
of the lake.
thing impelled him to ‘cross to the other

side of the sheet, which, for a part of the ©

height of many feet from the depths of the §

platform of stone, at one end of which was ©
a wide opening into the cliff,

| He listened intently. No sound came from
the interior of the cliff. All was silent a3 —
the tomb. He crept cautiously along the ~
ledge, and peered into the opening. <A few
feet further on it turned at a sharp angle,
thus cutting off the view of the interior.

steps more and a revelation met his gaze.
In a large room, some feet below him, bé@
saw a man bending over a desk, and, by thé
aid of a dim light, tracing carefully some
design upon a plate of metal, with a sharp;
steel tool.
new, crisp bank note, which, from time t0
time, he critically examined by the assist-
ance of a magnifying glass, and compare

with the lines he had cut upon the plate.

person busily plying a press, evidently ©
taking off on paper the impression of 4
plate resembling in form and size the on?

preying on the community, Nothing T@
mained but to quietly creep, back down the -
ladder and return to Bloomdale with his —
information. No doubt he could easily find

the stranger that for two or three days ha® —4y
been hanging about the village and who he- ae
now felt was really a detective on the tra’ 7)
of St. Cyprian and his band. is

engraver, dropping: his plate; ‘‘should a2) —
one have seen it, we are betrayed.’’

close by in a boat, and you know there is?
a boat on the lake except ours.’’

but it should not occur again,
take it up before you forget it.’?’

ery. There was no time now to get a a
the ladder, for the counterfeiter was alrea y
on his way to the opening. But one
r

steps led down into the room before ae
and in the semi-darkness might it not 7.
possible to glide down these and sect
himself before detection came?

was taken, and darting down the stairs
crept beneath them out of sight, just
season to avoid being seen.

his way to the outside, and whose name
Mark Wilson, was heard on the shelf ¥V}
ously airing his profanity.

who remained behind.

 

 

 

unforeseen happened. )
‘‘What are you going to do, Selkirk?’’

grave and troubled, as the boy saw at a
glance.

dered away in the green woods to the oppo-
Site shore of the lake, where, climbing a

true as your name’s Jim Blake!’’

   

 

lofty pine to enjoy a better view of the 7

sylvan charms, he had chanced to overhear

the words spoken by the two villains below

when they came along.

And they were villains indeed.
longed to a band of counterfeiters hidden in
that vicinity, that had for a long time car-

ried on their nefarious avocation unknown

to the villagers.

As Lucien Harmon turned to retrace the ©

path by which he had come, a thought

ig

struck him that at once checked his move- 99)

ments.

‘Suppose I should try and find their boat! |
They mean to destroy mine, and if I borrow
theirs to cross the lake in they can’t find yy

much fault. The old tree will be a good

help to me, for ’twould be hard work to 7%
find that,’’ he softly said to himself, and 7

suiting his actions to his words, he began to
walk along by the edge of the water.

A short time sufficed to take him to the | .
identical tree with the boat concealed in its “9p
Parting the branches, that

hollow trunk.
were ingeniously arranged to look likea mass ~

of bushwood caught upon the old log, he

looked eagerly within.

Yes, the boat was there. Laying hold ‘%

upon it with both hands, he tried to drag it ~
out into the water. A stronger person than ~

he had pushed it to a place where his
strength was of no avail.
‘‘Well, no matter,’’? said he, giving over 9

aE
=.

«|
Cam
AE

the attempt, ‘‘I can go the way I came.”’
So saying, he returned to his own craft,

When half way down some-

way, was skirted by a precipice rising to @

blue water at its base.

Midway of this rocky wall he came upod —%
a recess, in which, to his astonishment, he ~
saw a rope ladder swaying in the light 7
breeze, and reaching from the water to @ "4
shelf two-thirds the way to the top of the ~
ledge. ‘

Lucien was a brave boy.

Once there he found himself upon a broad

Noiselessly he stole on by the turn. A few

Before him on the bench lay 4

In another part of the room was a second

on which his companion was engaged. — 4
Lucien stood spellbound. Here before hit! «=
was the workshop of a band of villail® —

   

As the thought flitted through his mind

 

They be- 4s

 

   
   

ee
He was deter-
mined to know if this were the way to
counterfeiters’ haunts, and tying his canoe
to the bottom end of the ladder, he clam-
bered up the dizzy height.

the J

   

rie
hoi

one

ton

it???
66)
sand
We’
It? ll
co

your
A

pini
then
tors
A
one
_ these
it o
- sobb
2
whil
he,

~ ham:

When

       
 

 

 

the man at the press suddenly ceased fro)
work, and turning to his companion, © /

   
 

 

 

claimed, with an oath, that he had forgot § an
to pull up the ladder after the departure ®
their comrades that morning.

 
   
  

 

 

“Why! how very careless,’? replied th@

 

 

 

 

“Right, Blake,’? answered the othe

    
  

 

 

‘But noone could do that unless pass ="
‘‘Well, I trust there’s no damage done,
Go out an™

_ ale
Lucien felt that he was doomed to discoY

  
   
    
  
   
     
  

 

 

chanc®

emained to him. A short flight of rude

ete
Quicker than a flash his determinatio? —
ip
A minute later the villain, who wa ab
gory
‘‘What% the trouble, Mark??? asked hg

‘*Come out and help me,’’ was the reply,
‘Here’s a baby boat tied to the ladder ©

With a smile at the words the other hut

 

    
  

    
  
   
    
  
      
     
   
  
     
   
 

     
  

    
f FF %0me less fiendish way——

 

ried to his companion, and together the two
hoisted the canoe to the platform.

‘‘Sure’s death,’’? cried Wilson.
one’s discovered us!’?

‘*Where can he be???’ queried Blake, in a
tone of affright.

‘‘In the cave,
Mark.

‘*His doom is sealed, then,’’ hissed Blake,
and they quickly instituted a critical search.

In a very short time Lucien was found
and dragged trembling with fear from his
retreat. é

‘‘What shall we do with him, Mark?’’
said Blake, after they became satisfied that
he was alone.

‘*Kill him; it’s all we can do.’’

‘<< How???

‘¢1?q shoot him, if I dared to fire a gun
here. ‘The report might betray us, you
know, if anybody else is hanging about
outside.’’

‘‘Just so; ’twould never
better idea than that.’’

‘¢Out with it, man.’?

‘‘Tet’s bind him, and head him up in one
of these old caskets; then put in something
heavy enough to sink it, and pitch it over
the ledge.’’ ‘

‘*Good! capital! But what can we put in
a?!

‘‘Don’t you remember that great pile of
sand and gravel over there in the corner?
We’ll fill in all we can get up the stairs.
It’ll carry him to the bottom jolly quick.”’

‘‘You’re a loud one, Blake. Bring on
your ropes and we’ll have him fast.”’

A minute or two later Lucien lay firmly
pinioned on the floor. Piteously he besought
them to spare his life. In vain; for his cap-
tors proved themselves merciless men.

A row of empty casks were ranged.along

one side of the cavern. Selecting one of

**Some

of course,’’ responded

do. I’ve gota

these, Blake rolled it forward, and standing
it on end, lifted the bound, helpless, and
sobbing boy and dropped him in,

‘<And now, Mark, yousgo out and watch
while I put in the head and the sand,’ said
~¥ he, picking up some pieces of wood, anda
>) hammer.

' Mark proceeded to the platform of stone
¥ and carefully scanned surrounding objects,
' listening for any uvusual sound. Nothing
Suspicious met his gaze, however, and all
he heard was the clatter of his comrade’s
- hammer as he fixed the head into the cask.
* Some five minutes he spent in listening
' and watching, then returned to his com-
' panion, reporting everything well.

' Blake had succeeded in heading up the
Cask, and having bored several holes in its
| Sides, was intent upon pouring into the
' interior, through an improvised tunnel, a

' Quantity of sand to insure its ready descent

' to the bottom of the lake.

_. ‘Help me fill in the sand and we’ll start

) him along,’ said he.

Mark complied, and when they judged

' the cask had become sufficiently heavy to
handle, they prepared to roll it up the steps

' 4nd out into the passage.

. ‘*How quiet he is,’? remarked Wilson,

' When the burden was clear of the rickety

» Stairway. ‘‘Suppose he’s dead already?’’

' _‘‘Dead! boys don’t die so easy, Mark.

_Yon’t you hear that?’’ and an audible sob

fame from the imprisoned victim.

_, ‘I hear him,’’ chuckled Wilson, gleefully.

' ‘Say, young man, if you know any prayers

' Xow’s the time to be thinking them over,

| *0r we’re most ready to'launch you.’’

**Oh, mercy ! mercy ! don’t kiJl me! don’t!’

ee

ag . fame in piteous aceents from the cask.

Unheeding the cries, Blake laid hold upon
) '4e terrible prison and rolled it out upon
| 48 platform.
Sobs and cries for mercy from the doomed
| boy fell thick upon their ears as the cask
Owly turned on its fatal path. ;
ark Wilson, villain as he was, felt his
Pe heart failing him at this supreme moment.
| ‘Hold on, Blake,’’ he cried, ‘‘let’s try

”

, Even as he spoke, the cask with its human
freight went over the precipice.
,. vith a shudder, Mark turned away, while
ye {rom the depths came up one long, terrible,
| Sart-rending wail of agony, seeming to
 Plerce his very being. ;
'.,With a loud splash the falling burden
‘truck the lake. The waters parted and
“losed. A few swimming bubbles appeared
the surface, and the cask with its con-
oy had disappeared forever from human
Ww.
Next they shoved the canoe off after it,
end then the two wretches returned to their
mer occupation within.
tell you, Blake,’’ exclaimed Mark,
tor half an hour’s unbroken. silence,
2°wre the most cold-blooded chap I ever
'4.°t. You’re a cooler fellow than any of us
% pught,?? .
| «,l’m glad of it.”
¢,. YO you know that we all mistrusted you
she & while at first? But you’re true blue. I
jy Ud like to hear the story of your life, for
myo must be. able to tell one if you
?
ul,
»,, Well, Mark, you wil] one of these days;
bo, been thinking of telling you more
Wo qegnveelt this good while. But we must
Be How; we’re all behindhand.”’
he th men now lapsed into silence and so
m.emaining hours of day went slowly by.
y Wo hours after night had set in, St.
“Prian and Don Carlos arrived, and to

 

them was told the singular story of their
visitor and the tragic ending of his visit.
They expressed their satisfaction at the
manner of his disposal, and after a short
conversation all four retired to rest.

Could any sleep come to the red-handed
murderer of Lucien Harmon? It seemed not,
for he tossed wearily on his hard couch a
while, and, finally, going out upon the
ledge, sat down upon the boat which the
outlaws had drawn up after them and
looked pensively upon the dark waters
below.

About half an hour after sunset of the
day on which happened the events already
narrated, a gentleman sitting in his room at
the little inn of Bloomdale, buried in a pro-
found reverie, was suddenly aroused by a
sharp rap on his door. At his invitation to
enter a domestic appeared, and handed him
a soiled and dampened scrap of paper.

Taking the slip, he smoothed it out, and
was able to distinguish these words, written
in pencil:

‘*‘DEAR BiLL—The enemy is caged at last!
Take a dozen good men and follow the
bearer of this to Diamond Lake. Wait on
the north shore till you see a white light
opposite. Two hours after this everything
will be ready. Then come on. JACK.’?

Bounding to bis feet with an exclamation
of surprise, he demanded to know where the
note came from. On being told that the
bearer was a boy, he bade him to be sum-
moned.

While the servant was on her mission,
William Daunton—for that was the gentle-
man’s name—fairly danced across the floor
with delight.

‘Old Jack has made a sure thing of it
this time,’’ he muttered; ‘‘but how on earth
came he to know that I was here? It’s pass-
ing strange how that man finds out things!
He’s the sharpest detective I ever came
across. What seems to most people impos-
sible is mere play for him.’’

Here the boy who had brought the letter
entered.

Motioning him to a seat, the excited man
began plying him with questions as to the
way the writing came in his possession.

The boy told his story, and a lengthy
interview resulted, at the end of which his
services as guide to the lake were secured,
and he dismissed, with an injunction to be
in readiness by ten o’clock.

Don Carlos had been right in his con-
jecture that the stranger at Bloomdale was
a detective. William Daunton, for he it was,
had come up to the little village for the
express purpose to spy out St. Cyprian’s
headquarters, having after many months
traced him to that spot.

To get together the requisite number of
men to descend upon the den was an easy
task, and at the hour appointed twelve
sturdy fellows, with the detective as leader,
and the boy as guide, struck silently through
the forest to the lake.

Ere long they arrived at the shore, and
proceeded along to the place designated for
their halt. oie

Hore they patiently waited, watching the
dimly outlined cliff across the water for the
appearance of the promised light. Presently
a tiny flame glowed faintly through the
gloom, a moment later a dazzling white
ball of fire shot heavenward, and describing
a beautiful curve, fell hissing into the lake.

‘All right,’’ whispered the boy guide.
‘‘T wo hours hence is the time to start.’

‘*How are we to cross?’’ asked one of the
number. ‘‘Has anybody thought of that?’’

‘Rest easy about the crossing,’’ replied
the detective: ‘‘there’ll be a way when the
time comes,’’ and touching his gold repeater
he found that it was now half an hour be-
fore midnight.

The interval before the appointed time of
departure had not fully elapsed when the
sound of oars broke the stillness, and soon a
dark object came into view on the water,
which proved to be a boat rowed bya
solitary person.

The detective hastened to the shore, and
in a low voice asked:

‘‘Ts that you, Jaek?”’

‘“Yes; all right; don’t stop to talk, for
time is precious. Men all here?’?

t6Vos,??

‘*Pile into the boat as many as can.
come again for the others.’’

Quickly one-half of the company took
their places, and urged now by two pairs
of oars, the boat shot into the gloom.

On reaching the cliff, one by one the men
made their way up the ladder and remained
in silence on the shelf, while the others were
brought across. At last the entire company
were ready for the assault. Guided by him
who had been their pilot upon the lake
they entered the cavern.

Detective Daunton, opening the slide of a
dark lantern he carried, flashed the light
around the room. Stretched upon their
mattresses on the rocky floor were three of
the villains fast asleep. f

St. Cyprian, Don Carlos, and Wilson were
there, but where'was the fourth?

A sudden noise, caused by some one stum-
bling over a stool, aroused them from their
slumbers, Leaping to their feet, they tried
to defend themselves. A short but decisive
conflict followed, and the three criminals

Pl

‘were overpowered and bound.’

St. Cyprian gnashed his teeth in rage.

 

GOOD NEWS.

13

 

‘‘Some one has proved a traitor!’’ he
hissed. ‘‘Where’s Blake? There are only
three of us here.’’

‘*Here he is,’’ calmly observed that indi-
vidual, stepping forward. ‘‘ But he’s changed
his name now; call him Jack Turner, if
you please.”’

‘*Jack Turner—the—the——’’ stammered
the astonished wretch.

‘*Yes, the detective.
race is run!?’

A groan and curse formed the outlaw’s
only reply.

‘*One thing sure,’’ called out Mark Wil-
son. ‘‘You’ll have to swing for murdering
that boy.’’

‘*Perhaps not.’’

‘*Then there’s no justice in the land. You
know you’re guilty.’’

‘*Oh, no; you’re mistaken.’’

‘*You are; I’ll swear to it. That boy’s
death cry rings in my ears now.’?

‘‘T7]l remove that burden from
Lucien, come here.’’

Quickly the boy who had guided them to
the lake stepped forward, and there before
him stood Lucien Harmon, alive and un-
harmed.

‘*J_-T don’t understand it,’’? he muttered.
‘‘T would have sworn that boy was at the
bottom of the lake.’’

And he never did understand it, for no
explanation was vouched him then, and in
due course of time he, with his comrades,
was lodged in the penitentiary for a term of
years ending only with his life. A vast
amount of counterfeit coin and bills was
found in the cave, in all stages of comple-
tion, and these, with all the apparatus for
their manufacture, were destroyed.

Later as William Daunton and Jack Turnex
were alone, the former requested to know
how he knew he was in the vicinity so as to
send him word.

‘*Well, Bill,’? was the reply, ‘‘I found it
out by that boy, though already mistrusting
it from hearing St. Cyprian and Don Carlos
talking about a suspicious-looking stranger
down at the village.’’

‘“‘That was a good idea of yours to get
into their employ as an engraver.”’

‘*Yes; and this isn’t the first time I’ve
done it. But we owe our success to the boy.
He is a plucky little fellow, and if it had
not been for him I fear I should not have
been able to get you word to come with
help.’’

‘*You are right; and he shall share the
reward with us.’’

‘*Certainly. But let’s seek rest now, and
to-morrow we’ll start for the city.”’

And so our detective friends passed on to
other adventures with law-breakers in due
time. Here we leave them, and with a few
words of explanation our tale ends.

The reader will naturally be curious to
learn how Lucien Harmon escuped, when it
seemed so certain that he had gone down to
a watery grave. The reason he was not
drowned is the simplest of reasons—he was
not in the cask.

From the moment of his discovery Blake,
or Turner, as we now know him, determined
to save him, and while so active in planning
for his death, was only so in appearance.

It will be remembered that he sent Mark
out to watch while he placed the head in
the cask, The moment he was out of sight
‘he cut the boy’s bonds and secreted him
under the stairs again, first telling him, in
a few whispered words. what he wanted
him todo. Mark never dreamed but that

St. Cyprian, your

you.

the prisoner was in the cask, for he thought |

he heard his cries as he saw it rolled into
the lake. He did really hear such cries, but
they came only from Turner’s throat, and
not from the boy’s, for Jack was a splendid
ventriloquist.

‘*And never,’’ said he, in after years,
‘did I do better work than I did when I
made the big barrel talk.’’

During the afternoon Jack found an op-
portunity to scribble the note to his friend,
and got it into Lucien’s hands. When it
grew duskish Lucien slipped out unseen,
and scrambling down the ladder, swam past
the cliff and gained the shore in safety,
when he made all haste to the village with
his information,

In the meantime the remainder of the
gang arrived, and Jack having succeeded in
drugging the liquor of which they custom-
arily partook on retiring, bad the satisfac-
tion of seeing them soon sound asleep.
Then he went out,on the ledge and gave
the signal agreed upon by sending up a
white light.

After this he let the boat, which St.
Cyprian and his comrade had drawn up
after them, back into the lake, and with it
conveyed his friends across. ‘

Lucien was rightly proud of his adventure,
and, it is needless to say, was generously
rewarded for his bravery.

— +s +—>_———-

A watchmaker recently accomplished a
remarkable mechanical feat—that of drilling
a hole through the entire length of a com-
mon pin, from head to point, the opening
being just large enough to admit of the
passage of a fine hair.

The same mechanic cut a sewing needle
in two lengthwise, and then drilled holes
and fastened it together so closely and nicely
that the split could not be seen with the
naked eye.

 

Qur §ramp ‘ALbow,

{SpEecIAL NoTicE —To insure the safe return of
stamps sent to us for examination, correspondents
should inclose them in separate stamped envelope,
bearing name and address. The prices quoted are
from current lists, and are subject to change. ]

In 1890 a new series of stamps were issued
of smaller size then any heretofore issued,
19x22 mm. The design of all values are
similar, but with different portraits in oval;
profile portrait to left in oval, ‘‘ United States
Postage’’ in half-circle above, numerals in
each lower corner, and value in words in
curved line at bottom. In 1898, on the
reduction of the registry fee to 8 cents, a
stamp of that value, similar in design to
balance of set, was issued. The designs and
colors are as follows: 1 cent, blue, Frank-
lin; 2 cents, carmine, Washington; 3 cents,
purple, Jackson; 4 cents, dark brown, Lin-
coln; 5 cents, chocolate, Grant; 6 cents,
red-brown, Garfield; 8 cents, lilac, Sherman;
10 cents, green, Webster; 15 cents, dark
blue, Clay; 30 cents, black, Hamilton; 90
cents, orange, Perry. There are several
shades of the 2 cents, the very dark red of
the early issue being the rarest. None of
these stamps are scarce, all values being yet
on sale at many post-oflfices throughout the
country.

° * * * *

In 1893 a special series of stamps was
issued to celebrate the 400th anniversary of
the discovery of America. While 90 cents
had been the highest value of regular post-
age stamp issued heretofore, in the Colum-
bian series $1, $2, $3, $4, and $5 values were
issued. They were larger than the previous
issues, and oblong, the same size and shape
as the special delivery stamps, and each
bore as central design a scene from the life
of Columbus, except the $4, which bore por-
traits of Columbus and Isabella, and the $5,
in which the profile of Columbus occupied
the centre. The framework and inscription
of all values are similar; picture in arched
rectangle, numerals of value at right and
left, directly above picture, with value in
words in half-circle between; ‘‘United
States of America’’ in curved line at top;
‘©1492’? in left, ‘‘1892’’ in right upper cor-
ner; descriptive label below.

They were printed by the American Bank
Note Co., in sheets of 200, cut in half before
delivery. The values, colors, etc., are as
follows: 1 cent, blue; in central circle
Columbus and followers on deck of ship,
after the painting by William H. Powell;
outside of circle seated figures of Indians,
woman and child at left, warrior at right,
with inscription below, ‘‘Columbus in
sight of Land.’’ This stamp is occasionally
found with the ‘‘B’’ of \‘*Columbus’’
blurred, giving it the appearance of an
‘*R,’’ and it has been catalogued as an error
variety, but it is simply a poor printing.
This stamp was printed from thirty different
plates, and the total number of stamps
issued was 439,253,350.

Two cents, violet; in arched rectangle
picture representing the ‘‘Landing of Col-
umbus,’’ after the painting of Vanderlyn.
Printed from 135 different plates; total
number issued 1,461,290,750.

Three cents, green; in arched rectangle
picture of the Santa Maria at sea; inscrip-
tion below, ‘‘Flagship of Columbus,’?
Printed from four plates; total number
issued, 11,288,850.

Four cents, light blue; in arched rectan-
gle picture of the Pinta Nina and Santa
Maria; inscription below, ‘‘ Fleet of Colum-
bus.’’ Printed from five plates; total num-
ber issued, 19,027,600.

Five cents, chocolate; in arched rectangle
copy of the painting by Brozik, represent-
ing ‘‘Columbus soliciting aid of Isabella.’’
Printed from five plates; total number
issued, 35,248,500.

Six cents, purple; in arched rectangle
figure of Columbus on horseback; in arched
niche at each side figure of warrior and
statesman, from bronze doors, by Randolph
Rogers, in the Capitol at Washington. In-
scription below, ‘‘Columbus welcomed at
Barcelona.’’ Printed from a single plate;
total number issued, 4,330,250.

Eight cents, magenta; in arched rectangle
copy of historical painting representing
Columbus being raised from his knees by
Queen Isabella; inscription below, ‘‘Colum-
bus restored to favor.’’ Printed from five
plates; total number issued, 10,650,650.

Ten cents, slate-brown; in arched rect-
angle copy of painting by Luig Gregori
representing Columbus presenting American
Indians to Ferdinand and Isabella; inscrip-
tion below, ‘‘Columbus presenting natives.”
Printed from five plates; total number
issued, 16,485,260.

Fifteen cents, dark green; in arched rect-
angle copy of painting by R. Baloca rep-
resenting Columbus before Ferdinand and
Isabella and their court relating the history
of the discovery of the New World, inscrip-
tion below, ‘‘Columbus announcing his dis-
covery.’’ Printed from a single plate; total
number issued, 1,547,790.

Thirty cents, sienna-brown; in arched
rectangle picture of Columbus standing be-
side a globe on a table at which are seated
priests of the Convent of La Rabida, from

 
1+

a painting by R. Maso; inscription below,
**Columbus at La Rabida.’’ Printed from a
single plate; total number issued, 600,300.

Fifty cents, slate-blue; in arched rectangle
“Columbus on horseback receiving messenger,
copied from painting in Capitol at Washing-
ton; inscription below, ‘‘Recall of Colum-
bus.’’ Printed from a single plate; total
number issued, 200,710.

One dollar, salmon; in arched rectangle
Queen Isabella, with attendants and jewel
case, after a painting by Munoz Degrain;
inscription below, ‘‘Isabella pledging her
jewels.’’ Printed from a single plate; total
number issued, 55,520.

Two dollars, dull lake; in arched rect-
angle copy of picture by Lentze, represent-
ing ‘‘Columbus in Chains.’’? Printed from a
single plate; total number issued, 24,079.

Three dollars, yellow-green; in arched
rectangle Columbus seated before the king
and queen describing his third voyage,
after a painting by Francisco Jover; in-
scription below, ‘‘Columbus describing his
third voyage.’’ Printed from a single plate;
total number issued, 19,3381.

Four dollars, carmine; portraits of Queen
Isabella to left, Columbus to right in circles,
with names in straight lines below. Printed
from a single plate; total number issued,
18,469.

Five dollars, black; portraits of Columbus
in circle; seated figure of Liberty to left,
Indian at right side, ‘‘Columbus’’ in straight
line below. Printed from a single plate;
total number issued, 19,035.

With the single exception of the $1, these
stamps can all be obtained at face value yet.
There probably never was a series of stamps
issued that was so largely bought up by
speculators, and used specimens brought
good prices and ready sale to dealers all
through the year in which they were on sale
at all post-offices, but the speculation was
entirely too extensive, and probably three-
quarters of those who invested money in
them to any extent came out losers, or
are yet holding them with the unpleasant
assurance that they could not obtain face
value for them if sold at present. A’ syndi-
cate formed to buy up all the 50 cents and
$2 to be found, has just had to unload thou-
sands of dollars’ worth of these two values
only at a loss of $25,000 at least.

: * om * ‘

E. L., Palmyra, Mo.—There is no premium
on the cent of 1850.

* * * *

A. T., Wheeling, W.. Va.—Your stamp is
a counterfeit and of no value. The cata-

logue price of the revenue $1 black and
green is 7 cents; the 30 cents inland ex-
change is worth 4 cents; 1869 2 cents,
brown, is worth 15 cents; the 3 cents, blue,
2 cents: the 2 cents, black, with grill, is
worth 25 cents; the 2 cents, green, with
Grant’s portrait, is cut from a letter sheet,
and is of no value; the 2 cents, bank check,
blue, is worth 2 cents unperforated, 50
cents part perforated, and 1 cent perfor-
ated; the 2 cents bank check, orange, only
comes perforated, and is wort) 2 cents;
Hall A. Ruskel, 3 cents, black, is worth 5
cents.
* * * *

C. H. A., Monroe, N. Y.—We have
marked the catalogue price under each of
your stamps; many are so mutilated as to
be of no value; torn stamps or envelope
stamps cut round are of no use to collectors.

—_—_-_ »>-Oo--—> —-—---
THE RISING GENERATION,

‘*Pa,’? said the boy, shaking his head
dubiously as be looked up from his book,
‘‘T am afraid I can never understand all
these words.’

‘Tut, tut, my boy,’’ returned the father,
laying aside his paper, ‘‘you mustn’t get
discouraged! Once you learn the definitions
you will have no trouble at all in under-
standing how to use them. Take any word
you wish. -

‘¢ *Hast,’ pa,’’? suggested the boy.

‘Yes, of course. ‘Fast’ means Ay
rapid. Understanding that, you can’t make
any mistake,’’

‘*A fast horse is one that runs, isn’t it???

‘Well, yes, sometimes. You’re beginning
to understand.”’

‘*But, pa, a fast man generally rides,
doesn’t he?’?

‘‘Um, my boy,’’ and the old gentleman
looked at his son over the top of his glasses,
*tyou’re beginning to get technical.’?

‘And a fast color is one that won’t run—
isn’t it?’’

‘‘There, there—that’ll do!”’

‘*But, pa, I want to know,’’

“‘Run out and play, and don’t bother me
any more when I’m reading the paper.’’

ff.

—_——__@ 9--@
A TRIFLING CAUSE.

The new missionary wept softly.
‘(And so my predecessor died of a trifling

cause, you say?’’

The king of the Cannibal Isles shifted his
tobacco plug uneasily to the other side.

‘*Yes’’—he cast a stealthy yet meditative
glance at his largest favorite copper kettle
—‘'He died of a mere boil.”’

A rude shout announced the rapid ap-

zoach of the court executioner and lord

ae cook.

GooDpD

HOW BILLY EARNED His BICYCLE,

270U young rascal! Do I look a likely

man to risk his precious neck ona

pair of flimsy wheels. Go in
bicycle indeed! What next?’’

And really Peter Popley could scarcely be
blamed. He weighed two hundred and
eighty pounds if he weighed an ounce.

Even Billy had never anticipated that his
portly uncle would take the suggestion seri-
ously. It was merely the boy’s way of in-
sinuating that a bicycle would be very
acceptable to his uncle’s nephew.

‘*No, you scamp,’’ Peter Popley contin-
ued, ‘‘even if I had the ability, I’ve a little
too much sense to go scooting across country
ona bicycle. My reasons for abstaining
from such a course are grave, unauswer-
able—ahem !— weighty. Does your precious
cyclist pay road taxes? Not he, indeed, but
he looks upon the highway as his own
especial property for all that. It was only
last week that that harum-scarum chum of
yours, young Bailey, ran flop into me in broad
daylight. lt appears that even your uncle’s
portly proportions are invisible to the
cycling eye! If I’d been a hundred pounds
lighter he’d have knocked me down—the
young dog! And yet you want me to en-
courage such proceedings as these by ‘going

for a

 

 

in for a bicycle.’ I would just assoon mount
a torpedo !”’

Peter Popley, jolly and generous as he
was, had done his level best up to the pres-
ent to spoil his nephew, but here he made a
firm stand.

His pet prejudice was cycling, and his
views on the popular pastime were rather
amusing. To his mind no cyclist was
properly equipped for a twenty-mile spin if
unprovided with an extra pair of wheels for
his machine, a few yards of bandages, and
an experienced bone setter as a personal
attendant.

‘*No, no, my lad,’’ he declared when Billy
again ventured to broach the subject.
‘*Cychng, as I understand it, is a mixture
of pain, peril, and puncture. Ill buy you
a gun if you like, but bicycles are dangerous
things.”’

With which remark he strode off to see
what progress his workmen were making,
for Peter was the owner of one of the largest
and most profitable stone quarries in all that
part of the country, anda thorough business
man.

Owing to exceptionally bad weather, op-
erations in the quarry had been suspended
for a Tew days, and had only been resumed
that morning. z

On nearing the gateway leading up to
the quarry Peter stopped, and an angry
light gleamed in his eyes at sight of a
skulking figure in the road.

‘‘You here again, Crafton,’’ he said,
sternly. ‘‘I ordered you off the premises.’

The man addressed as Crafton muttered
something in a whining tone to the effect
that he was ‘‘hard up.’

‘*And who have you to blame for that?’’
demanded his late employer. ‘‘How often
have I warned you what would be the result
of your idle, drunken habits? Again and
again I have listened to your excuses and
promises, and have given you another
chance; but when you took to robbing your
fellow-workmen of their hard-earned money
you went a step too far. There is no room
in the Workworth Quarry for a thief. Now,
go! and if ever I find you skulking about
here again I?ll hand you over to the police.’’

Mr. Popley had taken a step or two in the
direction of the quarry, when a suspicious
sound behind him reached his ears. He
turned to find Crafton with a huge stone
raised to strike him down.

Peter had been an athlete in his day, and,
avoiding the missile interided for his head,

‘he seized the fellow by the throat, and threw

him bodily over the gate into the road as an
angry bull might have tossed a snarling
terrier. Then, without a word, he turned
and strode in the direction of the quarry.

Stretched across one corner of the Work-
worth Quarry was a stout plank, from
which the shale and ‘‘waste’’ were tipped to
the bottom after the sound stone had_ been
removed,

The quartymen were at dinner, and when
the owner stepped on this plank in order to
see how the ‘‘baring’’ of the stone was pro-
ceeding he did not know that Crafton, with
murder in his heart, was watching his every
movement from behind a pile of newly cut
stone.

Before the other was aware of his presence
Crafton had seized a crowbar, and had _ in-
serted it under the end of the plank.

‘*Now,’’ he shouted, exultingly, ‘‘ whose
turn is it now?”’

Mr. Popley realized his danger too late.
With a mocking laugh Crafton raised the
end of the plank and thrust it forward.

As he dropped the crowbar and fled he
heard the despairing cry of his victim, fol-
lowed by the crash of the plank as it reached
the rough stones eighty*feet below.

* * * * * * *

‘Steady, Tiger, old man! There’s noth-
ing about yet.’’

Billy was wrong, however. He had taken
the dog to a disused quarry in the hope of
obtaining a rabbit, but had met with little
success ‘as yet. The tenants of the numerous

NEWS.

holes wisely declined to come out, and Billy
was at a loss tu account for Tiger’s uneasi-
ness

Suddenly he heard footsteps at no great
distance.

‘*Somebody running this way,’’? he mut-
tered. ‘‘I wonder who it can be? It can’t
be Uncle Peter; that’s certain.’’

A moment later Billy caught sight of a
flying figure close at hand.

‘*Crafton! And coming from the quarry,
too! Ill have a look round and see what
he’s been up to.’’

Tiger seemed disposed to follow the fugi-
tive, but, luckily for Crafton, Billy called
him back.

On reaching the quarry the boy at once
discovered that the plank was missing.

‘*What good has that done the fellow?’’ he
uttered. ‘‘It can easily be replaced and—
Good gracious! What’s that?’?

Peeping over the edge of the quarry he
saw the body of his uncle lying on a ledge
some twenty feet below.

Billy shouted again and again but received
no response. A slight/twitching of the limbs
alone indicated that Mr. Popley was still
alive. Fortunately he was unconscious. He

and an effort to rise or even to. look round
would in all probability end in his toppling,
| over. Billy saw this danger and held his
| tongue.

Taking his handkerchief he dipped it in
| the tank and after squeezing out the water
| wrote with a copying pencil on the damp
| linen:

 

‘*Uncle fallen into the quarry—send help.”’

“Home Tiger! home!’? he commanded,
tying the message to the dog’s collar and
sending hin) off.

Then running to the steam crane he
jumped on the platform, threw open the
valve and swung the great arm round.

With a rattle the chain was paid vut until
three or four feet of it rested on the ledge
when Billy made all fast and hurried back
to his old position.

The chain was dangling some four or five
feet from the side, and Billy shuddered as
he reflected on the certain death awaiting
him if he missed. it.

Throwing off his coat and cap he took ¢
short run and sprang forward. The leap was
well judged.

Clutching the heavy chain with hands and
legs the plucky youngster slipped down to
the ledge. He was only just in time.

Mr. Popley was .recovering consciousness
and had raised himelf into a sitting posture.

Exerting all his strength, Billy seized the
chain and drawing it under the armpits of
the injured man made it secure. ;

‘*Vie stilleuncle,’’ he said, ‘‘Help is com-
ing ard we’ll have you out of this in no
time. Are you hurt much?’’

‘*Leg broken I think,’’ answered Mr. Pop-
ley, faintly. ‘‘How did you get here???’

Before Billy could explain all assistance
arrived. Some of the men returning from
dinner had met Tiger and after reading
‘Billy’s message had hurried forward to the
quarry ‘ :

Sacks were thrown down and with these
the lad made his uncle as comfortable as
possible.

How the precious freight was raised and
what a cheer greeted Billy as he walked
alongside the rough litter on which the in-
jured man was laid, the Workworth quarry-
men will never tire of telling.

As for Crafton he was arrested shortly
afterward, but justice had already overtaken
him. He was a raving maniac.

A few mornings later a very handsome
pheumatic-tired safety bicycle arrived at
Rastville, the residence of Mr. Popley.

‘*'Yes, my boy,’’ said Uncle Peter, in re-
sponse to Billy’s questioning glance, ‘‘it’s
yours; but I want you to promise me one
thing.’? ,

Billy in the fullness of his gratitude would
almost have promised not to ride it.

‘*Well,’’ continued his uncle, with a merry
twinkle in his eye, ‘‘I want you to allow
your old uncle to get fairly and squarely on
is legs again before you begin to run over
him with that machine, Give him a fair
chance to look after himself.?’

ee
SO CLEAR!

Sir Walter Raleigh, in his memoirs, says
that he once witnessed a fight, sr upon
questioning a dozen’ witnesses within an
hour after the occurrence, got a dozen
different versions of the affair. Thereupon
he despaired of the truth of history.

It is indeed very difficult to give the why
and wherefore of any quarrel, and even the
participants are sometimes unable to shed
any light on the subject. eS

The lad who gives the following account
of a fracas in which he was engaged would
have broken Raleigh's heart:

‘*1’ll tell you how it was, You see, Bill
and I went out a fishing, and I felt in my
pocket and found my knife, and it was
gone, and I said, ‘Bill, you stole my knife,’
and he said I was another; and I said
could lick him if I was bigger’n him, and
he said I was a bigger one. He said I never
had the measles, and I said it was time for

| Branch 41.

 

him to fork over that knife, or I'd settle
him. Then he said my grandmother was no

 

   
  

gentleman, and I said he dursn’t take it up;
but he did. Then I got up and said he was
too much afraid to do it again; and he tried
to, but he didn’t, and I grabbed him and
throwed him down on top of me; and I tel

you it beat all, and so did he, and my dog -
got behind Bill and bit him, and Bill kicked”
at the dog, and the dog ran awey, andI
didn’t catch him till he got home—and Ill
lick bim more yet. Is my eye very black???’

+0 >
INSTANTANEOUS WEALTH.

The miners of New Mexico tell a queer

story which illustrates their belief in luck. ;

A miner was trudging along one hot day
through a gulch, with the sun shining on
his back, when he smelt smoke, and pres-
ently, to his dismay, discovered that his”
knapsack was on fire. mu
Like all miners he carried a large lens for
the purpose of examining specimens, and fo
want of room he had hung the glass on the
outside, and the rays of the sun had been”
concentrated on the pack.
As among its contents were fifteen poun
of powder, he lost no time in dropping the
dangerous burden and getting ’as far away”

was lying on the very brink of the abyss | as possible, The knapsack fell between two

big rocks, while the miner, from a sa
distance, mournfully watched the smok
rising from his sole worldly possessions
Presently there came a deafening explosion
and the miner went to gather up what
could find. “a
Then his eyes almost started out of his
head at seeing the quartz that had beet
blown up fairly glistening with gold. H

powder had literally blown open a gold |

mine, and he was made arich man in au
instant.
He named his mine the ‘‘Nick o’ Time.

—_———_~>_ + ___—_

AMON G
(o~

——_

[SPECIAL NOTICE.—This column is for GOO
NEWS Clubs only. No notices will be inserted
excepting such as are genuine GOOD News Cli
notices, and nothing in the shape of an advertise:
ment will be allowed. Every club notice showe
have the names of the president and secretary, OF
the club attached. For information coneernitf
GOOD NEWs Club Badge and Electrotypes see
vertisement on last page. | :

IMPORTANT NOTICE. ~
In response to requests from a very large number
of club members,
Goop News clubs, giving a number to each. Now

but genuine GOOD NEws clubs will be accepted. W
ask the secretaries to communicate with us as soon

possible, giving the name of the club, together with YS

list of the officers. The numbers will be assigned !
rotation as the letters are received.

We would also like to have the opinion of office!
in regard to forming a committee which shall hav
general supervision of all the clubs, a sort of cel
government, as it were. * \

Itis our wish to make Goop Nrws clubs the m

suggestions as to means to effect that end. .

——_  ———.

CLUB CHAT.

G. F Justice, 821 E. 2d street, Pueblo, Col., wou
like to hear from secretaries of Goop.Nrws clu
Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, and New Mexico. —

Edw. W. McEntee, 333 W. 145th street, New YO
Cc. A, Lonergan, Polo, I. ; and Geo. C. Woodwor
Box 38, Cochranton, Pa., have been elected sup:
representatives for their respective States. By
Branch 4.

A Goop Nrws club has been started in Norv
under the name of the Goo News Twentieth Ce
Corresponding Club, of Norwalk, Conn. The offi
are: A. R. Malkin, president, Riverside avenue, -
walk, Conn.; Edward Seymour, vice-presidel!
Henry street, Norwalk, Conn.; M: H. Schum
secretary and treasurer, 82 Wilton avenue, Norw:
Coun. h

The following letter speaks for itself: ‘“Having
moved from Sioux City, Iowa, and located here
Kasota, Minn., I have concluded to discontinie My
club—the Goop NrEws Fidelity Corresponding ©!
My business will not permit an.
issues, as much as I like to be an active NP
Some time in the future I may conclude to ent
ranks of clubdom. Please give me a notice in
‘Club Chat’ column, and also say that any one
ing a 2c. stamp to.the ex-secretary can have @ D' Sed
of reading matter and three of our lists of mem
With best wishes for the continued prosperity Of
‘King of Boys’ Weeklies,’ { am, yours in fi
and sincerity, Edw. F. Molen, Kasota, 3
Minn .?? 3.4 A

amie Lis

CLUB NOTICES.

What! WHaven’t you decided yet that the
NEws Stars and Stripes Corresponding Club, Bra?
23, isthe club you should join? Do not let your
pass over the notice, but read it over carefu
then decide ifthis is not the club you should joi
are about to commence a new prize contest W:
be open to members only, so join immediately:
take part in this contest. We are trying e
large number of new members before 1897, and fees
you to Help us by sending us your name and f
Once a member always a member. The main ted
partment of this club is the correspondi de 1¥
ment, and with members in Canada, an ath
every State in the Union, we can supply you |
plenty of correspondents. , We want members *
every nation on the globe, and request fore “fie
send us their names and address, and they
admitted free. To the first one joining after
notice appears we will send a book entitled: “Ho ;
Learn a Business Education at Home.”
others joining we will give our beautiful eight
membersbip list, membership card, stamps, el
not delay, but join atonce. Initiation fee,
no dues. Ladies and foreigners admitted
further particulars inclose a stamp to the
and treasurer, William G. Castpbalk, Duluth, M

Joop NEWs Progressive Club, Brauch 45.
dias de V. senoritas y caballeros, Are you in
in the Spanish language? If not, why not?

PM

Goon News iGLUBS 4

we have decided to reorgan ce ¥

rs cose ms © & ct Rm me em om hee ea.
  

 

=
Seg

 

 

 

 

ov. a

 

: fivited to join.

GooDp

  

NEWS.

15

 

spoken more than any other language, except the
English. A person knowing Spanish can travel
through Mexico, Cuba, South and Central America,
and Spain, besides other countries. It is not hard to
learn, as some persons think, and is sweet and pleas-
ing to the ear. We supply our members with a paper
printed in Spanish, besides other literature of the same
general kind. You will take more interest in the
struggles of the brave men who are fighting for their
freedom against overwhelming numbers under the
tyranny of Spain. We havea corresponding branch
from which our members derive much pleasure,
especially when those who are studying Spanish
begin to correspond together in that language. Our
members are supplied with new issues of stamps as
they come out at a cost of only ten per cent. Over
actual cost. They also have our exchange and auction
sales to dispose of their duplicates. We have others,
and you will find they are equally valuable to belong
to. Any further information will be cheerfully given
by the secretary, provided stamp be inclosed. “Initia-
tion fee, 15 cents; no dues; both for ladies and gentle-
men, W. A. Mitchell, president; C. E. Nash, secre-
tary, 75 West street, Danbury, Conn.

Join Branch Thirty-one,
Plenty of fun,
Ten cents for the admission fee.
Ten papers, I say,
Are given away,
And the dues are 10 cents for months three.

Stamps also are seen ;

We give seventeen,
Seventeen is the number, I say,

To every new member

In the month of September.
We also give prizes away.

Ladies are free,
The reason, you see,
Is because the boys want them to write to;
Each boy wants a girl,
And a cane just to twirl;
He’s in heaven, or at least he does think so.

So join the club now.
Don’t create a row
By saying, ‘‘I’1] wait,’ ‘‘Can’t to-day.”
We are living still
In Missouri, Pleasant Hill,
Send your letters to Harry G. Clay.

We don’t claim to be the best or have the largest list
of members of any clubin the GooD Nrws Associa-
tion, but we do know that the clubite who does
not join the Goop News I. X. lL, Corresponding
Association, Branch 388, is missing a good thing,
Our fee is small, and we have. no dues, thus
making ‘38’? a very inexpensive club. We
don’t offer large inducements to obtain mem-
bers, but simply give you the necessary articles.
We want you to join on the merits of the club.
Neither do we get your money, and then forget your
existence, but try to keep you interested. Prizes are
offered each month. It will pay you to join. If you
are not satisfied with your investment we will refund
your money. What more do you want? Members
receive card, list, and have a right to compete for
prizes offered. Initiation fee has been changed to 12
cents; do dues. Official organ, 15 cents per year extra.
Young ladies and foreigners admitted free. First join-
ing from each State made representative. Address
all communications to Will F. Hollinger, secretary of
*38,’? Cherokee, Lowa,

What? Haven’t heard of what the Goop Nrws
Science Club, Branch 49, is giving to all joining? Why,
we aregiving to all joining the magic bottle. You
take a bottle full of water and five glass tumblers,
then you pour some water out of the bottle into a
glass, and it is still water; pour some in the second
glass, and you behold port wine; then pour some in
the third glass, and it has changed to champagne ;
pour some in the fourth, and you see sherry wine ;
pour some in the fifth, you bave milk, Just think,
water, port wine, champagne, sherry wine, and milk,
all from the same bottle.. You can perform the trick
over and over. We give all except bottleand glasses.
Itis very simple. We will give this apparatus, with
several other fine experiments, toall joining, You can
completely astonish all of your friends. The fees and
dues combined are only 25 cents. M. Elexander,
president; B. W. Langsdale, secretary, 1212 Tracy
avenue, Kansas City, Mo.

Books, microscope, stamps, and stories given away.
A great prize contest for members ofthe Goop NEws
Hustlers’ Club, Branch 9. The contest is to see how
many words youcan make out of the letters contained
in the words “‘Hustlers’ Club.’”? The person sending the
largest list will be given a paper-bound 125-page book,
by Horatio Alger, Jr. ; for the second largest list, a
fine new microscope; for the third largest, fifty differ-
ent stamps; for the fourth and fifth largest lists, a good
Story. The conditions are as follows: 1. All words
must appear in Webster’s dictionary. 2. No proper
names allowed. 3, Place words in list in alphabetical
order. 4. Your list of words must be mailed before

‘October 10th. If you are not already a member of the

Goop News Hustlers’ Club 12cents must be inclosed

as fee; no dues. You receive card, list, stamps, pen,

reading matter. Address G. R. Guernsey, secretary

a treasurer, Goop News Hustlers’ Club, Irwin,
Lo,

Itis only a dime—that is all. Ten cents, silver or
Stamps, will make you a lifetime member of the ‘old
reliable’ G. N. L. S.C. C., Branch 12. There are no
dues—never will be any, either. It is a corresponding,
reading, and pleasure club. Members are all up-to-
date young people. Reading department consists of
& large variety of novels, and you can read as often
as you please, In fact, this club is up to date in every
Way. Join now so as to receive full benefit. All
joining receive list of members, beautiful member-
Ship card, and a large packet of stamps, besides a
handsome present. Ladies and foreigners free. They
receive presents, benefits, etc., same as paid mem-
bers. We want alive representative in every State,
80 please state whether you would like to act as one
Or not. Address the secretary, Will O. Jones, Box
335, Paris, Texas.

“Silver or gold?” Thatis the question many people
are trying to solve. A prize contest has been estab-
lished for the benefit of those joining the Goop News
Excelsior Corresponding and Exchange Club, Branch

. Members belonging and readers joining have the
Tight to vote once only. The person guessing the
hearest number of votes (electora!) that their candi-
date receives (naming him) will receive a year’s sub-
Scription to this paper; the second, six months’ sub-
Scription, and the tenth a cabinet-size portrait of the
Secretary of this branch, Everybody join and secure
“prize. Voting closes October 24, 1896. Initiation
€e, 10 cents (silver); no dues. William F, Gorman,

Secretary, 60-Gates street, South Boston, Mass.
Notice.—Boys and girls, that the Granite State
Sop Nrws Corresponding Club of Portsmouth;
-, Wants 100 members and mean to get them

; A
; ifit is in our power to get them. We have special
-MNducement for this week. The first one answering

MS notice will be appointed representative of his or
€r State. Weare going to print a club paper as soon
We can get fifty members. Printers are especially
We want to establish a branch club
N the West and all those interested can write to
Ifred Roessner, 186 W. Madison street, Chicago, Ill.

Goop News Club, No. 29, is. still giving a real

Camera and outfit to its members after they pay in a

Year's dies, Besides the camera they receive a bundle
Of story papers or novels every month. Dues can be
Paid in advance or a month at a time.

some other premiums to offer to members. Send
stamp to the secretary for full particulars. Dues, 10
centsa month. Wm, Dodd, secretary, 2246 N. 21st
street, Philadelphia, Pa.

Any person joining the I. M. P. A., Branch 13, this
week, can join by sending five numbers Goop NEWS
between 207 and 225 and 2c.stamp. You get card,
list, by-laws, money maker, experiments, exchange
mailers, foreign stamps, exchanges, two games, two
puzzles, Goop Nrws button, mail directory, bundle
circulars, etc. Homer Martin, Box 38, Clinton, Mo.

Branch 54, known as Goop NEws Pleasure Club of
New Orleans, has elected the following officers:
Archie Selph, president; Francis Jara, vice-president;
W. Stanfield, secretary ; and James Ellis, treasurer.
Fee, 10 cents; dues, 10 cents per month. Join our
merry throng. Address Willie A. Stanfield, secre-
tary, 2136 Magazine street, New Orleans, La,

 

¥

iE, XCHANGE

Cao
4

EPARTMENT.

 

 

 

Read This Before Sending In Your Notices.

{Hereafter exchange notices containing the follow-
ing named articles will not be inserted, viz.: Story
papers, firearms, explosives, dangerous, or worthless
articles, cigarette pictures, tobacco tags, soap wrap-
pers, and prize coupons bearing name of manufac-
turer. All offers must be strictly exchange offers.
This column is free to all our readers, but nothing
suggesting an advertisement will be permitted. If
exchange notices do not appear in a reasonable time,
it may be understood that they are not accepted.
Address all communications for this column to ‘“Ex-
change Department.’’}

pa aie

MISCELLANEOUS.—J. A. Kraus, 12 Miller street,
Auburn, N. Y., has the following articles to exchange
for best offer in any kind of 5-cent novels: One toy

snake novelty, one, receipt how to make
lemonade, a good money maker, one imp bottle, one
Oriental finger trap, one false mustache, state color,
four 25-cent novels, new, one can of polish for cleaning
metals, etc., one dozen fish hooks, one patent self-
lighting match safe, one set of trip around the world
portfolios, one set of World’s Fair portfolios, five
comic motto buttons, and other articles too numerous
to mention.

CORNET.—E. D. Brown, Otsego, Mich., has an
Eb-cornet (brass) to exchange fér a banjo or medium-
sized camera,

STAMPS,—Ed. A. Wickens, 73 and 75 Varick street,
Utica, N. Y., has a collection of over 700 United States
and foreign stamps in a Scott’s Stamp Album of the
World (album cost $1.50), and all stamps in good con-
dition and some very rare; will exchange for Kodak
or any good camera that will take picture 4x5 or
larger; camera must bein Al condition. A111 letters
answered.

FAN MOTOR.—H. Meisoll, 108 2d street, Brooklyn,
N. Y., bas a fan motor and outfit to exchange for a
camera, All letters and postals answered.

MISCELLANEOUS. —George Westly, Missoula,
Mont., will be glad to hear from anybody who has
electrical goods, books, or drawing instruments to ex-
change for a large number of bound and unbound
exchanged for best offer. All communications re-
plied to.

FOOTBALL AND SKATES.—J. F. Powers, 15
Willett street, New York city, has a Rugby: football
and a pair of American Club, nickel-plated steel ice
skates which he would like to exchange for a Kodak
or a medical battery, or would exchange both of them
for a pair of Donoughue ice skates.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Wm., Dodd, 2246 North 21st
street, Philadelphia, Pa., has magic lantern and out-
fit, four books on magic and ventriloquism, ten differ-
ent games, twelve different tricks, camera and outfit
(takes 2!4x2!4 pictures), pockét camera and outfit,
bicycle pump (han@), $1.50 fife, 50-cent French micro-
scope, $2.50 stamp album, containing 300 stamps, to
exchange for best offers. Inclose stamp for reply or
description.

MISCELLANEOUS.—C. E. Bostwick, Elkhart,
Ind., has stamps, papers, books, coins, curios, and
twenty-five different useful articles (few), to exchange
for a printing press, 6x9 or larger, and outfit.

STAMP PAPERS.—C. D. Wood, Mount Washing-
ton, Md., has thirteen stamp papers to exchange for
thirteen others not in his library. Will send list.

MISCELLANEOUS,—C, H. Smith, 43 Charles Ter-
race, Philadelphia, Pa., has the Oracle of Destiny (a
game), philatelic papers, and coins to exchange for
Columbian stamps with all who send 8 cents in stamps
to pay postage.

MANDOLIN.—Arthur H. Wild, 167 Lewis street,
dition, to exchange for a good printing press, the size
of chase being no smaller than 4x6,

MISCELLANEOUS, — Frank I. Coates, Joseph
street, Medford, Mass., will give a 5-cent novei or a
pound of reading matter for every bicycle, campaign,
or motto button sent him; a zeotrope for three; a
pound of reading matter for 100 stamps; any denomi-
nation.

STAMPS.—Carl E, Magni, Lock Box 339, Holdrege,
Neb., will exchange United States revennes for same
off sheets on Scott’s 56th basis; also has good foreign
on sheets for United States revenues, postage, depart-
ments, and due stamps; any one having any kind of
United States stamps will do well to write him; also
has 25-cent and 50-cent novels by popular authors to
exchange for stamps. All letters answered.
ELECTRICAL GOODS.—Francis A. Huneke, 316
Kast 119th street, New York city, would like to Kear
from any one who has anything in the electrical line
to exchange. All letters answered.

NOVELS.—G. A. Baas, Batesville, Ind., has fifty
25-cent novels to exchange for United States revenue
stamps; one novel for United States revenue stamp,
catalogue price, 25 cents ; none catalogued at less than
8 cents accepted.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Richard Costello, Box 710,
Franklin, Mass., has stamps and novels to exchange
for newspaper or Magazine headings; would also like
to hear from anybody having post-marks to exchange.
READING MATTER. — Magnus Arnold, 3832
Honore street, Chicago, Ill., has $3 worth of good
reading matter for beys to exchange for same ; cloth-
bound books by Alger, Adams, Castlemon, or any
other good books for boys, preferred. All letters
answered.

STAMPS.—Edwin Dodson, 411 East'3d street, (Flat
5), Cincinnati, Ohio, will give ten different United
States stamps for every lapel button; not less than
two taken,

MISCELLANEOUS.—O. G. Tague, 806 W. High
street, St. Mary’s, Ohio, has $10 worth of 50-cent
novels, ‘Simplex’ typewriter, value $5; $5 worth of

 

We have also herbarium cogtaining fifty of the choice flowers oly

5-cent and 10-cent novels, reports of Agricultural, In-
terior, and Congressional Departments, book contain-
ing all the official correspondence on the boundary
controversy between Great Britain and Venezuela, a

flying machine, one package of secret conversation
sards, one jack-knife, one Pat Jones Jews harp, one |
circus |

works of well-known authors; a bicycle will also be |

Chicago, Ill., has a good mandolin, in first-class con- |

   

| onio, mounted on herbarium sheets, valued at over
| $25; the following books for boys: “Boy Caribou
| Hunters,” by Chas. B. Cross; ‘Westward, Ho,” by
| Henry L. Black; “Afloat with a Circus,” by Black;
“All Aboard, or the Rival Boat Clubs,” by Weldon
| Cobb; ‘Camp and Canoe,” by St. George Rathborne;
| also a hand inking printing press, inside of chase,
6x10, with roller, chase, wrench, etc.; one magic lan-
tern, value $2; one steam-engine, value $1, and many
other things of various values to exchange for self-
inking printing press, inside size of chase, 8x12, or
larger, in first-class condition in every particular, with
rollers, fountain, etc.; also type wanted in exchange.
Everybody write, for he has something to please
everybody having press of above size.

STAMPS.—Geo. H. Brown, Box 146, Antwerp,
N. Y., will give 500 1c. Columbian stamps for an 1890
90c. orange United States stamp ; 2,000 mixed United
States, from 1851 to 1895, for a 7c. United States ver-
milion, issue 1870 (Stanton); 1,000 United States for a
United States, 1872, 15c. orange; will give one book,
entitled “Boston: Its Finance, Commerce, and Litera-
ture,” 300 pages, weight two pounds, for an 1891 30c.
postage due stamp ; a silver watch, worth $15, for a $5
Columbian ; will give 300 United States for a United
States revenue 50c. conveyance; 300 for a 50c. entry
of goods; 500 for a 50c. life insurance; 1,000 for a
United States revenue 3100 conveyance ; 5,000 United
States for a $500 mortgage stamp ; 600 United States
for a $200 conveyance, red. All letters and postals
answered.

BOOKS.—L. Shafer, Homer, Mich., has cloth and
paper-bound books to exchange for large size magic
lantern and complete outfit.

TYPEWRITER. — Cornell Kaylor, Dwight, I1.,
care Livingston Hotel, has one World typewriter,
with hard-wood, plush-lined case, made by the Pope
Manufacturing Co., makers of Columbia bicycles, to
exchange for either the $1, $4, or $5 Columbian stamp,
used or unused,

BICYCLE SUIT.—R. A. Taylor, 202 E. Bancroft
street, Toledo, Ohio, has acorduroy bicycle suit which
cost $12, and not worn much, and can be used as hunt-
ing suit, to exchange for cornet or some other musical
novelty or instrument.

NOVELS.—Ralph W. Norris, North Vernon, Ind.,
will exchange one 5-cent novel for every political or
comic button sent him.
| STAMPS AND NOVELS —Will D. Hanley, Read,
| Ontario, Canada, will give twenty-five well mixed

 

 

foreign stamps for every lapel button, or a 25-cent
novel for every four lapel buttons; no election buttons
taken. All letters answered: promptly.

MISCELLANEOUS.—Harry C. Bard, Oneonta,
N. Y., has a bicycle, campaign, advertising, and
motto buttons; also stamp papers, stamp albums, cata-
logues, and stamps to exchange for stamps off ap-
proval sheets. All letters answered if 2c. stamp is in-
closed. Write for fuller list.

STAMPS.—W. L. Phillips, 83 Beech street, Indian-
apolis, Ind., will exchange fifteen foreign stamps or
four Columbian stamps for every revenue stamp sent |
him; a 10c. claret due stamp, lightly canceled, for
every five revenues, and a 30c., 1890 issue, for twenty
revenues, or a 30c. stamp of present issue.

MISCELLANEOUS,—T. F. O’Connell, Forestville,
Conn., has the following articles to exchange for a
5x8 self-inking press or printing matter: Fifty 5-cent
novels, ten 10-cent novels, books to the value of $5,
175 envelopes, two 3x5 printing presses, in fine con-
dition; one font of type, in good condition; two games,
plating outfit, books on education, Leslie’s ‘Tllus-
trated History of the Civil War.’ He will exchange
| them together or separately. All postals and letters
answered.

 

Noricr.—Owing to the extraordinary number of ex-
change notices received, many are left over until next
week,

———+- e-e __

Our Mai. Bac.

bee a

{Questions on subjects of general interest only are
dealt with in the “Mail Bag.’? Medical or legal ques-
| ions not answered. Goop News goes to press two
weeks in advance of date of publication, and there-
fore answers Cannot appear until two or three weeks
after we receive them. Communications intended for
this column should be addressed Goop News “Mail
Bag,’’ P. O. Box 2784, New York City,

ela atin

Dirk Fontein, Cleveland, Ohio.—During the last fifty
years Great Britain has been at war more frequently
than any other nation. The total number is forty
wars for fifty years. These wars may thus be sum-
marized: Sikh War, 1845-6; Kaffir War, 1846; war
with China, 1847; Afghan War, 1849; Sikh War,
1848-9 ; Burmese War, 1850; Kaftir War, 1851-2; Bur-

   

I>

 

| dent.

mese Wars, 1852 and 1853; Crimea, 1854; Chinese
War, 1856.8; Indian Mutiny, 1857 ; Maori War, 1860-1;
wars with China, 1860 and 1862; Maori War, 1863-6;
Ashantee War, 1864; Bhootanese, 1864; Abyssinian
War, 1867-8; Bazotees, 1868; Maori War, 1868-9;
Looshais, 1871; Ashantee, 1873-4; Kaffir, 1877; Zulu,
1878-9; Afghan War, 1878-80; Basutoland, 1879-81;
Transvaal, 1879-81; Egyptian War, 1882; Soudan, 1884-
89; Burmah, 1885-92; Zanzibar, 1890; India, 1890, and
Matabele, 1894 to 1896,

F.J., Jr., Philadelphia, Pa.—1. Yes, we intend to
continue publishing comic stories on the last page.
There will be no sequel to ‘‘Grimesy.”’ 2. Itis not yet
quite decided where the next Gay Dashleigh story will
be located. Perhaps in Greece. 3. The carpenters’
trade is a good one. 4. This question will be answered
in the Stamp Album. 5. Which is the best New York
daily is entirely a matter of opinion. 6. Tiffany is the
leading jeweler of New York. 7. Someof the leading
theatres in New York are Daly’s, Palmer’s, the
Knickerbocker, Empire, Garden, Broadway, Garrick,
Herald Square, Hoyt’s, Casino, Lyceum, Academy of
Music, American, Columbus, Fifth Avenue, Standard,
Star, and Grand Opera House.

A. X. Y., Key West, Fla.—In regard to your ques-
tion as to the bomb described in “Gay Dashleigh in
Cuba,” a similar bomb was invented some time ago
by a German. -It was composed of glass divided into
two partitions. Each side was fitted with a different
chemical, harmless in itself. But when the bomb was
thrown, and the chemicals mingled, an explosion
took place, and not only animal, but vegetable life
was destroyed within & space of at least ten yards in
every direction. The manufacture of the bombs was
forbidden by the German government.

P. G. M., Helena, Mont.—Disregarding the bat and
the toad, about which naturalists disagree, the serpent
is the animal which can live longest without food.
One of these reptiles in confinement has been known
to refuse food for a period of twenty-two months, A
viper will live ten months without food, and a bear
six months, while even a horse will live twenty-five
days without solid food, merely drinking water.

Curious, Hamilton, Ont.—A man can be his own
grandfather. The puzzle is usually illustrated in this
way: A widower and his son marry. The father
marries the daughter of a widow, and the son marries
the young lady’s mother. He therefore becomes
father to his own father, and consequently grand-
father to his father’s son—i. e., himself.

C. W. D., York, Pa.—1. Place in the coop of your
pigeons gravel, corn, eggshells, and plenty of fresh
water. 2. Let them fly in the early spring. Raise
American Homers and you will have no trouble, 3,
No, this is nonsensical. There is nothing you can
give them that will make them stay at home. 4. Yes,
we will publish exchanges of pigeons.

Mack. V., Media, Pa.—1, Simply Ko-Ko. The
lower classes of Japan rarely have more than one
name. 2. No, the Arthur Sewall who writes for Goop
News is not the Democratic candidate for Vice-Presi-
3. The numbers 1 to 10 in Spanish are: Uno,
dos, tres, quatro, cinco, seis, sieta, ocho, nuevo, diez.
4. No, he is not a real character.

Pantzer, Philadelphia, Pa.—1. The feats you narrate
are very creditable, indeed. There is no reason in the
world why you shonld not be a very strong man, if
you take care of your health, and exercise with dis-
crimination. Be careful, however, not to overdo. 2,
Thank you for your kind words of appreciation.

W. H. Z., Wolcottsville, N. Y.—1l. Kate Field died
in Honolulu. 2. Ex-Governor Russel died at Camp
Little Pabos, Canada, July 16, 1896. 38. Some of.the
Cuban leaders are Maximo Gomez, Antonio Maceo,
and Calixto Garcia. 4. Harriet Beecher Stowe died at
Hartford. Conn., July 1, 1896.

O. W., Cripple Creek, Col.—l. We expect to have a
story by the author named during the winter, 2, Not
at present. 3. We advise you not to join the army as
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GOOD IlkKwWsSs.

 

 

 

Banc Brown,
The frinters He.

 

 

 

BY WILL

CHAPTER III.
HOW_TO RAISE AN, OLD MAN.

fy ELL, Saffron is out of the way,
. and the coast is clear,’’ said Syd-
ney. ‘‘Let us sit down here and

have a good talk.

‘*Now, what leads you to think, or even
hope, my dears, that your father is still
living?’’ he continued. ‘‘He has been gone
so many years, and you have never heard
from him.’

‘*Hope, my dear Sydney, is as unaccount-
able as it is comforting. It is the one God-
given attribute that levels cast. The beggar
may be as rich in hope as the prince,’’ said
Ethel.

‘*Ah, my poor girls! I bope that your
hopes may be realized,’’ said Sydney.
‘*How like my own sad history has been

yours. I hada sister, and while we were
both children, our father left us to go to

California. I left my sister (a mere babe)
here, and went to seek him. I at last suc-

eeeded in finding him in the mines of

Colorado, sick with a fever. I watched him

until he died, and then returned to find my
_ sister.’?

-**And did you find her?’’ Ethel asked.

‘*No; she wandered away from her nurse
and got lost.or was stolen, and from that
day to this I have never seen nor heard of

her, although I have searched diligently.’’

Bouncer, putting his head out of the
closet, said, softly :

“Seek no furder, she’ll be a sister to ye!??
_ **By all means,’’ said Mary; ‘‘it will be a
labor of love.’’

‘‘Yum, yum,’’ whispered Bouncer.
“Thank you, my dears,’’ said Sydney.
“And as I love you both, I shall fede no
- stone unturned in| finding and restoring
your father to you.’

_ **Dear, kind friend,’’ cried Ethel, press-
ing his arm, ‘‘we can never repay your

_ kindness.’’

 **¥You have been more than a brother to
- us,’? said Mary.

 *T beg that you will not mention the

er little I Rive done, my dears. You deserve
Hore he kissed each of the
‘You bet they deserve

irls.

issin’,’’ said

_ Bouncer.

‘*Ten thousand——”’
Here he kissed them again.
‘Then give it to ’em,’’ whispered
Bouncer, craning his neck over. Peggy’s
_ head, so that Be could get a good view of
them. — cs

But in doing so he leaned so heavily
against Peggy that she lost her balance,

and shot out of the closet like a bullet,

closely followed by Bouncer.

- The lovers jumped up, frightened out of
their wits, thinking that a couple of the
Skeletons had run out on them.

e Tip Top
terly—

 

WINNER.

An hour or two later the two old chaps,
Saffron and Livegood, returned home from
Delmonico’s, both ina very mellow condi-
tion.

As they neared Saffron’s house, the latter
said:

**Say, Dob, old boy (hic) iz zis what they
call (hic) havin’ a good time?”’

‘* Ves, Saf, zis iz enjoyin’ life.’’

‘*T (hic) thousso. Say,’’ stopping and
pulling his hat down over one eye so as to
look tough, ‘‘do I look (hic) like a man
*bout town—a roistering blade???’

‘*Very much. Do you feel good, old boy?”’

‘*Bully! Hoop—ee!’?

Here their conversation was interrupted
by the appearance of a third person.

It was none other than Sydney Wilson,
who, having conducted his two sweethearts
home, was returning to his room.

‘‘Mr. Livegood,’’ said Saffron, ‘‘zis iz my
dear friend, Mr. Sydney Wilson. Mr.
Wilzen, zis iz my bes’ frien’, Mr. Dobson
Livegood. Be acquainted.’’

‘*) am eens to know you, sir,’’ said Live-
good. always take great interest in
young men.’

‘‘And I take a great interest in young
ladies,’’ said Sydney.

“Bet ye do, and don’t blame you. I did,
too, at your age. Shouldn’t wonder if you’d
seen one of the charming creatures to-
night.’’

‘To be candid,’ said Sydney, ‘‘I’ve been
to see two.”’

‘*Two, you rascal! Two? Not satisfied
with one, but must have two. Look out
that one doesn’t find out about the other, or
there’ll be fun.”’

‘They do know of each other—in fact,
they are sisters.’’

‘*Aha! going to marry the whole family,
eh? How about the mother-in-law? Going
to marry her, too?’’

‘*No, no; these are two or phan girls, but
beautiful and accomplished; and my only
difficulty is that I don’t know which one to
take. J love them both, and they love me,
and there is no choice between them.??

‘*T zay, Dob,’’ said Saffron, ‘‘I’m goin’
to bed. If you want to stand out here all
night that’s your business,”’

‘All right, Saf, I?ll be along in a minute;
good-night.”’

‘*Good night,’’ said Saffron, going in.

“‘T7ll tell you what to do, my young
friend,’’ said Livegood, resuming his con-
versation with Sydney ; ‘‘get some friend to
take one of ’em, and you take t’other.’’

‘*There’s the difficulty. I know of none I
could recommend,’?

‘*Gosh! if I were twenty years younger
I’d find you some one quick enough.’’
| “You’re not to old. Young ladies usually
take kindly to old gentlemen, especially if
the latter have money.’

‘*There’s the rub again. She would only

marry me for my money.’?

 

hag “FOR FIETY, CENTS.
i Ra ade by newsdealers everywhere, or

| ag Ps mail rion akon

Pe the ee”

 

 

‘*Well, that’s nothing. Treat her all right,
and she’ll soon get to love you. Besides,
you’re not old—just in your prime, and not
bad looking.’?

‘‘Ah! you rascal, you’re quizzing
But will you introduce me?’’

‘‘With pleasure. Be at Saffron’s  to-
morrow night, and I’ll fetch the young
ladies therex’’

‘*T7]] be there sure.’’

‘*Don’t fail. Good-night.’’

‘J won’t. Good-night. I’m not going in
just yet.’

ln fact, the old man went around the
corner and got another drink.

When he returned he found the door
locked, of course, and pulled the bell a
dozen times before he could raise any
one.

At last, when he had about exhausted his
patience and strength, Saffron came down
in his night clothes, opened the door a little
ways, and put his head out. Not seeing any
one in the dark, he stepped out, when the
wind blew the door shut.

‘*Hello, Dobson, is that you? Thought
you’d gone to bed an hour ago,’’ said he.

‘*Like to know how I’d go to bed when
you locked me out.’’

‘*Me lock you out, my old friend? Not for
the world. Door locked itself. But, come,
let’s go in.”?

He tried the door, and then it flashed
upon him that they were both locked out.

‘*Here's a pretty go! Both locked out, and
I in my night clothes.’’

Here he yanked the bell.

No response.

He pulled again and again, but to no
purpose. Then he began,to yell for Jack,
whom he knew must be in the hall bedroom
on the second floor.

‘*Bouncer! Bouncer!’’ he yelled, and then
yanked the bell again.

No response.

‘*Bouncer! Bouncer! come down and open
the door, or 1’]l come up there and murder’
you.

‘*No, you won’t,’’ laughed Livegood,
‘funless he does come down; and he ain’t
likely to if y u threaten to kill him.”

‘*Thasso. Bouncer! come down and open
the door, there’s a good boy.’

Bouncer opened the whan: rubbed his
eyes, and looked down.

‘‘Who’s there?’? he demahded.

‘*1t is I, Bouncer; come down and open
the door.”

‘Sorry I can’t do it; but the dog’s loose
in the hall.’?

‘That settles it,’? cried Saffron. ‘‘No-
body can pass that deg at night. What shall
we do?”’

‘*Hold on, 171] fix you,’’ said Bouncer.

He retired from the window, and soon re-
turned with a large clothes basket tied to
the end of a rope. This he lowered to the
street and said

me,

‘*There, Mr. Saffron, you git in and Dil

draw you up, and/ then the two of us can
draw the colonel up.”’

‘*T’ll be hanged if I do,’’ said Saffron;
‘*that boy wants to kill me!’’

‘*Nonsense!’’ said Livegood; ‘‘get in, un-
less you want to stay out here all night.”’ |

Saffron was*finally prevailed upon to get
into the basket, when Bouncer hauled him
about half way up, so that he could neither
get any farther up or down, and then
fastened the rope and shut the window,

‘*T knew it!’’ yelled Saffron; ‘‘I knew he
was up to some of his infernal tricks.
Bouncer! Bouncer! haul me up, you villain,
or I shall be the death of you! Bouncer !
Bouncer !”’

‘It’s of no use,’’ gaia Livegood; ‘‘he

 

MOTHER

doesn’t intend to draw you up, that’s clear.
Better come down.’?

‘‘How the deuce am I to come down? I
can get up as easily as down!”?

‘*Hold on, I’ll see if I can get a ladder.’

Livegood went away, and soon returned
with a ladder, but it was too short to reach
the basket.

‘*That’s too bad,’’ he said; ‘‘but I’ll hold
it up and you climb down onto it.”?

The fat man steadied the ladder under the
basket, and Saffron put down one of his
thin shanks toward it, but his weight all.
coming on one side the basket sw ung to one
side. *

‘‘Hold yer ladder steady, will ye! How do
you expect a man to get on when yer let it
wabble?’’ yelled Saffron.

‘“'Tain’t the ladder; it’s your blamed old
basket that wabbles. "Try it again.’

Saffron put down the other leg, ss the
basket swung the other way. ;

‘“Who the blazes can get onto yer ladder
when yer keep letting it wabble?’’ shouted
Saffron ‘‘You’re intoxicated, Dobson Live-
good!’’

To make matters worse it now began to -
rain.

‘You're drunk, Saffron!’’ howled Live-
good. ‘‘Hurry up, I’m getting wet to the
skin !’’

‘*Do you s’pose I’m staying up here for
fun! Do you think I ain’t getting wet, too??? —

Saffron tried once more, but he could not
get onto the ladder.

‘*Tt’s no use,’? he shouted. ‘‘You don’t
know enough to hold a ladder!” :

“‘T don’t, don’t 1? Then stay up there till —
you rot!’ cried Livegood, throwing down |
the ladder.

‘‘Just as I expected! Ye didn’t intend to
help me down in the first place, you old, fat 3
fool!’

‘‘Who you calling fat? Don’t call me a
fat fool, you spindle-shanked critter !’’ cried
Liv egood, dancing about and shaking his |
fists. ;
‘‘Here’s a chance for some fun,’’ said —
Bouncer, putting out his head. ‘‘It’s too
bad to spoil a nice sluggin’ match by keep-
in’ ’em apart.’’

Here he unfastened the rope and _ let
Saffron down to the pavement, when a
policeman rushed up and grabbed both the
old fellows.

‘*Come on,”? said the policeman.

‘Hold on!’? said Livegood;
respectable geut——”’ :

‘*Don’t arrest us!’’ cried Saffron; ‘‘this 1s
my house, and this is a friend of mine. |
We’re respectable——’’ 3

“Oh, yes, dat’s all right; I’ve had them
stories afore. Ye’re a pair o’ crooks, T’ink
I don’t. know ye? I’m been watchin’ ye try
to break into dat house for some time.
Come on!”’ : ;

And he marched them off.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)
———_——___ + oe —_—_—_-
THE GREATEST OF PLEASURES.

—_—-—

Little Willie—‘‘Father, Johnnie Jones lis
going over to the dentist’s this mor ning to
get his tooth pulled. May I go along wit
him?’

Father—‘ What do you want to go for?”

_ date Willie—**To hear him holler.”?

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