Read Lieutenant Frederick Gar-
rison’s latest West Point story,
complete in this number.

Vol. 1. No. 19
Oct. 23, 1897

eheneeeeeeeieet

 

 

 

 

yeceeed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

THE MUSEUM.

WEST POINT MILITARY ACADEMY.

 
Army and Navy Weekly

ma WEEKLY TUBLICATION FOR OUR BOYS.

Issued weekly. By subscription, $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-Class Matter at the New York Post Office
STREET & SMITH, 238 Wulliam Street, New York. Copyrighted 1897.

Editor, - - ~- ARTHUR SEWALL. |

 

 

October 23, 1897. Voi be Noo 19, Price, Five Cents.

CONTENTS OF THIS NUMBER:

Clif Faraday’s Troupe (Complete story), Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N.

A West Point Hop (Complete story), Lieut. Frederick Garrison, U. S. A.
A Leap for Life (Illustrated Short Story) Robert Richardson

In Forbidden Nepaul (Serial), William Murray Graydon

Tom Fenwick’s Fortune (Serial), Frank H. Converse

Dean Dunham (Serial) Horatio Alger, Jr.

Klondike Gold Digging (Sketch) . ae

Rules and Regulations of the United States Military Academy

Rules and Regulations of the United States Naval Acadmy . ‘
Editorial Chat, ‘ : : ’ : : : : : : Department
Athletic Sports, : : : : ; : ; “ ; Department
Items of Interest all the World Over .. . : 4 : ; Department
Correspondence Column, ; : : ; : : ; : Department
Stamps Column, . AD ee ee en es Department
Amateur Journalism ; ; . : : : : : Departm ent

Our Joke Department

 

PRIZE CONTEST.
POCKET MIONEY FOR CHRISTMAS!

Te publishers of the Army and Navy ain of obtaining the

opinions of their readers on the military and ng stories now running,

and for that purpose offer the following prizes for th” _~« setters on the subject.

TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS divided into FIVE PRIZES of FIVE DOL-

LARS EACH will be given for the five most sensible opinions as to which is the

best written and most interesting story of the ten to be published in Nos. 19, 20, 25,

~ 22 and 23 of the Army and Navy Weekly. Letters should not exceed two hun-
dred words in length. ‘This contest will close December Ist, 1897,

 
Clif Faraday’s Troupe;

AN ENTERTAINMENT AT SEA.

IS

Asigm Clarke Bitch, LU.

Ss. We.

 

CHAPTER I.
SAIL DRILL AT SEA.

“IT don’t believe a word of it.”

Vdt’s true, nevertheless, Payne,”

‘‘But think what it means, my dear
fellow. Why, such a thing has never been
dreamed of before on a Naval Academy
practice ship. Plebes give an entertain-
iient? Pshaw! you're crazy.’

‘‘Here comes Blakely. He’ll tell you
whether I am right or not.’?

The speaker pointed along the starboard
part of the Monongahela’s spardeck. A
stalwart, manly youth of twenty witha
brisk, resolute air was sauntering for-
ward.

He halted in front of the two and
glanced inquiringly at Naval Cadet Payne,
who had beckoned to him.

_ “What's up ??’ he asked.

‘Why, this chump here has been: tell-
ing me a ghost story. Hesays the old
man has given the new fourth class per-

mission to hold an entertainment on the

gun-deck.

That's straicht, Rerotson. )’

‘*Wh-what!”’

‘“The plebes headed by that very gally
function, Faraday, sent in a request this
morning asking Captain Brook’s permis-
sion to give a minstrel entertainment on
the forward gun-deck. The old man gave
his consent at once, and itj be held
Saturday nigitt.°?

‘“Well, that beats the deck !’’ exclaimed
Ferguson, with a prolonged whistle.
‘*Fellows, the service is going to the dem-
nition bow-wows. I’ve been a naval
cadet in the service of these great and
glorious United States almost four years,

and never have I dreamed of such a state
of affairs.’ x

‘It’s all the fault of that Faraday,”
muttered Payne. ‘‘He’s kicked up more
rows than enough since he entered the

Academy last month.”? 5

‘tiie’s too iresh-””

“That's what.””

Blakely looked over the side at the vast
stretch of shimmering water’ surrounding
the practice ship, and smiled.

He was a young man of very fair and
even temper, was Walt Blakely, member
of the first class, and captain of the Naval
Academy football team. ..He rather liked
‘that cheeky plebe,’’ Clif Faraday, and

he secretly admired him for that same

cheekiness, but he also believed firmly in
the divine right of the upper classes.

A plebe—a new fourth classman—was
a worm of the earth. He existed simply
by the will of those over him. He was
not allowed any privileges except to |
breathe and to eat and to sleep at odd
times. : -

He was a nonentity, a cipher, a nega-
tive quantity. That was the status of a
plebe in the minds of the upper classes,
and Blakely agreed with the opinion.

Therefore when Payne and Ferguson
broke out in loud remonstrance he added
his voice to theirs. :

‘“The truth of the matter is,’’ said Fer-
guson, resentfully, ‘‘the old man thinks
the sun rises and sets in Faraday’s vicin-
ity. .

Meutre thing,’ agreed Payne. “Ever
since Faraday jumped from the top and

saved Nanny Gote from drowning, he’s __

in luck:

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

CTE was a splendid act,’ commented
' Blakely.

**Yes, but it’s no reason for letting the
plebes upset all the Academy traditions.
Why——”’

““There’s Faraday now,’’ interrupted
Payne, nodding his head toward an ap-
proaching figure.

The new-comer was certainly hand-

some and well put together. He-had a
splendid athletic carriage, and his face
was intelligent and keen.

He glanced qtizzically at the little
group as he passed, and then joined sev-
eral new fourth classmen gathered on the
forecastle.

Payne and Ferguson reddened slightly.

*‘He looked as if he knew we were
talking about him,’? sniffed the latter.

“He probably does,’ said Blakely,
dryly. ‘‘He’s no fool. He knows his new

‘move will make more row than a bunch —

_ of magpies.’’
= . ‘I'd like to punch his head.”’

“Don’t try it, dear bey. He’s goed at
that work himself. He knocked Sharp
out about as neatly as Fitzsimmons could.
What’s that call?’
> ‘The shrill blast of a boatswain’s whis-
tle sounded along the deck. As the trem-
ulous piping died out, a hoarse voice
called out:

‘*All-] hands reef topsails!”’

“More drill,’’ grumbled
moving off.

Ferguson,
‘‘We've had nothing but
drill since we left Annapolis.”’

“Practice makes perfect,’’ grinned
Blakely, as he started toward his station.

The quiet decks of the old Mononga-
hela speedily became a scene of bustling
activity. The boatswain’s call brought
the watch tumbling aft. The hatches
poured forth a steady stream of active,
healthy lads clad in snowy duck.

‘The first weutenant and his assistant,
the officer of the deck, took their stand
upon the break ofthe after deck. The
_ captain sauntered from his cabin prepared
to watch proceedings with a critical eye.

_ All was ready.

‘* Aloft topmen!’’ shouted the first lieu-
' tenent, sonorously, through his trumpet.

At the word a number of nimble cadets,
members of the first and third classes,
| et ap the Pees in a mad race for the
ae se

867

On board a vessel like the Mononga-
hela there generally exists a strong rival-
ty between the three tops—the fore, main
and mizzen..

In all drills each tries to defeat the
others. In making sail it is the nimble
crew that gets all taut first. There are no
prizes offered, but a smile or nod of com-
mendation from the executive officer or
captain is worth more than medal or
money.

In making, or furling, or reefing sail a
certain number of men—in this case ca- _
dets—are selected as topmen. It is their
duty to run aloft and to man the yards.
To lay out and reef or furl, or to handle
ropes in the top.

At the first warning command they
spring upon the nettings and mount the
lower part of the shrouds.

‘They are supposed to wait patiently and
in line for the word of command, but do
race horses wait patiently at the post!

They slyly creep up several ratline
until the vigilant eye of the first lieuten-
ant catches them, then they relucantly
drop back only to spring aloft again at
the first word from the trumpet.

Once given they risk their necks to
gain the top. Arriving there they stand
ready and wait like champing steeds for
the command:

‘' Lay out!” .

In the meantime those below stationed
at the fife and pin-rails are to do all in
their power to ease ,off the different hal-
liards and clewlines and the various run-
ning gear.

This latter task, under the careful su-
pervision of several trained first classmen,
belongs to the plebes.

It is too soon in the cruise for the lat-
ter to trust their‘precious lives above the
deck, so they pull and haul and try their
inexperienced best to bring their part of -
the ship in first in this race “of knowledge —
and brawn.

The topsails are reefed and spread
again to the breeze. Thre sea is calm and
the blue sky overhead holds no threaten-
ing cloud.

The drill goes on until the captain cries
enough. Then the ship is made trim once

—more, and the cadets listen longingly for

the sound of the boatswain’s whistle pip-_

ing ‘‘Mess gear,’’ for that means dinner,

 
868
andif there is anything a naval cadet
likes to do at sea, after the salty breeze
aud active work has toned his stomach, it
is to eat.

And eat he does, rest assured of that.

ee

Ce Arr EuR IL
TALKING IT OVER.

‘‘T play plenty times in my country. I
was bully boy with eyeglass. Hurray! all
Japan girls think I good thing.’?

‘Did they push you along ?”?

*“He! he! you try be funny, Clif. Yes,
they push me along. They say I good
actor and know how to inake laugh. Say,
Clif, we no do one thing to other cadets
when we have show. Hurray! they die
with what you call—-a—___”

‘‘Chills and fever?’ suggested a lean,
solemn-faced lad.

‘No. It——”’

“ Measles 22?

‘You quit fooling,
your face.
envy, 7

The group of plebes gathered about
the speaker laughed at his quaint man-
ner.

Trolley wasa general favorite on board.
He was a Japanese student sent to the
United States Naval Academy by request
of the Japanese Government.

He was shrewd, a faithful student, but
a latent spirit of fun made him a boon
companion to Clif Faraday and his coterie
of mischief makers.

There were four of these beside Clif
and Trolley, all new fourth classmen ad-
mitted at the May examinations.

Clif Faraday was the leader, and under
his able guidance the sextette hed broken
about all the unwritten laws of the Aca-
demy, and, as Ferguson had mournfully

Joy, or I fracture
Imean the cadets die with

Dut if, had turned the whole ¢ place upside .

down.

The last straw—and a weighty one it
was—was the rumor that the plebes on
board the practice ship had obtained the
captain’s permission to hold an entertain-

ment on the forward part of the gun-

deck.

That had been a perogative of the up-
per classes since time immemorial.

Tn fact the first and third classes were

“ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

show.

The Monongahela had sailed from
Annapolis a week previous. She had

passed the capes three davs later—days ==
devoted to drill and a general shaking

down—and after a strange adventure at

sea with a derelict, had gone on her way

unharrassed by storms.

When quarters were over on this morn-
ing in question the exciting news circu-
lated throughout the ship that Clif Fara-
day, the cheekiest plebe of the lot, had
boldly asked Captain Brooks for ae

sion to give a minstrel show.
captain had actually con-

And the
sented.

Deep was the wrath on board, and
many the dire threats made that the en-

end. :

Clif Faraday was no fool.
that trouble would ensue.
looking for trouble.

The show was simply one link in a

But he was

chain of reprisals against the common

enemy—the first and third classes.

fle “had it in,’”’ to use a common ex--

pression, especially for the latter class.
They—the members

provocation. “From their ranks were

drawn the ‘‘plebe devilers,’’ as the cadets

in authority over
termed,

plebes were aptly

They ‘‘deviled’’ with exceeding skill

and ingenuity, and the lives of new
fourth classmen were vexatious and a bur
den.
Small
turned.
Under Clif’s leadership they had accom-

wonder that the

plished wonders, and the minstrel enter-
-tainment was simply one of the manny —

schemes to be followed in the campaign.

After drill the six chief conspirators oe

gathered in their usual meeting place,
the port side of the forecastle.

Trolley’s remarks were laughed at, then
after a period of bantering Clif proceeded ae

to more serious work.

é

We are not going to give an entertain.
ment with the ease of an eastern and

peaceful city,” he said, glancing aft at Fer-
guson, who was in the centre of an ani-
mated ‘group of third oe. .

even now thinking about cheer annual 3

tertainment would come to an untimely

He knew.

collectively—were ee
given to hazing the plebes at theslightest __

ee ce

 
find our lines laid out in troubulous

places, let me tell you. I prophecy that
an earthquake will strike this ship around
Saturday night.’?

**Hurray !’’ exclaimed the irrepressible
Jap. ‘‘Me like earthquakes. ‘That is thie
way we settle our coffee in Japan every
motuing. He! he!’

*‘Trolley,’’ said Joy, eyeing him sadly,
‘it is time for you to go home. Whena
foreigner begins to crack bad jokes he
should be given his passports. As we
haven’t any such papers on board, I'll try
my best to teach you the error of 7s

- ways.”?

While speaking he had edged slyly to-
ward the Japanese youth. With the last
word he made a spring for him, but
Trolley slipped under his arm and dashed
across the forecastle.

Standing near the railing were two
plebes not on speaking terms with Clif
and hischums. ‘Their names were Jud-
son Greene and Chris Spendly.

Into the former ran Trolley, the shock
_ sending him reeling against the rail. As
Judson grasped at the empty air to steady
himself, his cap fell overboard and was
carried astern.

Greene was not a very pleasant looking
youth, despite his rather handsome face,

and now he seemed positively ferocious

with rage.

‘“‘What do you mean, you yellow nig-
ger?’’ he howled, making a pass at Trol-
ley. ‘‘How dare you run into me like
that? Ill give you a lesson you won’t
forget in a hurry.’

But he didn’t. The blow he aimed at
the Japanese youth inflicted no damage.

_ Trolley caught the extended arm by the

wrist and with
held it in midair.

**I sorry I knock your cap into water,’’
he saic, quietly. ‘‘I get you one for it.
But Ino let you hit me.”’

_Judson struggled wildly but he was
simply a child in the Jap’s grasp. Chris
spendly stepped forward to interfere, but

_ Joy confronted him with such a menacing
gesture that he discreetly withdrew.
Clif and the others hurried across the

apparently little effort

a : deck, as did a cadet officer who had espied _
o> Ure Runtict from afar.

_ “What’s up?” asked Clif, endeavoring
to ee the two combatants,

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

‘“He knocked my——”’’ began Greene,
then he added, sullenly: ‘

right have you to interfere ?’’

Clif laughed.

‘Still as sweet as ever, I see, Greene,’’
he replied, coolly. ‘‘Got the same angelic
eer Ger?

‘‘Here, what’s this row?’? demanded
the cadet officer, arriving breathlessly on
the scene. ‘‘Fighting, eh? ‘That means
the mast to-morrow morning.”’

He produced a book from his blouse
and read aloud as he noted:

‘‘On board U. S. S. Monongalrela, at
sea, June 22d. Fourth class cadets Jud-
son Greene and Motohiko Asaki, fighting
on forecastle. Cadet Greene without cap
and evidently the aggressor.’

‘‘T was not the aggressor!’’ indignantly
cried Judson. ‘‘That chump ran——”’

‘‘Cadet Greene proved insolent, and
used slang,’’ continued the cadet officer,
calmly making the entry in his book.

‘Guess we’d better get out of this or
we'll be marked for breathing, »» muttered
joy.

“If you will permit me to explain,”’
spoke up ~CHfi -respectiully. ° ““lsaw the
whole affair. It was an accident, and—’’

‘‘Cadet Faraday of the fourth class in-
terfered with me in the performance cf
my duties, and failed to use ‘‘sir’? when
addressing me,’’ monotonously added the
officer, writing away.

The plebes exchanged glances and then
beat a hasty retreat to the other side of the
forecastle. ‘The senior cadet grinned to
himself, and restoring his book to its
place, swaggered aft.

‘Well, that’s certainly one way of
keeping even,’? exclaimed Clif, with a
whistle. ‘‘Did you ever see anything
worse than that???’

‘*Humph! grunted Joy. ‘‘It won’t be
a circumstance to what we’ll do to those
fellows next Saturday night. Just let
them wait and see.’?

‘‘And Ido no thing to Judson Grae Z
some days,’’ said ‘Trolley, doubling his
fist. ‘I knock him eye into last Sunday.
Hurray!”

 

none OF your oS
confounded business, Clif Faraday! What
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

CHAPTER ITE
JUDSON RECEIVES A SET-BACK.

That evening after supper ' Cadets
Blakely and Fergnson were slowly pac-

ing up and down the port side of the

spar-deck talking over the ail- -engrossing
subject—the plebe’ S minstrel show.

‘°To tell you the honest truth, Fergu-
son,’’ said the big senior, after a pause,
‘‘T don’t see how we can stop the thing
without raising a lot of trouble.’

‘‘Oh, there is more than one way to
Piva cat,’ replied the other, “‘You just
_ promise that you will lend a hand, and
I’ll furnish any amount of schemes.’

‘*But the old man has given his con-
sent, you know.”?

‘“That doesn’t cut any ice. What right
has he to break a cadet rule? He wasa
cadet himself once, and I’ll bet anything
he was just as strict against the plebe
class as we are. Why, how was it your-
self? Did you kick, and raise the deuce,
and refuse to be—er—to be——.”?

‘‘Hazed,”’? smiled Blakely.
fazed. ’?

‘‘Humph! I was too scared.’

‘“The proper feeling. So was I. Why,
they made me eat a yard of -red ribbon I
brought home to remember my girl by.
Yes, made me eat the whole blamed
thing. And it put me in the hospital for
a week, too. But I didn’t kick or squeal
either”?

‘You can’t say Faraday ever squealed,”’
said Blakely, quickly.

‘‘No, I won’t say that,’’ replied Fergeu-
son, reluctantly. ‘‘But he’s done every-
thing else. He’sa fool. Why, the whole
plebe class is as impudent as you please.
Yesterday I told that little fellow, Nanny
Gote, to do something for me, and he ac-
tually refused.’’

‘You don’tsay! That’s bad. But what
was it?”

Ferguson reddened.

‘Why, I—it—I just asked him to over.
haul my bag and give the clothes an air-
ie

“And——” persisted the big senior,
smiling slyly.

‘“‘Oh, nothing more—that is, I believe
I asked him to wash all the soiled
things. ”?

‘‘And he refused? The impudent beg-
gar! He’s certainly unreasonable.’’

‘Yes,

The sarcasm in die words made Fer-
guson uncomfortable, and he said noth-
ing for several moments. As they slewly
paced up and down the deck a cadet
emerged from the forward hatch and eyed
them.

He waited until they had made a turn
toward the mainmast, then he slipped into
a dark spot near one of the broadside
guns.

As they passed him on their way back
he called out in a cautious voice:

‘I say, Blakely. Look here a moment,
will you?”

The two stopped and faced the speak-
er, Ferguson with an Satie of sur-
prise.

‘‘Hello, it’s a plebe,”? hé at

“Judson Greene,’’ added Blakely, not ~~ :

very cordially.
Pieper’?

‘*Id like to say a word or two in pri-
vate,’ replied Greene, nervously.

He cast a furtive glance forward as he
spoke, and drew farther into the deepen-
ing shadows.

‘A word with me? What about?”
asked the big senior, coldly. :
Judson hesitated and looked at Fersu-
son. ‘The latter started to go away, then
he stopped and said, significantly:

‘If you have anything to say about the -
plebe entertainment, I can hear it also.
I guess I am as much interested as
Bikey

‘‘Yes, it’s about the show,”’ was Jud-
son’s eager reply. ‘‘I sympathize with you
fellows and I'll put you on to a scheme to
down Clif Faraday and his gang.”’

Blakely made a gesture of disgust.

‘What do you think we are, confound
you?’ he demanded, angrily. ‘We
haven’t any use for traitors, and that is
what you are. Get out of here with your
dirty propositions. Come, Ferguson.”?

Judson slunk away without a word,
and the honest-hearted big senior re-
sumed his walk with Ferugson. A few
minutes later He was called on duty.

As soon as he was alone Ferguson
promptly hunted up Greene. ‘Taking
him to a secluded spot, he held a long
and earnest conversation with him, the

“Well, what do you want,

result of which was evidently satisfactory a

to both. =e
In the aide the object of thet =

Se

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

conspiracy was busily engaged in prepar-
ing the details of the. coming entertain-
ment. =

He had secured permission to partition
off the forward part of the gun-deck asa
hall for rehearsals, and, as only three days
intervened before Saturday, he ordered
one held that night.

Curious upper classmen, attracted by
the unwonted sounds of music, gathered
about the spot, but they were kept in or-
der by a special detail of plebes, rein-
forced by the master-at-arms and his as-
sistant.

Shouts of laughter, a confused murmur
of voices, an occasional snatch of song,
and the rattling of bones and banging of
tambourines only added zest to the curi-
osity of the hearers outside the canvas
partition.

Among the latter were Ferguson and
a sallow, thin cadet named Bryce. The
two were discussing the scene in low

» tones when Judson Greene slipped up to

them.
‘“Well?””
him.
‘‘Everythine settled,’’? was the reply,
given guardedly. ‘‘I’ve prepared the
stuff. 1711 work like a charm?’

asked Ferguson,

espying

“Well, have it ready,’’ said Ferguson,

briefly.

As the youthful traitor glided away,
he added to Brvce:

“T hate like the deuce to dabble in such
dirty work, but we must put a stop to this
insolent att empt to give ashow. That
fellow Greene is a sneak and a scoundrel,
and I wish Faraday would lick him for
keeps. ”?

“After the entertainment is busted up,
eh ?”? laughed his companion.

Ferguson nodded, and the two present-
ly went on deck, the music and laughter
and songs following them like a mocking
chorus.

ae 0 ees

CHAPTER IV.
PREPARING FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT.

When Saturday dawned and the weath-
er proved promising the members of the
-plebe class on board the old Mononga-
hela were as happy as hearty, good-na-
tured boys can be.

‘On board a vessel of war Saturday is

“ cheerfully ; ‘‘

871

regarded as a holiday. Only the necessary :
work, such as cleaning decks and bright
work is done.

Quarters are held at the usual hour,
then jJack’s time is his own. The
‘‘smoking lamp’’ is lighted, and those
who care to indulge in a pipe are per-
mitted to do so. In passing it may as well —
be understood that naval cadets are for-
bidden to smoke, a wise government

deeming it unnecessary for their health

or pastime.

Clif and his friends set to work imme-
diately after quarters. The forward part
of the gun-deck was turned over to them,
and a stage prepared by the ship’s carpen-
ter. A curtain was extemporized of bunt-
ing and canvas, and the space about the
stage tastefully decorated with flags of all
nations.

‘“Now, fellows,’’ said the young leader,
we must have just one more
rehearsal before the grand event.”’

‘“I thought we had the last one yester-
day,’’ grumbled Toggles, a tall, lanky
plebe who had little liking for work.

‘‘We did—until this morning. Come,
Togegles,-exert yourself. Remember the
importance of the occasion. We’ve got to
do our level best and turn out a good
show or the upper classes will have the
laughon us. Get out your big horn and
try ‘that solo again.”’

The affair was to be on the lines of a
minstrel performance, but with novel fea-
tures. Instead of the familiar, old-time
black faces and negro costumes, Clif had
provided different ideas.

“We'll make it a deep sea combina-
tion,’’ he had said; ‘‘something more ap-
propriate to the raging main than nigger
minstrelsy. Well have Father Neptune
and his suite.”?

The idea captured the plebes at once,
and they had lost no time in settling on
a programme.

Clif, disguised as Neptune, was to oc-
cupy the centre of the cirele.. At the
ends were to be Trolley, Toggles, Jey,
and another plebe named Grat Wallace.
They weie to take the parts of bones and
tambo, but to be clad in the fantastic

_ garb of sea wolves.

Hight other plebes, dressed in cadet
uniforms, were to occupy the other
chairs. They were supposed to represent

 
872
eight mortals captured by Neptune and
compelled to assist in entertaining him.

The plan was novel, and Clif was very
anxious to conceal it from outsiders until
the curtain rose on Saturday night.

His efforts had proved successful and
he was doubly concerned at this last mo-
ment to keep the secret. While the com-
pany was preparing for the final rehearsal
he carefully examined the curtain and saw
that the plebe sentiies were alert.

uae

|

 

rT

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

sisted of two asthmatic. fiddles, a brass
horn, an old drum, and a peculiar instru-
ment Trolley had rigged out of a dishpan
and a variety of strings.

In addition Clif was to perform on
musical glasses, an accomplishment he had
learned at home. ‘This was to come in
the olio or second part, together with
juggling by Trolley, tumbling by ‘Tog.
gles, an alleged humorous address from
Joy, and a boxing match between Nanny

eee

ve a ere at cabenisir bet Tn

‘(WHAT DO. YOU MEAN, YOU YELLOW NIGGER?’’ HE HOWLED, MAKING A PASS AT TROLLEY (page 869).

But he totally forgot several deadlights
and two gun ports which opened from
the gun-deck. ‘They overlooked the sea,
and for that reason it probably never oc-
curred to him that they could be utilized
by prying eyes.

When he returned from his tour of in-
vestigation he found the ‘‘Naval Aca-
demy Plebe Minstrel Troupe’’ in their
places in full costume.

The orchestra was rather weak. It con-

Gote and Walters, two of the smallest
plebes on board.

The entertainment was to wind up
with a skit on life at the Naval Acadeiny
which promised to create no end of fun.

Clif and Grat Wallace were the joint
authors and they had incorporated sly
hits and jokes calculated to drive the up-
per classes into a frenzy.

The rehearsal proceeded without a
hitch until the end of the first part.

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

Clif was just in the act of rising and or-
dering his sea wolves to take the unhappy
mortals to the darkiest coral cavern in his
realm when he suddenly caught sight of a
face at one of the ports.

Clif was shrewd. He knew that it was
a spy, and that the slightest alarm would
frighten the fellow away. His plan was
formed 1n an instant.

“Tet’s try that last song and chorus
again, fellows,’’ he exclaimed, cheerily.
‘“‘T think one more practice would not
hurt it. Now, ready! Let er so!”

The drum banged, the violins squeaked,
and Grat Wallace’s rich tenor voice rang
out in the refrain of ‘‘’The Cumberland’s
Crew.’?

While the music was echoing Clif
quietly leaned over and whispered to Joy:

‘“There’s a spy peeping in the port. I
think itis Judson Greene. He must not
be allowed to get away. See if you can’t
eiip nin.’

Joy gave an extta blast on his bass
horn, then sprang to his feet and began
to caper around as if it were part of a
grotesque dance.

‘“Good boy!’ applauded Clif. ‘‘That’s
meant Phat will. catch. the audience.
Now give us the long slide and that will
wind it up.’’ .

Joy did give the ‘‘long slide,’’ and it
brought him to the port. He was lean
and lank and agile, and in the twinkling
of an eye he had reached out and grasped
the spy by the hair.

Clif sprang to his aid, and the two
dragged Judson, cursing and struggling,
through the port where he was dangling
from a rope leading to the top of the fore-
castle. The rope was cut and the end used
to make Master Greene secure.

**Now, you confounded traitor!’’ cried
Clit “we've oot you itl a+ place: from
which you won’t escape in a hurry. You
will spy on us, eh?”

““T’ve got the right to look in a port if
T want to,’’ sullenly retorted the prison-
e. lyet ie po, or 171) tell. the captain.’

‘Let hig eo? Not niuch!’? chattered
Nanny, excitedly. ‘‘He’s in the pay of
the upper classes. I know it because I
saw him talking to Ferguson and his
Sane. . Let’s lick him.”?

“No. A whipping would be altogether
. too socd tor him,’’ teplied Clif, ‘sternly.

873

‘We'll gag the traitor and stow him un-
der the stage until the performance is
over." *
_ Judson set upa yell, but he was effectu- —
ally squelched by Trolley and Toggles.
A couple of towels were brought into use
and he was speedily gagged and thrust
into a corner.

‘‘Nanny, you and Walters can stand
euard over him until evening,’ directed
Clif, ‘‘then we’lt stow him under the stage.
He won’t be missed without Ferguson
tumbles to the racket.’? .

If Judson Greene had the power of
speech he might have said something that
would have made Clif rather uneasy. He
could think, though, and he did. And
his thoughts took this form:

‘“Clif Faraday, you think you are clev-
er, but you'll find out there are others on
earth. Before ten o’clock you will not
only have your show busted up, but
you’ll be in disgrace, too!’

CHAPTER VY,
THE MINISTREL SHOW.

All afternoon and until after supper-
time Clif and the rest continued their prep-
atations for the entertainment which
was destined to prove (so they fondly
hoped) the crowning triumph in their
successful campaign against the higher
classes.

The clever young leader and his clever
companions had every reason to antici-
pate success, for had they not beaten the
hazing third class at its own game many
times.

They had caught the spy (one of their
own class, more shame to him) sent out
by the enemy, and now he was stretched,
bound and gagged in one corner of the
stage with little Nanny doing valiant sen-
try go over him.

Clif was tactician enough to send out
scouts among the other cadets to ascer-
tain if there were signs of a plot to break
up the entertainment, but all he iearned
was that a number of the upper cadets
had secured certain articles of a vegetable
nature, also several ancient specimens of

‘hen fruit.

Whereat Clif chuckled. 3
‘“They think this is a barn-storming

 
874

(rope, eh 2) he: said
fool them.’

It was an exceedingly warm evening.
A light breeze which had been previously
blowing from the northeast, died out en-
tirely by dusk, leaving the old Mononga-
hela rolling sluggishly upon a long heav-
ing swell—the after effect of a gale in
some quarter of the ocean.

The ‘‘Naval Academy Plebe Troupe’?
found it very sultry and@close on the gun-
deck, and when the boys donned their
heavy costumes they were avery warm
set of youngsters indeed.

Shortly before the hour set for the per-
formance ane of the ward-room stewards
came forward with a large wooden pail of
lemonade and said it was a present from
aft.

The plebes were delighted, and they
lost uo time in refreshing themselves.

“Tell them we are exceedingly
obliged,’’ said Joy, emptying his third
glass. ‘‘This is great, simply great.”’

The man grinned and withdrew. Five
minutes later the seats in front of the im-
provised stage began to fill up.

‘“To your places, fellows,’’ ordered
Clif, who was acting as stage manager.
‘‘Now, remember, we’ve got a reputation
to maintain. ‘The eyes of the—er—whole
world are upon us. So behave yourselves
and act like—er—like——_”? .

‘James Owen O’Conner,”’
Wallace.

A stamping of feet came from the audi-
ence. It was time for the curtain.

Atasignal from Clif the boys at the
ropes promptly hauled up the canvas ex-
posing to view the expectant audience.

In the front row were the captain and
all the officers off duty. Back of them,
seated upon benches, chairs, and ditty-
boxes were the cadets and part of the
erew.

grinned

As the curtain rose above the stage a.

low whistle was heard, and then camea
perfect hail of soft potatoes, cabbages and
wads of oakum soaked in slush.

But these testimonials from the envious
upper classmen never reached their in-
tended destination. Clif, with commend-
able foresight, had provided a second cur-
tain of netting. ; .

The offering of decayed vegetables fell

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. |
‘““Well, we will

harmlessly to the deck and a wail of dis-
appointment came from the throwers.
‘This tom-foolery must stop right
now,’’ exclaimed the captain, rising from
his chair and addressing the senior class-
men. ‘If you-can net act as gentlemen
you can leave this deck.”

He sat down looking red and indignant.

The nondescript band upon the stage
broke out into a tune which bore a dis-
tant resemblance to the ‘‘Star Spangled
Bannet.’’ ‘The alleged music wound up
at last, and Clif rose to his feet.

Those in the audience saw him pass
one hand across his forehead in a_ half-
dazed manner. He swayed slightly and
was seen to grasp the arm of his chair.

‘‘Captain and officers and cadets of the
Mononaghela,’’? he began, speaking in-
distinctly. ‘‘It gives me—ume the greatest
pleasure to in—introduce to your favor-
able consid—consideration this talented
ag—ag——_”’

He turned and glanced at Joy, and that
youth, ordinarily solemn and mournful in

appearance, broke into a hysterical gig- ~

gle.

Two members of the audience—Fereu-
son and Bryce—exchanged glances, and
covered their mouths with their hands,

‘‘Glory! it’s working,’’ whispered thie
former.

*‘Just watch the old man,’’ was Bryce’s
reply. ‘‘He smells a.rat already. This is
Stent.”

Down in front the commander of the
Monongahela was eyeing the stage with
a puzzled expression on his face. One or
two of the officers were smiling.

Suddenly Nanny began to chuckle and
hold his sides as if highly amused. He
attempted to leave his chair, but toppled

_over against Trolley.

“That will.do,?”? shouted Clif, thickly,
“Well go on with the performicn
Ladies an’ gemmen, the firsh number on
the pro—gramish will be rendered by the
whole troupe. I’msupposed to be Father
Nepchune. You all know ’m. He ish pa-
tron father of ali shailors. ‘Thatsh me.
Those peculiar-looking animalish at each
end are shea-wolves. And in th’ middle
on each side—ha! ha! how’s that. for

Irish bull? —in the middle on each side
Everyday,

ate supposed to be mortals.
ord’nary mortalist. They came down in

ais

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

m’—iny reals—no, my realms, and now
they got to amuse ine before they go back
to the Naval Academy.”’

He sat down abruptly and laughed
vacautly.

A titter ran through the hee It
quickly grew into a roar, and then the
-gun-deck resounded with shouts of laugh-
ter, cat calls, and vociferous applause.

The captain was plainly growing an-
ery, but he managed to keep his temper.

**Is this part of the show?’’ he whis-
pered to the first lieutenant, who. sat
next to him. ‘If so, those boys are excel-
lent actors.’

“T can’t make up my mind,’’ replied
the executive officer, watching the stage
natrowly. ‘‘That youngster, Faraday, is
very clever. He’s apt to spring most any
kind of surprise. But as you say, if it’s
part of the play——”’

He was interrupted by a wild howl.
Trolley had suddenly leaped to his feet
and was giving a grotesque Japanese
dance. His eyes were glittering and he

giggled and yelled incessantly.
‘'Go it, Jap!’’ cried Grat Wallace, clap--
ping his hands.

‘‘Let’s show ’em wh—
what we can do. Whoop! we’re the bes’
plebes ever entered the ol’ Academy!
We’ve licked the third class fellows every
round. Whoop! We’ll do ’em up every
fine:’’

An answering shout came,.from several
upper classmen in the audience at this
challenge. A small coil of rope, fastened
with yarn, was hurled at the stage. It
struck the netting, tore a great hole in it,
and landed with a thump upon Toggles,
who was evidently asleep in his chair.

Clif was seen to stagger to his feet and
attempt to speak, but the uproar was too
ereat, The pandemonium was brought to
an abrupt ending, however, by the cap-
~ tain and first officer, who rose from their
chairs and faced the audience.

**Go on deck, all of you,’’ shouted the
former, sternly. ‘‘1’]1] court-martial any
cadet caught down here within three min-
Adres. "7

~The order had an immediate effect.
The deck was cleared in the time speci-
fied, then the officers, including the sur-
~ geon, took possession of the stage.

Trolley and a plebe from California had
gotten into a fight/over in one corner.

875
They were quickly separated. ‘Then the
captain turned upon Clif, who was sway-
ing back and forth with the greater part
of his Neptune costume still on him.

‘“‘Mr. Faraday, what is the meaning of
this ?’’? demanded the commander, author-
itatively... '*VYou are: druuk, siz, our.
rageously drunk.”’

Something like a startled expression
passed over Clif’s face. He rubbed his
forehead vaguely and muttered:

‘Beg your pardon, I guess I—I feel
queer. My head is all dizzy.”

‘*T don’t doubt it!’ snapped the first
lieutenant. ‘‘You have made a_ beast of
yourself. This is intolerable.’

‘*Doctor, examine him,’’ said the cap-
tain, curtly.

The surgeon placed his head close to
Clif’s mouth, examined his pulse and
eyes, then reported briefly :

‘*He is certainly under the influence of
some strong ee Dut icant detect
any odor of hodor 7

Captain Brooks turned to the executive
officer, and said:

“Place all of them under close arrest.
See that they do not——’’

He was interrupted by a faint knocking
under his feet. A couple of planks were
lifted and Judson Greene, perspiring and
miserable, was lifted into view.

‘The rope and gag removed, he explained
that he had been brutally set upon by
Faraday aud the other. plebes, aud
thrown under the stage.

Just as he concluded his doleful tale,
the surgeon, who had been poking
about, discovered the pail which had con-
tained the lemonade. A few cupsful still
remained in the bottom.

‘*What’s this?’’ he exclaimed, excited-
ly. “tum! traces of chloral, and cin,
and beer. Yegods! what a combination!
I must test the devilish mixture. Hum!
no wonder the lads went crazy. Cap-
tain!”

‘That officer hastily joined | nim, Held-
ing the pail at arm’s length, much as if
it were a charge of dynamite, the surgeon
continued :

‘‘Here’s the solution to the secret, sir.
I can see it plainly. It’s a trick, a das-
tardly trick to disgrace these poor lads. ’’

(The worthy surgeon was not a grad-
uate of the Academy, had not been an up-

 
ee TG

per classman, therefore he could feel for
the ‘‘miserable plebes.’?)

‘You say the lemonade has been

drugged?’ asked the captain, incredu-

lously.

‘Undoubtedly. Just smell this peculiar
odor. Can’t you trace the characteristic
scents of gin and chloral ?”’

The captain could not, but he was will-
ing to believe the surgeon, knowing that
he was a very capable man who had
made a hobby of drugs and narcotics.

‘If that is true it certainly alters the
case,’’? he said, reflectively, glancing at
the members of the late ‘‘Naval Academy
Plebe Troupe,’’ who were either asleep
or showing every indication of becoming
so, with the exception of Clif.

The latter was evidently making a des-
perate effort to throw off the effect of the
drugs. His eyes were brightening, and he
stood erect.

**Just take them to the sick bay, doc-
tor, and keep them there until morning.
| Pll hold a strict investigation then,’’
said Captain Brooks.

Clif attempted to speak, but the kind-
hearted officer told him to keep his story
Unni tye next day. “The troupe’ was
escorted by the master-at-arms and assis-
tants to the surgeon’s quarters and a num-
ber of the crew placed at working clear-
ing away the stage.

It was some time after pipe down be-
fore the excitement died out. Ferguson,
Bryce and several others in the secret,
‘discussed the affair rather gloomily. They
were not afraid of discovery, as they felt
assured neither Clif nor the others con-

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

cerned would turn informer; but they
were disappointed at the outcome of the
plot.
Ferguson voiced the sentiments of his
companions when he said with emphasis:
‘I wish that confounded saw-bones
had kept his poky nose out of that pail.
If he hadn’t smelled the gin and stuff’
we’d had Faraday dead to rights. As it is
now, they’ll clear him and shelve the.
affair among the other hazing mysteries.’
And that is just what happened. Cap-
tain Brooks held a consultation with the
executive officer and surgeon; sent for
Clif and asked him a few.quetions which
the lad cleverly evaded, then the affair
was dropped.
The gallant commander had passed

-through the mill himself, so to speak,

and he had no intention of pressing the
matter. For which all concerned were
truly thankful.

For several days Clif and his fellow
plebes were compelled to endure many
sly allusions to their escapade.

Upper class cadets would give elaborate
imitations of the various stages of intoxi- -
cation on seeing them; and cadet. corpo-
rals would speak thickly when giving
orders.

To all of which Clif would grimly com-
press his lips and nod his head as if inti- -
mating that the war was not yet over.

[THE END. ]

The next Naval Academy novelette, by
Ensign Clarke Fitch, will be entitled,
““Cht  Paraday’s Hazard: a= “Practice:
Cruise Incident.’

 
 

GO

A West Point Hop;

Bw Lieut.

Mark Mallory’s Determination,

BRrederick Garrison, U.S. A.

 

CHAP PER «I.
A PLOT OF THE YEARLINGS.

‘‘An invitation! Why, surely, man,
you must be mistaken. They never invite
plebes to the hops.”’

The speaker was a tall, athletic-looking
lad, wearing the uniform of a West Point

cadet. He was sitting with a book in
his hand beneath the shade trees at one

side of the summer encampment of the
corps. Atthat moment he was looking
up from the book at another cadet, who
had just approached him.

‘‘An invitation !’’ he repeated.
hardly believe it possible. ’’

‘Perhaps if you see it you’l] believe it
more readily, ye know,’’ remarked the
other.

He was a slightly built chap, witha
rather dudish stoop to his shoulders, and
a still more dudish accent to his voice.
As he spoke he held out an envelope to
his friend.

‘‘Seeing’s believing, they say,’’ laughed
the latter, taking it and glancing at the
address. ‘‘Mr. Chauncey Van Renssalaer
Mount-Bonsall,’’? he read. ‘‘Yes, I guess
that’s for you. I don’t believe there are
two persons on earth with that name, or
with one so altogether aristocratic and
impressive.’

The tall cadet was glancing at the
_ other otit of the corner of his eye with a

‘*T can

rougish look as he said that. Hesawa
rather pleased expression sweep over his
face and knew that he had touched his
friend Chauncey in his weak spot. Mark
Mallory, the other cadet, had been tre-
moving the contents of the envelope as
he spoke. He found a square card, hand-
somely engraved; and he read it with a
look of amazement upon his face—amaze-
ment which the other noticed with evi-
dent pleasure.

The card had the words ‘‘Camp Mc-
Pherson’’ over the top, and below in a
monogram “U. $. C..C.,”’ (United States
Cadet Corps). At one side was a view of
the camp, the Highlands of the Hudson
in the distance. And in the centre were
the words that had caused all the surprise:

‘*The pleasure of your company is re-
quested at the hops to be given by the
Corps of Cadets every Monday, Wednesday
and Friday evening during the encamp-
ment.

West Point, Nv.
July 6, 18—.”?

That was all, except for the list of

‘fhop managers’? below. But such as it
was, it was enough to cause Mark Mallory
no end of perplexity.

‘fA plebe invited to the hop,’’ he mut-
tered. «‘‘I can ,hardly believe it yet.
There must be some mistake surely.
Why, man, no plebe has ever danced ata
hop in all West Point’s history. They

net?

 
878

_ scarcely know there are such things. Just
think of it once—we miserable beasts who
hardly dare raise our heads, and who
have to obey every one on earth!”’

‘Weve raised our heads pretty well,
bah Jove,’ drawled the other.  ‘‘And
we've shown ourselves a detuced bit
livelier than the yearlings,
know.’’

“Ves, but we’ve only done that by
force. We've licked them and outwitted
them at every turn, something no plebes
have ever dared to do before.

don’t: ye

But simply
because we’ve made them recognize our
rights that way is no reason why they
should ask one of us to a hop.’’

‘No,’ responded Chauncey, “‘it isn’t.
But I know what is.”’

What ???

“Pwve a cousin in New York by the
name of Sturtevant—deuced aristocratic
folks are the Sturtevants! Ewer hear of
the Sturtevants of New York ?”?

‘“Hr—yes,’? responded Mark, that same
sly look in his eyes again. ‘‘I’ve heard of
them very often. ‘They are related to the
Smiths, aren’t they ??’

“Well, not that I know of, bah Jove—
but come to think of it, my second cousin
was a Sturtevant and she married one of
de Smythes, if that’s who you’re think-
ing of,”’

‘‘T ouess that’s it,’? said Mark, solemn-
ly. ‘‘Let it go at that, anyway. But
what have the Sturtevants, the Sturte-
vants of New York, got to do with a
West Point hop?” )

‘It’s simply that this cousin of mine,
ye know, has a friend up here, a first class
man, au adjutant or sergeant quarter-
master, or some such deuced animal, I
forget just what, bah Jove! Anyway, I’ve
an idea he got me the inivtation.”’

Mark. let himself down to the ground
on his back and lay there for a few mo-
ments after his friend’s ‘‘explanation,”’
while he thought over it and incidentally
kicked a tree trunk forexercise. Chauncey

ARMY; AND NAVY WEEKLY.

waited anxiously, wondering what sort of

an effect his announcement of his in-

fluential friends would have upon Mark.
“Those yearlings,’ began the latter at

last, in a meditative, half soliloquizing

tone, ‘‘have never yet lost an opportunity
to annoy us. Ever since we unfortunate
plebes dared to raise our heads and resist
their hazing, ever since the Seven Devils
got together and organized to retaliate,
they have tired every method that ingen-
uity could suggest to make us regret our
course. Me, as leader of the Seven Devils,
they ‘tned to whip in a fair tome
and they failed. Then they tried to kid-
nap me and torture me into subimission.
When I went on sentry duty they at-
tempted to dump me into a ditch. They
have tried other tricks; it would take

hours to tell of them all. They have

failed, thanks to the aid of you, Chauncey,
and the rest of our secret society.’’

Here Chauncey bowed with a bow that
would have turned the bones of Lord
Chesterfield green with envy.
continued Mark.
‘CMhey have tried to outwit all the rest of
us. Our lanky and learned Boston friend,
the Parson, they tied.in a sack and
dragged around; poor Joseph Smith, the
fat boy of Indianapolis, they have tor-
tured in a thousand ways. Only the day
before yesterday, they scared him to
death while he was on sentry duty; be-
fore that they tied him to a tree to
burn him, like an Indianapolis Indian,
and——’?

“And not ionly me,’’

‘‘What’s this got to do with the hop, :
bah Jove??? interrupted Chauncey.

“Tots. It’s simply this. You have
been just as fresh as any of us, Chauncey.
With all your aristocratic blood, ye know.
Isaw you nearly whip half a dozen of
them one day when they wouldn’t
stop hazing Indian.” |

‘I didn’t whip them, bah Jeve,?’ be-
gan Chauncey, modestly.

‘Well, anyhow, they couldn’t whip

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

you, and so it was all the same. The
point is that they have never done any-
thing to be revenged for the insult. I
have an idea that this may be an
attempt. ”’

‘“This!?? echoed the other in surprise.
*Fray ttow?’’

‘Simply that they’d. like to, see you

come to the hop and have nobody to.

dance with (for no girl will dance with a
plebe, ye know, I don’t care who he is)
and so have to go home feeling pretty
cheap. Then you’d be the laughing stock
of the corps, as the plebe who wanted to
dance at the hop.”’

It was Chauncey’s turn to be thought-
ful then. And to his credit be it said that
he recognized the truth there was in
Mark’s explanation of that surprising
eard. For Chauncey was no fool, even if
he was dudish and aristocratic.

‘Tm afraid that’s it,’ said he. ‘‘I’m
~deuced glad I thought of asking you,
Mark, ye know. [Pll not go to-night.
And we’ll let the matter drop, bah Jove..”’

“(Let it drop!’’ echoed Mark; and then
he added, with emphais, ‘‘Not much!’

‘Wihrat’ kl ye dor’*

“Do? What's the use of having a
secret society for the purpose of avenging
insults, if you don’t avenge ’em? And
don’t you call it an insult that the yearl-
ings should suppose us big enough fools
to take that bait and go to their old
mop.’

“Tt was rather insulting,’’ adniitted
Chauncey. :

‘it wae. said Mark: ‘‘And. what's
more, I move that we retaliate this very
day. Let’s go up.and find the rest of the
Seven, and by Jingo, perhaps we’ll bust
up their plaguey old hop!”’

With which words Mark slammed _ his
book to and rose to his feet and set out in
a hurry for camp.

CHAP THR « Ff,

THE, SEVEN DEVILS CONSULT.

Mark Mallory was a Colorado boy, who
had. come to West Point with the new
plebe class a month or so ago. ‘The first
day he had the misfortune to incur the
enmity of a certain ‘“‘Bull’’ Harris, a
member of the yearling clags, a rather
Jow-minded person who stopped at no
trick, however cowardly. The result had

879

been that Mark’s life, from that day had
been an uninterrupted tale of hazing and
torment. Goaded to desperation, he and
some friends had finally banded together
to protect themselves.

They had done it with a vengeance.
As Mark had said, they had outwitted
and walloped the yearlings at every turn.
And in fact they had gotten so used to
being B. J., which is West Point slang for
‘fresh’? (**before June’’), that they had
rather come to like it. They had even
gone so far as to haze the yearlings, and
at present they had no higher ambition
in life than to think up clever schemes
for tormenting their enemies.

That was why, at the present moment,
Mark was vowing with so much deter-
mination that this last ‘‘insuit’’ must be
avenged, and that was why he was hurry-
ing over to camp in such glee to firrd the
rest of his friends and to talk over “‘ways
and means.’’ It was as Mark saw a splen-
did chance for some fun.

They entered Camp McPherson, which
was the name of the encampment for
that year, and hurried up the A Company
‘street?’ to their own tent. They entered
without ceremony, and Mark scarcely
waited to greet the rest before he plunged
right into ‘the subject in hand.

““Rellows, ”’ he said, ‘‘the yearlings
have tried a new trick on ‘us; and
Chauncey and I have vowed to get square
night.on,.”’

There were three cadets in the tent, all
of them plebes, and all of them clad, as
was Mark, in the gray fatigue uniform.
The effect of their friend “and leader’s
announcement was different upon each,
and interesting in all] cases.

First there was Texas, the same old
jolly Texas, wild and woolly as ever, but
just a trifle meeker since his adventures
of a- few days before. ‘Texas was, as he
introduced himself to the surprised yearl-
ings, ‘‘Jeremiah Powers, sali, son o’ the
Hon. Scrap Powers, 0’ Hurricane County,
Texas.’’ He had been a cowboy but a few
weeks ago, and the other day he had been
seized with a wild longing for his usual
cowboy amusement, had filled himself
full of cowboy whiskey, leaped upon a
horse—and finally wound up by riding
into town at full tilt and ‘‘holding up”’
the whole cadet corps during artillery

 
0 ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

drill. He had caused a run-away and had
been saved from instant death only by the
courage and promptness of his friend,
Mark Mallory. Mark had subsequently
pleaded with the superintendent, and
Texas had secured another chance, had
‘‘sworn off?’ for eternity and sworn yet
more faithful devotion to his chum and
rescuer, whoin he fairly worshipped.

The effect that Mark’s announcement
had upon Texas. any one of our readers
might have guessed. ‘Texas sprang up
with a whoop that scared the sentry on
the path nearby, and a ‘‘Durnation”’
scarcely less voluble. He demanded to
know what was up instanter, and danced
about anxiously until he managed to
learn; when he did learn he was more-ex-
cited still.

Another of our friends, a member of
the Seven Devils, was-‘‘Parsons’’ Stan-
ard, the geological genius from Boston.
The Parson was an imitation of a human
skeleton, with bones that stuck o1.t at
all inconceivable angles, made evident by
the tight uniform he wore. ‘Ihe Parson
had discarded his. long black coat tails
with the pockets for the geologist’s ham-
mer, but he still clung to his pale, sea-
green socks, and to his beloved volume of
Dana’s Geology, from which he drew im-
mense stores of Jong-named learning, and
distributed it free of charge among his
fellow members. The Parson had dis-
covered a wondrous ‘‘fossil’’ the very first
day he struck West Point, and he had
cherished it anda hope of immortality
because of it ever since. It was a Cyatho-
phylloid coral, found in ‘‘a sandstone of
tertiary origin,’’ where, so the Parson
said, such a specimen had never been
known before.

The Parson forgot his fossils, however,
and even his Dana when he heard Mark’s
news, and he rose up and stretched his
long, bony arms, inquiring with almost
as inuch anxiety as Texas. In fact, the
only one of the three who was not ex-
cited was ‘‘Sleepy,’’ the farmer from
Kansas, who was too tired or lazy to get
excited about anything, or todo much
else but rest. His state was that of the
tramp who answered: ‘‘Why did you
come here?’’ ‘‘To rest.’’ ‘*‘What made
you tired ?’’:.“*Gittim’® here,’

The two other members of the Seven

Devils popped into the tent just then.
They were the fat and gullable ‘‘Indian,’’
Joe Smith, whom the yearlings had hazed
without mercy, and the handsome and
merry Dewey, with his ‘‘B’gees’’ and his
long strings of stories, Dewey whom the
yeatlings had tried to haze to their very
great discomfort.

Mark sat down and told them all of the
yearlings’ plan, as soon as he could man-
age to get the excitable ‘Texas quiet
enough. He passed round the invitation,
which the rest stared at as incredulously
as Mark had; and then he offered his ex-
planation; and finding that they all
seemed to agree with him, stated his pur-
pose to retaliate, with which they agreed
still more.

‘‘Durnation, yes!’’ cried Texas. ‘‘Come
on, let’s do.it..-Let’s ‘bust up their ole
hop! Let’s raise a rumpus an’ scare ’em
to death! What d’ye say?”’

**T don’t think we had better do that, x
responded Mark, laughing. “Whatever
trick we play has got to have something
to do with hop, so as to let them know
why we did it. But we broke up one
entertainment not a week ago when we
spoiled Bill Harris’s Fourth of July ora-
tion by firing off a lot of cannon outside.
I think it had better bea quiet trick on
some of them, for you know they say
that a man may play the same trick once
too often.”’

‘* Let's hold
band,’ suggested ‘Texas, ‘tan’ run
into the woods an’ ‘hide ’em.”?

‘Or else,’’? laughed Mark, ‘‘we might
dress up in the band players uniforms and
go in and play hymns for ’em. But I
think somebody ought to suggest some-
thing that’s possible.’’

“Lets put glue on the floor,’’ hinted
Indian.

“Let’s dress up as gitls and ao,
jaughed Dewey.

‘‘Or make the Parson put in some of
his chemicals, ye know, an’ smoke ’em
all out, bah Jove,’’ put in Chauncey.

**B’gee!’? cried Dewey. ‘‘That reminds —
me of another story. You fellows needn’t |
groan,’’ he added, ‘‘because this is a
good one. And I’m going to tell it
whether you like it or not. It’s true,-
too. There was an old professor of chem-
istry gave a lecture, and there were whole

up their durnation. ole

em

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. 881

lots of ladies present. We might work
this trick some time. A good many of
the complexions of those ladies weren’t
very genuine, b’gee, and not warranted
to wear. And some of the chemicals the
professor mixed madea gas that turned
’em all blue!’

Dewey breathed a sigh of relief at
having been allowed to deliver himself of
a whole story without interruption; and

 

lecture until he’ll have time to finish it.”’

The Parson halted with an aggrieved
look upon his face; and after remarking
the surprising lack of interest in so fasci-
nating a subject as chemistry, buried
himself in silence and Dana’s Geology.

It seems: to me.?’: continued (Mark
after a few minutes’ pause, ‘‘that we
haven’t gotten very far in our planning.
Now I have an idea.”?

 

'

 

**AN INVITATION! WHY, MAN, YOU MUST BE MISTAKEN. THEY NEVER INVITE PLEBES TO THE HOPS.’? (page 877).

the Parson
solemn ‘‘ahem!??

‘“The chemicals to which you refer,”’
he began, ‘‘were probably a mixture of
hydrofluosilicic acid with bitartrate of
potassium and deflagisticated oxygen,
which produces by precipitation and
reduction a vapotous oxide of silicate of
potassium and combines——”’?

‘“We’ve only half an hour left before
drill,’? interrupted Mark solemnly. ‘‘I
move that the Parson discontinue his

cleared his throat with a _

The effect was that of a rainbow burst-
ing through a storm cloud. ‘The Seven
were all smiles in an instant, and the
Parson came out of his shell cnce more
and leaned forward with interest.

“"Whatis it?’?, he cried.

Mit won't take Jong.” said Mark. “tg
fel ite. You may 'notiiike it: Ue) take
lots of planning beforehand if we do try
it, . It seems tome that the yearlings
have set a trap for us, and want us to
walk into it. Now, I think we might bid

 
882

them defiance, and show how little we
care for them, by going in right boldly
and outwitting them in their own coun-
try, that’s theplen.”

‘The six stared at him in amazement.

‘*Vou don’t mean,’ cried Dewey, ‘‘that
Chauncey ought to go to the hop???’

‘Phat’s just exactly what I mean,*’
was the answer. ‘‘And I mean, more-
over, that we ought every one of us to go
with him.”’

‘‘But nobody’ll dance with us, man!’’

‘They won't? That’s just exactly the
part we ought to fix. “Grace Fuller will,
for one, I’m sure. And I’m also sure she
ean find other girls who will. What do
you say ?”’

They scarcely knew what tosay. The
proposition was so bizarre, so altogether
startling. Plebes go to the hop! Why,
the thought was enough to take a man’s
breath away. No plebe had ever dared to
do such a thing in West Point’s history.
One might almost as well think of a
plebe’s becoming acaptain! And here was
Mark seriously proposing it!

‘They

They had a perfect right to go.
had an invitation, and no ore could ask

for more. But the freezing glances they
would get fronrevery one! The stares,
and perhaps insults from the cadets!
Still, as Mark said, suppose Grace Fuller,
the belle of West Point, danced ‘with
them? Suppose all the girls did? Sup-
pose, swept away by the fun of ‘‘jolly-
ing’? the yearlings, the girls should even
prefer plebes. Ye gods! The more you
thought over that scheme the better you
liked it. It’s possibilities were so bound-
less, so awe-inspiring! And suddenly
Master Dewey leaped up with an excited
ee ee

“(Pm one!’ he cried. {P11 so you!’

‘Darnation!’ reared ‘Texas, Me
too!’

And in a few moments more those
seven B. J. plebes had vowed by all that
was holy to dance at the hop that night
ifit was the last thing they ever did on
this earth.

“(By George!’ cried Mark, as they
finished, leaping up and seizing his hat,
“Tm going over and see Grace Fuller
about it now! Just you wait!’

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

CHAPTERR: T11;
IN WHICH THE PLEBES PLOT TOO.

Grace Fuller was the daughter of Judge
Fuller, whose country seat lay just across
the river from West Point. Miss Fuller
was at present staying at the hotel at the
post, until she was thoroughly recovered
from the effects of a serious accident.

The girl had been overtaken by athun-
derstorm while sailing along ina cat-boat.
From her dangerous position Mark Mal-
lory had réscued her by an act of daring
such as the cadets had never seen before.
Exhausted by a long swimming race with
a champion of the first class, he had
nevertheless swam out to the _ boat,
climbed aboard, and returned with the
unconscious girl, to faint from exhaus-
tion himself when it was over.

This act Grace Fuller had never for-
gotten, and she vowed that she never
would. Her regard for Mark as her hero
was already the subject of much good-
natured comment from the Seven.

Miss Fuller was considered the most
beautiful girl about the post; she was
undoubtedly the belle of it, and ‘‘had half
the cadets in the place at her feet.”? But
she was weary of the yearlings and their
pompousness, and their well meant, but
tiresome gallantry. She was drawn to
Mark by his heroism and by his daring
in opposing his powerful, his hitherto |
omnipotent tormentors. She sympathized .
with his efforts none the less because he
was a ‘‘plebe,’’ supposed and intended to
be the inferior of every one.

Then Mark had told her of the Seven
Devils; she, with a girlish love of fun
and mischief, had vowed her intention to
join. The title had been changed to
‘‘Seven Devils and One Angel,’’ and
Grace Fuller, being by this time thor-
oughly in the spirit of the thing, was
lending aid and counsel with avidity.

That was why Mark knew that Grace
for one would dance with him. And that
was why he was hurrying off now in such
glee to concoct a plot with her. .

He found the'object of his search ou
the hotel piazza, looking as beautiful and
attractive as his mind could imagine. As
it proved, she was fully.as anxious to see
him as he was to see her; she was curious
to hear about ‘‘’‘Texas.”’

‘‘So he has promised never to do it

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

again!’ she said, when Mark had _ told
her ol, 3) Powers’) ““teforimation.2. (°1
thought he would do anything for you.
Poor Texas. fairly worships the ground
you walk on.’’

‘*Fle has promised never to drink, any-
how,’’ responded Mark. ‘‘It was very
funny to see how long it took him to get
the idea into his head that it was wrong.
It’s just as I told you, and as I told the
superintendent, too, down where he
comes from it’s the custom when a man
wants to have fun he drinks all the
whisky he can to start him. And Texas
thought he’d try it up here.”’

‘*He certainly did have fun,’’ exclaimed
the girl, breaking into one of her merry
laughs at the recollection of the scene.

‘I had been having a pretty exciting
time myself,’’ he. said, ‘‘trying to keep
Texas quiet. And when those huge
horses took fright and started to dash
into the crowd, I had still more of it.”’

‘Tl think you were perfectly splendid!’
eried the girl, clasping her hands in
alarm even as she thought of the occur-
rence. ‘‘When you came dashing down

on your horse and sprang in to head
them off, my heart fairly stopped beating.
But I knew you would do it; I have
always said you would never stop at any

danger, and
too.”’

There was a moment’s silence after
that; and then Mark, who was anxious
to get at the important business of the
morning, thought it a good time to begin.

‘‘Yve something more interesting to
discuss, anyway,’’ he added. ‘‘And I’ve
only a very few minutes before drill in
which to talk it over with you. Ive
taken the trouble to get a permit from
headquarters and all to run over and ask
you, so you musn’t delay me by compli-
ments. That’s my province, anyway—
and duty.’’

‘“That was a very neat one,’’. laughed
Grace Fuller. ‘‘I declare, you are quite a
cavalier. But excuse me for wasting the
valuable time of the house. What is the
matter ?’’

“*T’ve a scheme,’’ responded Mark.

The girl lost all her bantering manner
in a-~moment; she saw the twinkle in
Mark’s eye, and knew that some fun was
coming. |

father agrees with me,

a

883

‘Ts this another plan for worrying the
unfortunate yearlings??? she inquired.

It is?" said’. he;
think up any other kind of plans just at
present. You see they get up so manty
against me that Iam busy all the time
holding up my end. If it were not for
your aid I am afraid I should have failed
before this.’

‘(Have they prepared a new one.
already ?”’

By way of answer Mark took out the
‘finvitation.””

‘Read that?’ he said; “‘and see”?
Grace took it and glanced at it, a look
of surprise spreading over her face.

“‘Why, | have one just like it!) she
cried. ‘‘But where en earth did you get
this???

‘Tt was sent to our friend Chauncey,”’
answeted the plebe. ‘‘ You see the yearl-
ings thought he would take the bait and
come; being rather weak on the point of —
his aristocracy, he was supposed to fall
right into the trap and consider it a
recognition of his social rank. Then
when he came he’d have no one to dance
with, and would be a laughing stock
generally.’

**T see,” said. the girl. ‘‘Ilt was a nree
tribute to our common sense. ”’

‘‘Ours!’? laughed Mark. ‘‘’I‘he yearl-
ings have small idea that you are sym-
pathizing with the plebes.’’

‘*Well, 1am,’’ vowed the other. ‘With
you, anyway, and Ido not care in the
least how soon they know it. I told
father, and he said I was quite right. I
don’t like hazing.”

‘“You may have a chance to let them
know it publicly very soon,’’ responded
Mark, gazing at her sweet face gratefully.
‘“That’s what I came over to. see you
about. You see we want to accept the
invitation.’’

“Accept it! Why, that would be walk-
ing right into the trap!”

‘““That’s just exactly what I mean to
do. Only Imean to put a hole in the
other side first, so that I can walk out
again and run off with traps and trappers
and trappings and all.”’

‘‘ How do you mean???

“You -are not as acute as aisual;”’

laughed Mark. ‘‘I hadexpectedthat bythis. 4

time you would have guessed the secret.’”

4

 

‘‘Pve no time to...
aod

884

‘Vou don’t mean to go and dance!”’

‘(Rxactly,’? said Mark. - :

Grace Fuller glanced at him in horror
for a moment, and then as she saw his
merry eyes twinkle a vague idea of what he
meant began to occur to her. She began
to see the possibilities of the affair, just as
Mark had seen them. He might get all
the girls to dance with him; he might
have the yearlings perfectly furious,
taving; he might dump West Point
traditions all at once, all ina heap, and
with a dull, sickening thud at that.

As she began to realize all this, Mark
was gazing into her eyes; he saw them
begin to dance and twinkle just as his
had. And he laughed softly to himself.

“Our angel has, not failed us,’ he
whispered. ‘‘I knew she would not. Will
you help us???

And Grace answered simply that she
would. But she set her teeth together
with a snap that meant much.

It meant that Mark Mallory was to be
the first plebe ever to dance at a West
Point Hop.

CHAPTER TV,

SETTING THE TRAP.

The dinner hour had passed. Likewise
the second policing of the day had been
attended to by the humble plebes. The
afternoon’s drill was over; it was time
for full dress parade.

Company streets were alive with bust-
ling cadets. Officers were winding them-
selves into their red sashes, privates were
giving the last polishing touches to spot-
lessly shining guns. And the plebes,
lonely and disconsolate, were watching
the preparations for the ceremony and
wondering if the time really would ever
come when they too might be esteemed
handsome enough to be put on parade.

There was one plebe, however, to
whom no such foolish idea occurred. For
indeed, he was quite convinced that he
was better looking’ in his new uniform
than most of them, and a great deal more
aristocratic than all. He was, at the mo-
iment we stole in upon his thoughts,
marching with much dignity down the
street of Company B.

He carried his hands at his sides,
_‘yalms to the front, little fingers on the
seams of the trousers,’’ as plebes used to

- ARMY AND NAVY WEBEELY.

be obliged to do whenever they walked
about in public. But eves with all that
stiff and awkward pose he could not lose
the characteristic dudish ‘‘ Fifth Avenue’’
gait without which our friend Chauncey
would not have been himself.

For it was Chauncey, and he was bound
upon an allimportant duty.
He stopped at one of the tents; there
was only one occupant in it, a yearling,
a red-headed, hot-tempered looking chap,
with a turned-up nose and a wealth of
freckles, Corporal Spencer, known to his

classmates as ‘‘Chick.’’

Master Chauncey Van _ Rensselaer
Mount-Bonsall stood in the doorway and
bowed with his most genteel, perfect and
inimitable bow. He would have knocked
had he seen anything but canvas to knock
on.

‘Mr. Spencer?’’ he inquired.

The yearling stared at the plebe in
amazement; but Chauncey’s politeness
and urbanity were contagious, and Cor-
poral Spencer could not help bowing,
too.

‘“May I have the privilege of a few
moments’ conversation with you?’ the
plebe next inquired.

‘‘Ahem!’? said Mr. Spencer.
er—I suppose so.”’

‘‘Corporal Spencer, Ihave a favor to
ask of you, don’t cher know, bah Jove!’

Corporal Spencer was silent.

‘‘T do not know why I should look to
you for it, except—aw—ye know, you
were my drill master, and so I look to
you as my superior, my guardian, so to
speak.”’

‘Thats a little taffy for him,’’ Chaun-
cey added (to himself). ‘*Bah Jove, I
think the deuced idiot has taken the
Date

The plebe lost no time in taking ad-
vantage of his opportunity; he opened
an envelope he heid in his hand.

‘‘T received to-day,’? he began, ‘‘a
card, ye know, an invitation to the hop.».
I do not know who sent it, bah Jove, but —
I’m deuced grateful, for I’m awfully fond
of dawncing. Ineed scarcely tell you
that I shall hasten to accept it, don’t cher
know.”?

The look of delight which spread over
the yearling’s face was not lost upon the
plebe.

“Why—

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

‘So the idiot is going to fall into the
trap,’’ thought the former.

“So the idiot thinks I’m idiot enough
to be fooled,’’ thought Chauncey.

Chauncey continued, delighted with
his success, no less than the corporal was
with his supposed one.

‘‘Now, I have two friends,’’ he said,
‘‘plebes, don’t cher know, who are deuced
anxious to come with me. And I wanted
to awsk you, bah Jove, if you could get
me two invitations. I know it is a great
deal for one to do for a plebe, but——”’

Corporal, Spencer was in such a hurry
to assent that he could not wait for the
plebe to finish.

(Not at alll’? he .cried.. ‘SNot at all!
Why, I shall be most happy to do it for
you, Mr. Mount-Bonsall. Really, it isa
very small favor, for I have plenty of
invitations at my disposal. Wait just one
moment, and you shall have them. ‘The
yearling class will be delighted to—ahem
—welcome your two friends.’

A minute or two later Master Chaun-
cey’s Fifth avenue gait was carrying him
swiftly up the street again, with two
more of the much coveted invitations in
his hand. And Chick Spencer was rush-
ing into another tent to seize his friend
Corporal Jasper wildly by the arm.

‘What do you think? What do you
Mere fhe cried, ‘“URer plebes are
coming to the hop!”’

‘‘What! Why!’

‘That fool dude has fallen into the trap!
He’s coming to dance, and bring two
more plebes with him. Oh, say, oh say!”’

The whole yearling class knew of it a
few moments later when the companies
fell in for parade. And the wildest hilar-
ity resulted.

‘A plebe at the hop! A plebe at the
hop!’? was the cry. ‘‘A plebe without a
soul to dance with him! Oh, but won’t
there be fun.’’

There was indeed to be fun; the yearl-
ings would have thought so if they could
have seen Chauncey and read_ his
thoughts. Oh, yes, there was fun.

But the question was, who was to
enjoy it?

Chauncey, when he reached his own
tent, found Mark standing in front of it;
and Mark was dancing about with excite-
ment, too.

885

‘(Did you get them?” he cried.

‘‘Ves, I did, ye know, and—where are
you going???

Mark had started hastily down the
street. He stopped long enough to shove
a note into his friend’s hand and give a
warning word as to secrecy; then he
turned and was gone.

‘Read it! Read it!’? was echoing in
Chauncey’s ears.

He did; and this was what he read:

“Dear Mr. Mallory: Iam writing this
in great haste. Come over to see me at
once; things are coming out beautifully.
Did you get the extra invitations?

‘*VYour friend,
‘(Grace Hulten?

And Chauncey nodded his head in de-
light, gave vent to an extra ‘‘bah Jove,”?
and then dived into his tent to talk it
over with the others.

What the others had to say is of little
moment; the all important person was
Mark, and Mark was hurrying over to
the hotel, keeping step to the tune of the
band that was just then marching across
the parade ground at the head of the
battalion.

He found ‘‘the angel’’ waiting for him.

‘‘Vou got the invitations??? she in-
quired.

‘Ves, Chauncey did,’’ responded the
other, laughing.

“‘T told you,’’ said the girl, ‘‘that Cor-
potal Spencer would doit. I knew his
handwriting on the envelope at once, and
I was sure that he was in the plot to fool
Mr. Chauncey. And I’d just love to out-
wit him, too.”’

“Vou say you were successful??? in-
quired Mark.

For answer Grace Fuller presented
three dance cards, at which Mark glanced
with amazement and delight indescrib-
able.

‘Why, full? che. ered.
some one for every

they’re
‘“You’ve gotten
dance !””

‘(Ves,’’ said she, laughing gleefully as
she went over the names with him. ‘‘I
put your names over the top, you and Mr,
Dewey and Mr. Chauncey—that last name

of his is too long to say. And I could
have filled a dozen just as well, only you
said that you three were the only ones
who cared for dancing. I hope you al!

 
586

dance well. Mr. Dewey looks as if he
might; and our Fifth avenue friend I’m
stire is a perfect sylph. I think you do
everything gracefully.’

‘I hope you have a charice to find
out,’’ laughed Mark. ‘‘I hope you have
put yourself down on my card.”’

‘‘T have put you down for the very first
dance,’’ said she, simply. ‘‘You told me
to fix it all the way I liked.”’

‘‘But who are the other girls?’? in-
quired Mark. ‘‘I haven’t met any. of
them?’

‘You will in plenty of time. I’1] intro-
duce you to them, They’re all friends of
mine; you see, I know nearly every one
about the post. And I’ve picked all the
very prettiest and nicest girls of them
all, too.’’

‘‘And arranged them in order of
merit,’? added Mark, slyly glancing. at
his own card, whereat the girl shook her
fan at him.

**But tell me,’’ he continued, in per-
plexity, after a few moments’ pause,
‘“‘how did you ever manage to get so
many girls into the conspiracy. Why, I

had no idea that one tenth as many cared
anything about plebes.”’

‘‘T used a little diplomacy,’’ laughed
Grace. ‘‘I made myself as charming as I
could. I found two, three in fact, whose
brothers are plebes, and one whose
brother will be next year. I think most
of the girls really sympathize with the
plebes, and then, too, I’m sure all of
them like to tease. Did you ever know
one who did not? And this will make
the yearlings fairly wild. But the chief
reason I urged I can’t tell to you; you
wouldn’t like it.”

‘Why not?”

**It would make you conceited, as you
say. You must know—you ought to if
you don’t—that you’re a regular hero
among West: Point girls. In the first
place, every one knows how you saved
me; and then all of them saw you the
other day stop that runaway. You’re
famous, besides, as the boldest plebe that
ever came here; the yearlings are the
laughing stock of the place because of
you. And that makes you a sort of
romantic creature, a Sir Galahad in dis-
oulse. To dance with you is a whole
fairy tale.’

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

Mark laughed heartily over this de-
scription, which he chose to consider ex-
agegerated. But whatever might be the
cause of Grace Fuller’s success, he was
heartily and undisguisedly delighted at
the success itself. Here were three dance
cards, one for each of the conspirators;
and all of them were full, which meant
that there were a score or more of girls
who had pledged themselves to join in
that plot.

It was a triumph indeed, and Mark
thanked the ‘‘angel’’ for it most heartily.
And when he left the hotel and hurried
over to camp again, his chuckles of de-
light were audible and numerous.

CHAPTER  V.
AEB, Raa WILE OH ee AE Te

Every one goes to hops promptly on
time at West Point. In select society it
is the thing nowadays to go late every-
where, so Chauncey assured his friends.
But at the Academy relentléss tattoo
sounds on hop-nights at half-past nine as
usual. The cadets have to be in line at
camp five minutes later. And so, anxious
to dance all they can, everybody who in-
tends to dance is on hand by the hour of
eight.

The dances were held, in Mark’s day,
in the Academy Building, in two big
rooms on the second floor. ‘Those rooms
are used as examination rooms; luckless
and frightened candidates were sent there
to show what they do not know. ‘This
evening, however, it was gay and festive.

The West Point Military Band, in full
plumage, occupied a small platform and
dispensed an overture previous to the first
waltz. The walls were gay with flags and
an abundance of decorations in general.
And the floor and seats about the room
were still more beautifully adorned.

A person who ‘‘knew the ropes,’’ who
was familiar with hops and hop ways,
would not have failed to notice that there
was something unusual going on that
night, that everybody seemed to be wait-
ing for something. Cadets, talking to
damsels could not keep their eyes from
straying to the doorway, while at the
doorway sauntered about, waiting, a con-
siderable group of anxious cadets. There
was one thought in the minds of all of
them.

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

‘Will they come?
come ??”?

And then, suddenly, a ripple of excite-
ment ran around the room; cadets
crowded to the doorway, girls strained
their necks to get a view, the leader of
the band in all his finery nearly let his
orchestra tun wild in his interest. And
across the floor rushed Corporal Spencer,
hop manager, and grasped his friend
Jasper by the arm.

‘‘They’re here! They’re here, man!’
he gasped. ‘‘Oh, say!”

And the next instant the band master
waved his baton, the music crashed all
at once, and the first dance was begun.

A dance with plebes at it!

To say that the three, Mark, Chauncey
‘fand B’gee,’’ were the cynosure of all
eyes would not begin to express the situa-
tion. Every one’s glance was fairly glued
upon them. Girls forgot their dance part-
ners, cadets stopped still in their tracks.
Not a soul offered to dance. Nota soul
did anything but stare at those three idiots.

They did not seem the least bit ill at
ease. All of them seemed quite in their
element. Their attire was surely immacu-
late; Chauncey was fairly radiant in an
elegantly handled monocle. And they did
not seem to notice the stares, intention-
ally rude, that came from the cadets.
They knew just what to do, and they did
it, while the whole room watched and
gasped.

Grace Fuller, belle of West Point, sat
in one corner of the room, a_ perfect
vision of loveliness indescribable. About
her were half a dozen cadets. Her stern
old father sat nearby, with Mrs. Fuller
beside him. And toward that group those
idiotic plebes were going!

The yearlings gasped in horror, bit
their lips in vexation. For Judge Fuller
rose from his seat and welcomed Mark
Mallory heartily; his wife did likewise.
The three sat down and began to talk to
them and to Grace, at which the cadets
wich that party went off in horror and
amazement.

Well, there was no use staring any
more, for the three plebes were safe be-
hind that bulwark; and vexed and agera-
vated, the cadets went their ways and
began to dance. They kept their eyes on
the three, however. They saw Mrs.

Oh, say, will they

887

Fuller rise suddenly and cross the room,
with Chauncey and Dewey at her. side.
And then what must she do but introduce
them to two girls? Ye gods!

This was terrible! Bull Harris, Mark’s
old enemy, was in the very act of asking
one of the girls, a tall, stately creature
clad in pink, if he might have the pleas-
Mie, CLe.

‘Tm’ sorty; «Mr. Elarris, 7”: said. ahe:
‘‘But I’m already engaged for this
dance. ”’

And then up stepped Mrs. Fuller.

‘‘Miss Evens,’’ she said, ‘‘allow me to
present Mr. Dewey, with whom I believe
you have promised to dance.”’

A moment later, to the indescribable
horror of the cadets in the place, three
plebes set out upon that floor to dance,
each of thein leading girls with whom to
dance was a privilege that came only to
the best. And how those plebes did
dance! ‘The yearlings had never seen
better; they could not but acknowledge
that. For the plebes were on their mettle
then, and if ever they danced in their
lives, they did then, radiant with tri-
umph, swept away by the excitement,
distributing benignant smiles upon every
one.

There is only one heaven that lasts an
eternity. All others, that dance included,
have their ends. The three plebes re-
turned the delighted girls to their seats,
and the cadets, excusing themselves from
every one, rushed out into the hall, there
to hold an angry and excited consulta-
tion. For this was indeed a desperate, a
terrible thing! Evidently three girls,
relying upon their charms, were going to
insult the corps wantonly, dance with
some beastly plebes.

‘“They shall pay for it!’? was the cry.
‘‘Not a man dance with them. Cut them
dead!”

But if the yearlings supposed that Mark
and his friends proposed to dance with
just three girls all that night, they were
woefully and badly mistaken. ‘The fever
had spread in the interim; introductions
had been going on. When the vearlings
returned, behold, Mark was making him-
self charming to another girl, and Chaun-
cey, perfectly in his element at last, was
busily engaged in describing the streets
of Paris to a group of half a dozen!

 
888

“Cut them all!” whispered the yearl-
ings.

Well, they tried it. To be brief, Grace
and the other two danced with no one
that next dance, But three more girls
went down on the blacklist, and the
pebes’ triumph was yet greater.

‘We'll leave ’em no one to dance
with) chuckled Mark, ° We'll «send
them all home!’

The next dance was a lanciers. Three
couples joined the groups upon the floor,
and Jo and behold, from the spot where
the plebes stood every cadet fell away
with obvious-meaning. The rudeness was
seen by every one in the room; it was the
worst insult of all. ‘The three couples
stood, lost for a moment; and then, sud-
denly, red with indignation, the dignified
judge sprang to his feet.

He and his daughter made up that set.
And once more the yearlings fairly
ground their teeth with rage.

They did not know what to do then.
They were fairly baffled. The plebes had
entered the trap—and here was the result !

“Oh, if we only hadn’t been fools
enough to send those invitations!’’ was
their thought.

Meanwhile dance after dance passed,
girl after girl was ‘‘out of it.’ ‘There is
always a scarcity of girls ata place like
West Point. There are always sure to be
more cadets at every hop than there are
partners, and with those three vile plebes
sending three to the wall every dance
(and the prettiest and most liked ones,
too), things soon began to arrive at a
crisis. It looks funny to. “see. tite pretty
girls sitting and the ugly ones dancing
and every one began to see that the plebes
were having decidedly the best of the
bargain. They were dancing with whom
they pleased; most of the “cadets were
soon unable to dance at all, finding it
necessary to hang about the doorway and
discuss the situation.

It was a distinct triumph for the plebes;
even the yearlings could not deny that,
and that made them all the angrier.

Ten dances had passed ; by actual count
there were thirty girls ‘‘out of it,’’ and

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY,

something less than twenty still left to
the cadets. And then the matter came to
a head.

Cadet Lieutenant Wright, a Grsholne

‘man, captain of the football team, and a

hop manager for his class, caused the

trouble. Urged bv all his desperate class-

mates and urged still more by the specta-
cle of Mark’s dancing with a certain

sweet creature who had hitherto devoted -
all her energies to making herself charm-

ing to him, he stepped forward in the

middle of the dance and with his bade

of manager upon his coat, touched Mark

upon the arm.

Mark halted abruptly.
room stared,

‘“‘Mr. Mallory,’’ said the lieutenant,
“‘the cadets who are giving this hop re-
quest you to leave the floor.”’

Mark’s face turned white; he bit his ih
savagely to choke down his anger, and
when he spoke at last his voice was hard
and calm.

‘The cadets who are giving this hop,’’
he said, drawing the invitation from un-
der his coat, ‘‘invited me by this to come.
I shall: consider. your remark, sinae a
personal insult, for which you will be
called upon to answer at Fort Clinton.”’

‘‘And do you refuse to leave ?”’

‘‘As an invited guest and a cadey of this
Academy I most decidedly do.”

And the whole room heard ae too.

Wright returned to bis classmates; a
brief consultation was held, ending in
his stepping across the room and speak-
ing to the leader of the band. The music
stopped abruptly.

The hop was.over for the night.

Three heartily delighted plebes escort-
ed three heartily delighted damsels home
that night. And wild indeed was the hi-
larity of them and of the Seven Devils.

‘Victory! Victory!’ ‘was the cry,
‘‘We danced and we have conquered! Ye
gods!”

The whole

[THE END. |

The next story by Lieutenant Frederick
Garrison will be entitled, ‘‘Mark Mallory’s

Peril; or, The Plotting of an Enemy.’?
No. 20 Army and Navy Weekly.

 
Avene BOR Cin,

An Australian Flood Story.

BY ROBERT RICHARDSON.

RG
PN
ZOO

EET

ae

AKG

CIE
LEE

anda at Mavorna in the twilight of a day
in late April. Mr. Newlyn was scanning
the sky with a searching gaze.
‘‘This has really been an unusually dry
autumn for the district, but if 1 know any-
thing of the signs, I think we’re going to havea change
at last, and pretty soon, too,’’ he said.
“Tt can’t come too soon. Everything’s getting as
dry as tinder,’’ said Jack.
The family had hardly retired that night when every
inmate of the house was aware that the long-looked-

for rain had begun in earnest. There was a sudden
thrashing sound on the roof, and a heavy continuous
thud on the garden-plots which told to an accustomed
ear that, now the rain had set in, it had a mind to
break the record.

When the Newlyns looked out on the world next
morning, it was upon an entirely changed earth and
sky. The garden lay, in places, several inches under
water, and the leaden, low-hung heavens were pouring
down a thick, perpendicular stream of rain, which’
looked most like a grey curtain, and blotted out all
but the immediately surrounding landscape.

 
890

‘‘T bet the river’s up a couple of feet at least,’’ said
Rex.

‘¢And it will be running a ‘banker’ before night if
the rain keeps on like this,’? said Mr. Newlyn.

‘Tf there’s a flood it will go hard with some parts of
the town. It’s along time since we have had a flood in
Euroma,’’? said Mrs. Newlyn.

The Newlyns had no fear for themselves. Mavorna
lay well back from the creek on high ground, and how-
ever hard or long the rain might fall, the garden and
paddocks drained themselves sufficiently to preclude
all risk of the water ever reaching the house itself.

On the afternoon of that day Mr. Newlyn received

the following letter, brought by a lad who had been
riding hard and fast, as the appearance of his pony
abundantly indicated :

‘‘Uyeni, Tuesday.

‘*Dear Mr. Newlyn: Wearein great straits here.
The water is already level with the veranda, and ris-
ing fast. As you are aware, we have no boat, and if
we had, there is no one to row, except Sydney, Alec
sprained his foot badly a day or two ago jumping out
of the buggy, and cannot walk a yard, and our gar-
dener has gone to Sydney to bring up his wife. We
should have all left the place wlien the river first be-
gan to rise, if we could have moyed my husband—I
mean if we could have got him lifed into the buggy.
Can you come to our help? Your boat is large enough
to take us all away. I would not ask you was I not
sure that there is no danger of your being flooded out
yourself. I hope Mrs. Newlyn will not mind being left
alone at such a time. If you cannot. come to us your-
self, perhaps you could get a boat sent from the town.
Do, please send us help of some kind soon, or I don't
‘know what we shall do. With love to all at Mavorna,
believe me, dear Mr. Newlyn, yours very sincerely,

‘¢ Ada Harrold.’’

Mr. Newlyn handed the letter to his wife.

**You will go, of course,’? Mrs. Newlyn said.

‘‘VYes, I’m just thinking who we can get to help us
in the rowing, I’ll take both the boys, but it will be
stiff work getting back with such a boat-load as we
shall have, and we'll need another oar. Palmer is good
enough for the garden still, but the old man’s too
rheumatic to.be taken out on a night like this, andl
don’t think Fleming has ever shipped an oar in his
life. We must try and get someone in the town.’

Fleming was Mr. Newlyn’s coachman,

Ten minutes later Mr. Newlyn, Jack and Rex were
seated in the strong, roomy boat—in which the family
had made many. a pleasant picnicking excursion up or
down the Walleroy river—and rowing towards the
town, Mr. Newlyn meantime taking the tiller ropes.
Many of the houses in the lower parts of Euroma were
now half-submérged by the flood.

Mr. Newlyn had more difficulty than he anticipated
in procuring another hand for the oars, everybody be-
ing so much taken up with his own concerns. At last
a store-hand. was found—a sturdy young fellow,
named Dennis Cavanagh—who was ready for the ser
vice required. This delay brought the afternoon well
on to five o’clock, and Mr. Newlyn was aware that
every half hour was now precious.

Uyeni lay only three miles down the river, and the
distance could be easily and quickly done when the
wiver was in its usual state. But its present flooded
and turbulent condition made rowing a difficult and
ticklish business; and pulling with the current, though
less tiresome, called for more skill and caution than
against the stream.

It took the best part of an hour before the boat drew
near the Harrolds’ house. Wight was now rapidly
closing in, and the brief Australian twilight was but a

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. |

narrow, murky fringe between the dark day and the
darker night. As the boat drew alongside the house, a
deathlike and ominous stillness reigned around. Nota
sound issued from the interior. The house, built upon
a conimon country plan, consisted of a ground floor
and attics, with a broad veranda running round two
sides of the building. The water had risen level with
the corrugated iron roof of the veranda.

‘‘They must be all in the atitics,’? Mr. Newlyn said,
and then he raised his voice and shouted his loudest.

No answer came from the house, and again Mr.
Newlyn called ‘‘Coo-ee.’’? The roar of waters around
drowned his voice considerably, but still the call should
have been heard within the house.

‘‘Great heavens! Can they all be drowned?’’ Mr.
Newlyn exclaimed,

‘*T?ll soon find out if there’s anyone in the attics, at
any rate,’’? said Jack. ‘‘It will be easy enough climb-
ing over the roof of the veranda and looking in at the
windows. Just bring the boat to.*’

The boat was brought up close alongside the ver-
anda, so that Jack could get out upon the roof. He
scrambled out, and up the slippery iron roof on all
fours, until he reached the attic windows, one of which
was open. In afew minutes he was back again in the
boat.

‘‘There’s not a sign of anybody in either of the
rooms. ‘‘It’s a queer racket, my word!’?

‘¢What can have happened??? said Mr. Newlyn.

‘‘Tt’s not likely they’re drowned, sir,’’ said Kava-
nagh. ‘*Why should they be, when those little rooms
above there are. still tight and dry, comparatively
speaking ?’’

‘‘Then what do you think yourself, Dennis?
can the whole family have got away?’’

‘‘Well, sir, there’s been boats passing up and down
the river since daybreak, to places still lower down,
and maybe they shouted, and one of the boats heard
them and took them away.”’

‘‘It may beso; but that must have happened, of
course, since Mrs. Harrold sent her letter. I must say
I feel very anxious.’’

Mr. Newlyn was, asa matter of fact, more fearful
as to the fate of his old friends than he allowed him-
self to express.

‘‘Well, what’s to be done, father?’’ Rex asked.

‘*T don’t see what we can do but return to the town.
We shall learn there, of course, whether the Harrcolds
have been rescued. If not, it’s a dreadful business.’’

The boat’s head was turned northward toward the
town again. It had now become very dark, but the
lights from the town could be seen making a faint
glimmer ahead in the bleak black waste of sky and
water. Jack fastened a lantern at the prow of the
boat, which cast a dull glow for a few yards around.
A. stiff wind, which had been gradually increasing all
the afternoon, blew on the starboard bow, and fur-
rowed the swollen waters into long, uneven waves.

The boat made its slow progress over the murky
weltering plain of waters. Little was said by any one
of its crew, but in less than ten minutes after Uyeni
had been left behind, Jack, who was at the bows. cried
out suddenly :

‘‘Light on the starboard bow !’?

The next moment all saw the light.

“(What can it be? It’s too high for a boat,’’ said
Mr. Newlyn.

‘*] know where it is, anyway,’’ said Rex. ‘‘It’s on
One Tree Hill, right enough.’?’

How

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

As Rex spoke, all heard a faint ‘‘coo-ee’’ come from
the direction of the light, then a second, and a third.

‘¢Well make for it. There’s someone on the hill—
there can be no doubt about that,’’ said Mr. New-
lyn.

A quarter of an hour’s rowing, and those in the boat
could distinguish the outline of the small elevation
known as One Tree Hill, looming up. shadow-like out
of the black gulf of the night. When they had got
within what seemed like speaking distance, Mr. New-
lyn, making a trumpet of his hands, called out:

‘¢Hullo there! Who’s there?’’

A voice, just heard above the roar of flood and wind,
came back:

‘‘Ts that you, Mr. Newlyn? We’re all here.’’

‘*That’s Syd’s voice. Sounds for all the world like
a phonograph; but it’s Syd, I bet,’’ said Jack.

The endeavor was now made to get the boat close
alongside the little island, for an islet the hill now was
practically. But this proved by no means such an easy
matter as it at first looked. The hill stood close to the
river, and the flooded stream, now many feet above its
banks, was rushing round the hill in a wild and foam-
ing channel. Thus a turbulent current, approaching
almost to a whirlpool in violence, was sweeping round
the island to a breadth of some eight feet.

This intervening space of angry water the rowers
a und impossible to cross. Again and again they strove
to plough the broad-beamed boat across this narrow
maelstrom, and again and again she was swung round
and brought beam on to the swirl.

‘hose in the boat. could now easily see the party on
the hill or island, whichever it might be rightly
ealled. The figures composing it crouched, huddled
together, a few yards up the slope, on a space of sand.

The weltering, driving rain beat down on the little
group, dimly illumined by astable lantern; anda more
desolate and forlorn- looking band of human beings it
would have been hard to find in fact or fiction,

‘ling across that rope in the stern sheets,’’ Mr.
Newlyn exclaimed at last. ‘‘If they lay hold of it, it
will steady our bow a good bit, and keep us from
swerving.’’

‘‘ Yes, if we can chuck it across,’’? answered Jack, as

he caught up the rope and, making a few coils at the
loose end, prepared to throw.
The rope left his hand, but was immediately caught

up by the wind, and fell mid-w ay into the flood. Jack
drew it aboard and tried again, but with a like result.
Then Cavanagh, relinquishing his oar to Rex Newlyn,
took the rope and tried a cast; but the light rope-end,
which had nothing to weight it, fell short of the shore
by a good two feet.

“We must land it;
the boat alongside,’’ said Jack.
—I’ll jump it with the rope.”’

**Do you think you can manage it, my boy? It’s a
goad eight feet, and jumping from the guuwale of a
boat is no easy business,’’ said Mr, Newlyn, in a some-

rhat anxious voice.

‘*That’s so, father. I’m easily good for an eight-feet
standing- jump on dry land, but this is a rather differ-
“ent journey. But I’m going to try. At the worst, I
ean only fall a couple of feet short, and two str okes
will bring me within grip of the bank.’’

Jack Newlyn was built for leaping—long and broad
in the flank and rather light above—and knew exactly
his powers. He stood, grasping the rope in his left
hand, on the forward "thwart close to the gunwale,
and, balancing himself against the wind, swayed for-
ward and back twice or thrice, and then launched
himself outacross the hissing, foaming strait of waters.

Those in the boat and those on the island watched
him with equal anxiety.. Sydney Harrold had divined
his object, aud stood close at the edge of the water,

it’s our only chance of getting
‘¢T know what I’ll do

891

ready to lend Jack the assistance which he much
feared he would need. The leap, for a boy of sixteen,
was indeed a bold and_ difficult one, testing keenly
both agility and nerve. As Jack hurled himself with
all his strength out through the black night, he set
his teeth like a vice, and for a moment his eyes in-
voluntarily closed. The heavy boat lurched backward
a couple of feet from the force of the recoil.

Jack fell short in his jump by rather more than a
foot, plunging heavily into the swollen channel. But
he was prepared for this contingency, and as he fell
gripped at the short grass on the bank, and saved him-
self from going head under water. At the same mo-
ment Sydney Harrold, leaning forward from the slope,
clutched at Jack and caught him by the arm. For a
niinute or two there was a sharp struggle between the
foaming waters and the two boys, and then Jack,
clinging hand and knee. to the slippery bank, and
materially helped from above by.Sydney, scrambled to
land, the rope still tightly grasped in one hand.

‘“‘Quick, Syd; tell your two sisters and the two
maids they must all bear a hand and hang on to the
rope.”?

Mr. Harrold lay in a reclining posture on the rain-
sodden ground, Mrs. Harrold close beside him. But all
the rest of‘the little party now caught hold of the
rope, and ata word from Jack bore upon /it with
their united strength. The rope tautened under the
strain, and Mr. Newlyn and Cavanagh again bent to
their oars with renewed vigor. The boat’s bow re-
mained steady for a minute, then swerved slightly to
the current, and steadied again. It was a critical mo-
ment—this wrestle between the fierce and_ pitiless
flood and the strength and skill of human hands. Not
a word was spoken on the shore or in the boat. Then
slowly the boat forged its way through the angry
channel, and drew near the bank. At the right mo-
ment Cavanagh whipped out the boat hook, and, hook-
ing on to the ‘bs ank, brought the boat cleverly along-
side, and held her jammed tight against the soft sandy
slope.

Mr. Newlyn leaped ashore. First Mr. .Harrold was
lifted into the beat with some little difficulty, laid at
the bottom, and covered with some rugs that had kept
fairly dry in the locker. Then the women of the party
were assisted in, and lastly, Sidney, Jack and Mr.
Newlyn jumped aboard.

Once more the boat was headed for the town. Long
and difficult was that row back over the heaving
waste of black waters. Again and again did the rowers
relieve one another, and when at last Mavorna was
reached, and all in the boat safely disembarked be-
neath its sheltering roof, Jack declared that his arms
‘*might as well belong to any other fellow for all the
feeling I have in them—my word.’’

The Harrold family were put promptly to bed be-
tween hot blankets, but Mrs. Harrold first briefly told
her story.

All at Uyeni feared, as the afternoon wore on and
no help arrived. that the house would be sapped at its
foundations, and swept away in the flood. A hasty
raft had, therefore, been lashed together out of some
old packing cases, all helping in the work. On this
frail and hazardous craft the family had embarked,
and made for One Tree Hill, Sidney Harrold and one
of his sisters, or the maids by turns, rowing with
paddles of split pine planks.

More by good fortune than by skill or management,
the raft struck the goal] of refuges and those on board of
it disembarked just in time to see their cranky ark of
safety separate and split to pieces. Then the forlorn
little party set_up their flickering lantern, and huddled
together around it, waited and hoped against hope that
some passing boat might catch sight of their signal of
distress.

 
A SrORY

By William_Marray Grayden

Author of “A Legacy of Peril,” etc., etc,

(“IN FORBIDDEN NEPAUL” was commenced in No. 15. Back numbers can be obtained from all newsdealers.y

CHAPTER XIV.
A DARING PROPOSITION.

ITH an agitated face, and with a deep
sense of relief at his heart, Nigel
looked from one to the other of his
companions. He was speechless with
surprise. How could such incredible
things have come to pass? Did the
power of working miracles still exist

on earth? It was too much for his brain to grasp all
at once. Here was Bhagwan Das, whom he had seen
lying cold and dead in the Terai, kneeling before him
in the flesh. And there, in native disguise, was Trav-
ers Hawksmoor. He began to feel afraid of this wonder-
ful and mysterious man, remembering the occult pow-
ers that were attributed to him. True to his promise,
he had entered Nepaul.

‘¢Are you convinced???’ Hawksmoor asked, with a
smile.

‘‘Yes,’’? Nigel muttered. ‘‘Thisis indeed Bhagwan
Das, and you are Travers Hawksmoor. I suspected
you wrongly, but 1 had reason to. I founda _ button
from your coat near my servant’s hut, and when I
hurried to your camp it was deserted. In Heaven’s
name, clear up these mysteries. Where am I, and why
have you brought me here?”’ ‘

‘Sit down, Davenant,’?’ Hawksmoor said, authori-
tatively. ‘‘ You have not tasted food for many hours,
and while you are eating I will enlighten you.’’

He made a sign to Bhagwan Das, who left the tent.
He returned in a moment with «small jar of water,

some rice cakes, and half a cold fowl. Nigel suddenly |

realized that he was hungry, and seating himself on
the grass-strewn floor he prepared to satisfy his appe-
tite, meanwhile looking expectantly at Hawksmoor. °

But just then footsteps were heard, and a fourth in-
dividual appeared in the doorway of the tent. Witha
low-spoken ‘‘Salaam’’ he bowed to Hawksmoor. Nigel
looked at the stranger with interest. He was a lean,
bony little man, scantily attired, very dark-skinned,
and with a shrewd, crafty face; thin black moustache
drooped in two strings, Chinese fashion, over the cor-
ners of his mouth.

‘‘Do you bring news,
asked, quickly.

‘¢Even so, master,’’ was the reply.

He bent his head to Hawksmoor’s ear,
ered for several minutes.

Ten, without somuch as glancing at Nigel, the
little Hindoo glided from the tent, and was followed
@ moment later by Bhagwan Das. Hawksmoor leisure-

Ali Mirza???’ Hawksmoor

and whisp-

ly squatted on the ground in native style, and scrutin-
ized his companion thoughtfully.

‘“There is much that you wish to know—much that
I must tell you, Davenant,’’ he said. ‘‘Certain reasons
require me to be brief, and for the sake of brevity I
must begin at the proper place. It will seem a strange
story to you, but be patient to the end. Also there are
some things which [ cannot tell you as yet——??

‘‘Before you begin,’’ interrupted Nigel, ‘‘answer me
one question. Where am I???

‘‘On an island in the Kalli river,’? Hawksmoor an-
swered, with a smile—”’ close to the sacred town of
Yoga and the purple lake of Dacca. To speak more
concisely, you are in the heart of unknown and for-
bidden Nepaul, twenty miles to the northwest of
Katmandu, and eighteen miles beyond the limit al-
lowed to foreigners. You and 1, Davenant, are the
only Englishmen who have ever penetrated this
region.’”

‘In the heart of Nepaul??? gasped Nigel, with flash-
ing eyes. ‘‘Is it possible! I can’t realize it yet! But
go on; I am burning with curiosity.?? CG

‘*You are forgetting to eat, my dear fellow; and you
need food.”’

Thus rebuked, Nigel took a draught of water fro
the jar, and attacked the rice cakes and fowl. Hawks-
ane watched him for a moment, and then began, ab-
ruptly:

ao know nothing of the secrets of Nepaul, Daven.
ant?’ °

‘‘Nothing, except that it isa land of impenetrable
mystery.’

‘All mysteries may be penetrated,’’? said Hawks-
moor. ‘‘Of course you have never heard so much asa
rumor of the priesthood of Durgadeva???

‘“Never,’’ replied Nigel. ”
‘‘Then it is time for you to learn—to know what n
Englishman save myself has ever suspected,’’ con-
tinued Hawksmoor. ‘‘The order of Durgadeva, the
Snake Queen, is the most wonderful thing of its kind
that exists in the world. Its age is to be reckoned by
centuries, and it is in all respects the same to-day that
it was a thousand years ago, It is also the most power-
ful and secret. It rules Nepaul with laws of iron and
mystic rites, from the Maharajah and hiscouncil down
to the meanest subject. It is an absolute monarchy
and so great is the fear it inspires that for all these
past centuries its existence has been hidden from the
outer world—certainly from all English-speaking people.
Secrecy, indeed, is its fundamental principle. No
British agent at Katmanda ever heard of it; no whis

per of it was ever breathed in Lower India.”

‘‘How bave you jearned this??? Nigel asked, in™
amazement.. i

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

‘*T'he monastery of the order lies within ten miles of
us,’’ Hawksmoor went on, heedless of the interruption.
‘*It is a place of a thousand wonders, hemmed in by a
thousand perils. It holds secrets and treasures that
would startle and convulse the whole civilized world.
The priests are chosen by a law: of heredity. They
are cruel and fanatical and well versed in the mystic
laws and lore of the. country which they rule from
their stronghold. There are three grades, and it takes
a lifetime to reach the highest; and the long arm of
this order extends in a sense over all india, where it
has its secret agents in nearly every town and village.
The priests themselves are branded on the chest with
the seven heads of Durgadeva——’’

‘*By Jove!’’ exclaimed Nigel. ‘‘Oh, I beg your par-
don! But I have seen that mark, Hawksmoor.’’

**Yes; on the body of Bhagwan Das.”’

‘But was it his body?’?

“*Be patient,’’? said Hawksmoor. ‘‘I am coming to
that shortly. First, for your better uncerstanding, I
must give you a brief history of Bhagwan Das—whose
veal name, by the way, 1s Bhungi Lal. He was born
near here, and had an elder brother, and by the law of
heredity both were destined ata certain age for the
priesthood of Durgadeva. In 1858 the elder brother,
Panta Lal, entered the monastery.

‘*Bhagwan Das—TI shall still call him that—went the
pame year to Lucknow with the army of Jung
Bahadur, and on his return he, too, became a_ priest.
But the outer world had spoiled him for a monastic
life—its temptations assailed him constantly; so he at-
tempted to flee, was caught and condemned to a horri-
ble death, and ultimately escaped to Lower India ina
marvellous manner that need not be related here. He
was believed to be dead, and yet the fear of discovery
has always haunted him. You know now why he wore
a kummerbund high on his chest—why he was reluct-
ant to return to Nepaul in your service.?’

“Good heavens, what an amazing story!’? gasped
Nigel. ‘‘And that monastery—it seems incredible!??

*‘Tt is all true,’’? said Hawksmoor. ‘‘And next we
come to the Terai. When 1 met you there, Davenant,
I was waiting to join a caravan of traders who were
to enter Nepaul by the Gorukpur route. Five years
before I had become acquainted with the leader of the
caravan, Ali Mirza, whom you saw a few moments
ago; and it has taken me from that time until the
present to persuade him to lei me accompany him in
disguise across the frontier of Nepaul. He is strongly
attached to me, and I have the utmost confidence in
him. He was born at the nearby town of Yoga, and is
a most wonderful little man—but that you will soon
discover for yourself.?’

‘You are heaping on the mysteries, instead of clear-
ing them away,’’ exclaimed Nigel. ‘‘hen are you
coming to Bhagwan Das again?’’

**At once,’? said Hawksmoor. ‘When I left your
quarters in the village of Purna that night I paid
Bhagwan Das a visit. I wished to get into Nepaul

mainly to verify the vague rumors I had heard of the
order of the Durgadeva, and from what you had told
me of Bhagwan Das | suspected that he could reveal
some important secrets if he chose. But my cautious
questions merely terrified him and put him on_ his
guard, and I gave him up in despair. And now see
how Fate played him strangely into my hands. I had
walked about fifty yards toward my camp, and was
just within the jungle, when I fancied I heard stealthy
footsteps. I slipped behind a tree, and the next mo-
ment a native crept past me. I watched him, and saw
him go straight to Bhagwan Das’ hut. He made a dive
inside, and then I heard a slight scuffle. I was quickly
on the scene, and arrived in time to deal the ruffiana
blow with the butt of my.revolver; at the same _ in-
stant Bhagwan Das had wrested the fellow’s knife
from him and stabbed him to the heart.

‘‘T lit a tiny pocket-lantern that I had with me,
and saw that Bhagwan Das was pale with fright. His
own kummerbund and that of the dead man had been
torn loose in the brief struggle, and on the naked
chests of both was the serpent mark. I knew what
that meant, for I had heard of it before. To cut a long
story short, the scoundrel we had killed between us
proved to be Panta Lal, the brother of Bhagwan Das;
and concealed in his clothing I found—and translated
easily—a paper that explained the whole thing. This
document was a sort of a passport, intended to pro-
cure certain help, if needed, for many of the scattered
agents of the order of Durgadeva. It showed that

893

Bhagwan Das had been accidentally recognized some
months before; that word to that effect reached the
priesthood in the monastery, and that Panta Lal had
been sent forth to find and slay his own brother.

‘*T read all this to Bhagwan Das, and purposely re-
vealed what I knew of the secret order. Hrightened
by my knowledge, he made a full confession, telling
the strange story that I have related to you. He was
just the man that I wanted for a companion, and in
the end I won his consent to accompany me into Ne-
paul. He was the more ready to do this because of a
plan that I proposed for making it appear that he
himself had been killed. The likeness between the two
brothers suggested this to me, and I made the most of
it. You see, both of them wore beards. I shaved Bhag-
wan Das, and he exchanged clothes with Panta Lal.
Then we slipped off to my camp, and by sunrise we
were miles away. Under the circumstances I did not
care to have you breakfast with me.’’

“I should think not!’’ exclaimed Nigel. ‘‘I forgive
you freely, Hawksmoor, though you played a neat
trick on me. By Jove, this sounds like a page from
the Arabian Nights! But Iam only getting into the
mystery. Tellme why and how you brought me
here.’’

‘‘A few words will do that,’’ interrupted Hawks-
moor. ‘‘I left my servants and luggage ata certain
point in the Terai, and Bhagwan Das and'I joined the
caravan. We got into Nepaul all right, and Ali Mirz
brought us to this little island, which is believed to be
haunted by an evil spirit. Then, a few days ago, I
learned of the supposed murder of Miss Brabazon.’?

**You did??? interrupted Nigel, in astonishment.

‘Yes; Ali Mirza is a fountain of information. And
I also learned another fact that. resolved me to send
for you. I formed a good opinion of you in the Terai,
and I felt sure that you were a man to be depended
upon. So Ali Mirza and Bhagwan Das journeyed by
water to the Vishnumati—the Kalli river flows into
it a few miles below Katmandu—and they soon ascer-
tained that you were a prisoner in the fortress. You
know the rest. They were about to start back last
night, when you fell into their hands. There was no
time to explain—they were afraid you would refuse to
come on my invitation—so thev had to use force and a
certain powerful drug. In that condition you were
brought here, and you have beeu sleeping soundly ever
since. I trust you will forgive me, my dear fellow.”’

‘*Freely,’? said Nigel; ‘‘for without much doubt you
saved me from recapture. But what motive prompted
you.to bring me here—into the forbidden land? What
do you want with me???

‘*Are you game for a perilous undertaking?’’

‘*That depends on what it is,’? Nigel answered, anx-
iously.

**T want you to help me rescue Miss Brabazon,’’
Hawksmoor replied, coolly. ‘‘She is a prisoner in the
monastery of Durgadeva.’’

eee ee teen)

CHAPTER XV.
DEEPENING MYSTERIES.

The calmly-uttered statement, coming as a dramatic
climax to the weird chain of mysteries that had been
unfolded to him that afternoon, simply stunned Nigel.
Muriel a prisoner in the monastery of _Duragdeva!
The words burned like fire into his brain, and their

echo rang in his ears. Fora moment he stood open-
mouthed, his features working convulsively; then he
he sprang forward, and clutched Hawksmoor’s shoul-
der in a grip of iron.

‘*What is this thing you tell me?’’ he cried, in a
harsh voice. ‘‘My God, man, do you really mean it???

‘{Compose yourself, Davenant.”’

‘‘But is it true? I can’t believe it—it seems too in-
credible !??

‘‘It is true, my dear fellow. I swear that the girl is
in the monastery.”?

‘‘And you have learned this?’’ muttered, Nigel.
‘You are surely in league with the devil !”’

Travers Hawksmoor smiled, as though the doubtful
compliment pleased him. ‘‘Substitute Ali Mirza. for
his Satanic Majesty,’’ he replied, ‘‘and I will admit
that you areright. I have no supernatural powers,
Davenant, though I am aware that some persons think
otherwise.’’

‘*And with reason,’’ said Nigel. ‘‘Youare a wonder-

 
804

ful man, and I. do. not know what to make of you.
This last thing bewilders me, and yet I begin to see
light through it. So my first theory of the crime was
right. The evidence of murder was a cunning trick,
and the girl was carried off alive.’’

‘‘Yes; straight to the monastery.’

‘¢And by that infernal scoundrel Matadeen Mir?”’

‘«By his hirelings; it’s the same thing.’’

‘¢And how did you learn all this?’ asked Nigel.

‘¢Hrom Ali Mirza,’? Hawksmoor replied. ‘I have
told you what an amazing little chap he is. And he
is a most consummate villain as well—unscrupulous,
treacherous, and utterly regardless of honor of his na-
tive religion.”’

‘*Then he may betray you at any moment.’?

‘Not he!’? muttered Hawksmoor, with a grim laugh.
‘¢He fears me more than he would the evil one. He
knows that I have power to read every thought pass-
ing in his mind. I give him a practical demonstration
of it at times to keep him in hand.”’

‘*By hypnotism?’’ Nigel queried, in amazement.

‘¢ves. I happen to be a_ student of that occult art,’’
Hawksmoor replied. ‘‘So don’t worry about Ali
Mirza,’’ he added... ‘‘I hold him by fear and by bribes
—he is too fond of my gold to ever dream of treach-
ery. And the cunning little fiend is a mine of informa-
tion. He has a way of gleaning secrets in the bazaars
of Yoga, where most things that happenin the coun-
try are whispered about. Thus i learned that a
memsahib had been taken to the monastery ‘twelve
days ago.”’

‘*But how did you learn the rest?’’? Nigel inter-
rupted.

“‘T sent Ali Mirza to Katmundu,’? Hawksmoor re-
sumed, ‘‘and he returned with the whole story—with
facts that revealed one of the most cunning, daring
and masterly plots ever contrived.’’

‘“Then do you mean to say that it was not a case of
mere abduction—of jealousy on the Prime Minister’s
part?’?’

‘*You shall learn for yourself. later, Davenant, so
have patience. It aappens that I met Miss Brabazon
in London two years ago, and when I discovered her
terrible situation I determined to rescue her—it was a
task after my own heart, I believed that you would
relish such an adventure yourself, and so I sent for
you.’?

‘* And you have not mistaken your man,’’ Nigel de-
clared, earnestly. ‘‘I would risk life ten times over to
save that poor girl. But itis surely madness to hope
for success, if all that you have told me of this terrible
monastery is true. Yet with youramazing powers——’’

‘‘T would undertake nothing that was hopeless,’’
Hawksmoor said, quietly. ‘‘I have spent hours in lay-
ing my plans—in preparing what is needed. To-mor-
row you shall judge of the chances, and until then you
need not decide if you will accompany me or not,’?’

‘¢At least tell me why the'girl was sent to the mon-
astery,’’? pleaded Nigel. ‘‘What daring plot has Mata-
deen Mir batched???’

‘*] prefer that you should learn those things from
other lips,’? Hawksmoor answered. ‘‘To-night, when
the sun has gone down, you shall be an unseen witness
of astrange interview. By the way, I suppose you
understand the dialect spoken in India by the Goorkha
native ofticer's?’?

‘¢Perfectly.’?

‘‘Good! That is the tongue’ you will hear.
come outside and stretch your limbs.”’

Hawksmoor’s tone forbade further questioning, and
Nigel realized that his curiosity to know more could
not be gratified at present. A sort of a spell seemed to
be upon him, and as he followed his companion from
the tent he knew that he was under the influence of
this mysterious individual. He began to understand
that he was oue who could sway men to his will and
draw them blindly after him.

I'he spell of Hawksmoor’s presence yielded to a
deeper sense of enchantment, of thrilling delight,
when the young officer found himself outside the tent.
He remembered only that he was in the heart of for-
bidden Nepaul, in the kingdom of unrevealed myster-
ies, and so a glamor lay on everything within sight.

It was not much that he saw at first—a circular
clearing, well trodden, hemmed about by a barrier of
jungle and rocks that rose some feet higher than the
top of the tent. Some native panniers and sacks, such
as are carried by caravans, lay to one side, and near
by squatted Ali Mirza and Bhagwan Das. In_ the dis-

And now

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

tance, to right and left, rugged cliffs towered high
toward the ruddy sky.

Hawksmoor parted the fringe of jungle and led his
companion by a sort of path to the very crest of the
rocks.»And the scene that here burst upon Nigel’s view
filled him with admiration and awe and wrung a cry
from his lips. He was standing at one end of the isl-
and, and could see its scanty extent clearly—a turtle-
shaped mass of granite, no more than fifty feet long,
and with the crater-like hollow in its centre so cun-
ningly concealed that its existence could not have
been suspected from shore.

On both sides flowed the Kalli river, narrow,
and so deep that its current made buta slight mur-
mur. It was ina gorge, overhung threateningly by
two great walls of mountains that rose sheer trom the
water’s edge, steep and unscalable, and shot up for
thousands of feet until their sky-lines' seemed almost
to kiss. The view was not far-reaching, for within a
quarter of a mile above and below the island the
stream plunged sharply round curves and was lost to
sight. But the charm and weirdness of it all was the

swift

peculiar color left by the now-vanished sun--the pur-
island and towering

ple glow that rested on river,
cliffs.

‘‘What do you think of it, Davenant?’? Hawksmoor
asked.

‘‘Tt takes my breath,’’ Nigel replied. ‘‘It is sublim
—magnificent! I have seen nothing like it!’?

‘‘And we are perfectly safe here,’’ said Hawksmoor.
‘Tt would be difficult to find anywhere a more lonely
spot—one better hid from prying eyes. And yet the
sacred town of Yoga is just round that bend’’—point-
ing down stream. ‘‘Your capors brought you past it
under cover of darkness. And yonder, above, lie the
purple lake of Dacca and the water-approach to the
monastery of Durgadeva.’?

Nigel looked wistfully up the stream, and a lump
rose in his throat as he thought of Muriel Brabazon
in the clutches of fanatical priests.

‘*Boats are seldom seen on this river,’?? Hawksmoor
went on, ‘‘and the mountains that hem it in are in-
actessible from top to base. The whole locality has an
evil name among the natives, and the island especially
is believed to be the abode of a wicked spirit. It was
never trodden by human foot until that rascally and
daring Ali Mirza ventured to explore it a year or two
ago. He did not mention his feat, which is a lucky
thing for us. For when I determined to send for you
if was necessary for me to move,my quarters from
Yoga; so Ali Mirza gave out that Bhagwan Das and I
were returning to Lower India, and secretly brought
us here. He himself is in Yoga much of the time, and
he has'a remarkable ingenious way of concealing his
goings and comings. We have two boats hidden on the
island, and one of them we shall make use of very
shortly.’’

‘*Where are you going to take me?’? Nigel asked.

‘¢Vou will see,’? was the reply. ‘‘Come! It is near]
dark, and close to the appointed hour.”

Hawksmoor led thé way down over the rocks to the
clearing, where the two Hindoos had prepared supper
on a flat stone. The four sat around it without regard
to caste or color, and while the twilight deepened
they ate in silence. It was quite dark when Hawks-
moor rose decisively.

‘*Is it time?’’ he asked.

‘*It is time, sahib,’’ replied Ali Mirza.

‘‘T am ready,’? said Hawksmoor. ‘‘I see you have
only your stockings on,’?’ he added to Nigel. ‘‘That is
best for our purpose. To-morrow I will provide you
with sandals. Proceed, Ali.’?

The wizened little Hindoo led the way across the
crater, dived down a narrow slit between the rocks,
and so came with his companions to a narrow shelf
beside the. water. He lifted some thick bushes, reveal-
ing two boats floating in a tiny bay, and one of these
Hawksmoor drew out.

‘‘Get in, Davenant,’’ he said; and Nigel obeyed
with a strange tremor at his heart. Where were these
daring men about to take him, he wondered, and what
frightful peril might they not lead him into?

CHAPTER XVI.

THE ANCIENT PROPHESY OF ASHTAMA,

The boat glided diagonally down stream over
murky surface of the river, with Hawksmoor

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. *

Nigel crouched in the two ends, and Ali Mirza and
Bhagwan Das kneeling on the bottom while they pad-
dled with swift strokes. It was ashort ride, for the
island was still in plain view behind when the little
craft swung alongside the base of the mountain. It
drifted on thus, occasionally grating the sheer wall of
rock, for perhaps twenty feet. Then Ali Mirza vigor-
ously backed water, and at the same instant Hawks-
moor called out:

‘*Heads down, Davenant!’’

To Nigel’s amazement the boat was now moving
tnto a fissure of the cliff densely overhung with bushes.
He ducked just in time, felt a rasping sensation of
prickly foliage about his head and ears, and then
looked up to find himself in pitch darkness. With no
other sound than the gentle drip and splash of the
paddles, the craft darted on through a damp, cavern-
ous atmosphere. And Nigel knew that he was in a cav-
ern—in a water passage deep under the mighty bulk
of the mountain.

Less than five minutes later there was a grinding
noise, and the boat stopped with a jar. Snap! Hawks-
moor had struck a vesta, and he touched the tiny
flame to a queer-looking stick of wood helé ready for
him by Ali Mirza. This began to burn with a_ steady
flame, throwing off a resinous and fragrant odor.

By the yellow glow of light Nigel stared about him
with awe and wonder. Overhead, and to right and left,
were slimy walls of rock, fading away into the black-
ness behind, The narrow water channel ended at a
short strip of sandy beach, on which the boat rested,
and beyond that a forbidding-looking tunnel dived in-
to the heart of the mountain. It was a weird, uncanny
place.

Ali Mirza stepped out of the boat, followed by Nigel
and Hawksmoor. Tho latter turned to Bhagwan Das.

‘¢You will remain here as before,’’ he said. ‘‘Hx-
pect us in about two hours.”’

**T will do the sahib’s bidding,’’ the Hindoo replied.
‘*May Brahma bring you safe back again!?’

Ali Mirza had already started forward, and Nigel
and Hawksmoor hurried after him across the beach,
leaving Bhagwan Das to darkness and © solitude.
Swiftly the little Hindoo led the way through the
cavern, flashing his torch on the floor and walls of
smooth stone. The passage was about ten feet wide
and high, and for a quarter of a mile it went upward
at.a gentle slope. Hawksmoor spoke not a word, and
Nigel, curious though he was, did not care to break
the silence.

Finally, a stretgh of level roadway was reached, and
this terminated abruptly on the brink of a gorge some
fifteen feet wide. A narrow bridge, constructed lad
der fashion of two slender tree-trunks, with cross-
strips fastened to them, spanned the chasm.

Ali Mirza scrambled quickly across, aud from the
opposite bank he held the torch high to light his com-
panions. Nigel hesitated on the brink, shuddering at
the black depths below him, and not liking the looks
of the frail structure. It was less than three feet wide,
and there was nothing to hold by.

‘* Are you afraid of dizziness?’? Hawksmoor asked,
half contemptuously. -

‘fT am usually quite clear-headed,’’? Nigel replied;
‘fand in daytime I: have crossed many a lofty ravine
by swinging cables. But somehow or other this Jooks
different.’

‘itis perfectly safe,?? Hawksmoor
‘¢Go on; there is no time to lose.’’

Nigel nerved himself and stepped confidently out on
the bridge. It quivered under him, and even swayed
a little; but he went on steadily from strip to strip,
and he was half ashamed of his momentary fear when
he gained the firm rock where Ali Mirza was waiting.
Hawksmoor followed safely, and the three. pushed on
with increased speed through the continuation of the
cavern. Fora time the smooth-worn floor of rock was
level, and then it began to descend almost impercepti-
bly.

‘¢How much deeper into the bowels of the mountain
are we going?’’ Nigel ventured to ask.

‘*Have patience a little longer. We are nearly at the
end,’? Hawksmoor replied. ‘‘This ancient tunnel
through the mountan cuts off a curve of the river, aud
leads to the outskirts of the sacred town of Yoga, close
to a Durbar House that has been used for centuries as
a meeting-place for the priests of Durgadeva and the
Nepaulese officials of the outer world, for holding the

assured him.

895

councils at which the will of the monastic order was
made known to their figure-head on the throne.’’

‘‘And are we going there now?’’ Nigel asked,
eagerly,

**You will see,’’? was the reply. ‘‘Formerly the
priests came by barge down the Kalli river, and so
through the tunnel. But they abandoned that long
route some years ago, when their paved road, on which
they had been working for two centuries, was com-
pleted to the monastery. Ali Mirza found the old en-
trance, and he has been using the tunnel for going
secretly to and from the island. He repaired the bridge
which was in a bad condition.’’

Nigel was on the point of asking further questions,
but just then the passage turned sharply. At once Ali
Mirza blew out his torch, and Hawksmoor checked his
companion by a touch. For a moment the silence was
unbroken, and then a grating noise was heard from
where the Hindoo crouched close in front. Slowly a
massive slab of stone swung open on rusty hinges, re-
vealing a square of dim light, and letting ina fresh
air laden with perfume of trees and flowers.

Ali Mirza slipped through the doorway, and when
his companions had cautiously followed him he swung
the slab back into place. At first the three stood lis-
tening and peering about. Behind them the mountain
sloped up steeply, and in front were the ruins of what
had once been a stately edifice—columns, fragments of
walls, and heaps of masonry. Now the broken pave-
ment was overgrown with thick grass and vegetation,
and overhead tall trees formed a canopy of leaves in
place of the fallen roof,

The moonlight was almost entirely shut out, nor was
it possible to see for any distance; but on the night
air came a faint hum of life, a murmur of voices and
footsteps in populated bazaars. It gave Nigel a fiery
thrill to realize that he was so near to one of the buried
towns of Nepaul, and he longed for a peep at it, until
he remembered that even stranger things had been
promised him.

‘“This is a part of the old Durbar House, built more
than a thousand years ago,’’ whispered Hawksmoor.
‘‘Its successor, where we are going, is itself six or
seven hundred years vid. And now we niust set about
our task. Absolute silence is necessary, Davenant, for
guards are posted roundabout, except on the moun-
tain-side. If we are caught, it means certain death.’?

‘*You can rely on me,’’ replied Nigel.

Hawksmoor nodded. ‘‘Not a word,’?? he said; an
with that he made a sign to Ali Mirza, who at onc®
advanced. As stealthily as cats the three crept through
the shadowy ruins, and coming soon to the verge of a
square paved court, they halted here to reconnoitre.
To right and left were other ruins, but straight across
rose what Nigel knew must be the Durbar House, and
in the pale moonlight it made a most enchanting pic-
ture—a facade of magnificent doors, windows, and
arches, rich in color and decoration, and carved into
wonderful stone and brass semblances of heathen gods
and monsters, dragons and lions: and over all rose
countless minarets and domes, tier upon tier of towers
and balconies,

‘*Tt is well, sahib,’’ said the Hindoo, in a low voice.

‘*And the hour is here,’?? whispered Hawksmoor, :
“Go only

Like three spectres: they crossed the court, Ali Mirza
leading, and Nigel’s heart beating with mingled fear
and expectation. With silent tread they dived under
an archway, passed ten feet along a covered passage,
and stopped before a narrow door of square lattice
work. Guided by a touch from Hawksmoor, Nigel
advanced a few inches and put his eyes close to the
thin strips of carved wood. And what he saw almost
took his breath away.

Behind the lattice dvor lay a great, high domed
chainber, its floor of polished marble, and its walls
rich with gilding and carving. Across the apartment
stretched a table cut from solid stone, and at the near
end of this, facing each other, two men sat in gorge-
ous chairs of red granite; between them a curious old
lamp of bronze burned with a subdued light. One was
of venerable and devout appearance, attired in a flow-
ing robe of a creamy color, brocaded from top to bot-
tom with rows of glittering jewels. He was intently
reading a roll of closely-written paper, and on his
grey-bearded, sallow face were stamped power, fanat-
icism, and an iron and merciless will. His companion,
plainly dressed, with a light complexion and huge
black moustache, was none other than. Matadeen Mir,

 
896

*¢Compose yourself,’? Hawksmoor breathed in Nigel’s

ear, ‘‘A whisper, a rustle, may betray us. I brought
you here for a purpose. The old man is Vashtu, the
high priest of the monastery, and this appointment
was made for to-night by the Prime Minister. They
are quite alone, having left their attendants at the far
entrance to the Durbar House.’’

‘¢Yes, I understand. But what——’?

‘¢Hush, not a word! Now listen!”’

Hawksmoor moved a pace or two away, and Nigel,
turning an ear to the lattice, heard distinctly the con-
versation that had just begun within; that particular
dialect of the Hindostani tongue was well known to
him.

‘‘T have read all,’’ said the high priest, laying the
paper aside. ‘‘Verily, they are wise words, and they
are clear to my mind so far as they go. But how may
the thing come to pass till the Feringhee woman is
bent to our will??? :

‘Ts she still obdurate, then?’’ Matadeen Mir asked,
uneasily.

‘*She is like a graven image of stone, your high-
ness,’? was the reply, ‘‘for in vain do we appeal to
her. She eats and sleeps, and she retains her beauty of
face and form; but she turns a deaf ear to our words
as interpreted to her by Rana, her attendant. She re-
fuses to learn our language, she scoffs at our religion,
and she vows that she will slay herself rather than
take you for a husband,’’

‘‘She must yield,’’? declared Matadeen Mir, his
black eyes flashing. ‘‘Persevere, O holy Vashtu, for in
the end the girl will see her folly. Is it not written so
in the prophecy? Can we disbelieve the words of
Ashtama, the miracle-maker?’’

Vashtu fixed his keen eyes.on Matadeen Mir.

‘tit is indeed strange,’’ he said, thoughtfully, ‘‘that
the head man of Yoga should have’ found, but a few
days ago, that stone concealed in a part of the Durbar
House where we two now sit—a stone inscribed by’ the
great Ashtama, the miracle-maker and writer of

prophecies, who was the high priest of our order more.

than a century ago!’’

“It was so meant to happen,’’ Matadeen Mir said,
earnéstly. ‘‘Has nota part of the prophecy already
been fulfilled? Did not our people wage war with
China a century ago, and later lay the neighboring
land of Thibet under tribute?’’

‘‘Tt is true, your-highness.’’

‘¢And did we not make a treaty with the white con-
querors from over the sea? Did not the whirlwind of
the Great Mutiny blow its hot blast on the Feringhees
throughout Lower India, and in vain?’?

‘‘That is also true,’’? admitted the high priest.

‘All these things were written in the prophecy,’’

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

Matadeen Mir continued, triumphantly, ‘‘and can any
man doubt that the remainder will be accomplished
likewise? Hearken again to the last words of Ashtama,
O Vashtu, if so be I remember them rightly; are they
not as follows? ‘In the year 1254 of the Johurrum’—
which is the present time—‘there will come to Nepaul
a fair daughter of the white conquerors from over the
sea. Her the king’s right-hand man, of the ancient
family of Mir, will steal away to the monastery of
Durgadeva, where she will remain secretly for a time
under the persuasion of the priests. Then he will take
her to wife, and the throne shall be given to him, the
one holding it being deposed. And after that shall com-
mence such a reign of prosperity as the kingdom. of
Nepaul hath never enjoyed in all the past.? Such, O
Vashtu, is the sacred word of Ashtama.’’

With that Matadeen Mir folded his arms compla-
cently, and looked across the table at his companion,

‘*It is even so,’’ the high priest assented, gravely.
‘Surely the stone was inscribed by command of
Ashtama—none who have looked upon it in the mon-
astery think otherwise—and doubtless the last of the
things written thereon will be fullfiled, like the first.
And when the time is ripe I, Vashtu, the king-maker,
will act accordingly.”’

Matadeen Mir’s eyes gleamed. ‘‘The time will not
be Jong,’’ he said, ‘‘if ye see to it that the girl is bent
to your will. And even without her consent I could
marry her.’

‘‘That is not in the prophecy,’’ muttered Vashtu,
‘nor is any word written to the contrary. So you
might indeed take her to wife, provided she is con-
verted to our religion. But I will ponder the matter.’’

‘‘T will wait another week,’’ said Matadeen Mir,
‘fand then I will come here again to speak with
"Ou. ??

? ‘*T trust I shall have a different report to make to
you by that time,’’ replied the high priest. ‘‘Does the
Maharajah suspect nothing?’

‘‘Nothing, O Vashtu!’?

‘And the army!’’

‘They are loyal to Pershad Singh,’’ replied Mata-
deén' Mir, ‘‘who, as you know, has helped me greatly
in this matter.’’

‘*It is well,?? said’ Vashtu. ‘‘I am the high priest of.
Durgadeva, and what the seven-headed Serpent Queen
bids me that must I do.’’

There was a brief silence now, and Hawksmoor and
Nigel—who had overheard every word of the conver-
sation—looked at each other in the murky light that
filtered through the latticed door. As they stood thus
they heard of a sudden a stealthy footfallclose by, and
wheeling round they saw a dark form creeping toward
them just beyond Ali Mirza.

 

Y a ps 4 i :
Gi4/)» Meh
Yj Whar aad (oe Bin. to ane

 
(Copyrighted, Ainevican Publishers’ Corporation.)

CHAPTER I.
MR. BIXTON’S HIRED MAN.

shootin’,’’ remarked Mr. Bixton, as he sat
on the wide raised veranda of his hotel, and
looked down at his new helper, who was

watering a couple of broncos at a large
square stone trough in the yard directly

below.

Aud there was a look about the object of Mr. Bix-
ton’s gaze which gave the impression that he was
rather out of place as hired man at a small hotel ina
little Western mining town. He was a young fellow of
seventeen or thereabouts, unusually tall and _ broad-
shouldered for his years.

‘¢A powerfuler built chap of his inches I never see,’’
continued Mr. Bixton, taking his slippered feet from
the rail on which they were resting; ‘‘and any fool
would know he wasn’t brought up to no sech kind of
work as he’s took holt of. ‘l’om!’’

The name called out by his employer in a loud but
not unkindly voice caused the new ‘‘help’’ to look up.

‘* Well???

‘tT reckon by that figgerin’ on your arm that you’ve
been to sea a bit in your day, eh???’

For upon the muscular arm in question—displayed
by the rolled-up woolen shirt sleeve—was ‘‘T'om’’ ina
true lover’s knot done in India ink.

, Loni pushed his sleeve back to place with a hasty
movement not unnoticed by Bixton.

‘*No—except doing a little yachting.’’

“And not as no common sailor, neither,’’ was Mr.
Bixton’s mental decision. For, despite l'om’s’ shabby
apparel, his speech and manner were more than sug-
gestive of education and good breeding.

As though desirous of escaping further questioning,
Tom hurried the broncos away from the big stone
tank, back to the wooden stable at the rear. He was
absent for wo or three minutes before he reappeared.

“Better broom off the verandy ‘fore the stage gits
along; it’s tremendous dusty, Tom,’’ was Mr. Bix-
ton’s next remark.

The new help silently proceeded to obey. And one
of Mr. Bixton’s great aggravations was that Tom sel-
dom spoke to him excepting in reply to a direct ques-
tion.

‘Lord, if here ain’t that half-breed Mexican com-
in’, Thought we’d got shut of him when I heard he’d
jined Geary’s prospectin’ party bound up ’monyst the
Bighorns.”’

Mr. Bixton’s tones, suggestive of vexation and. dis-
may, caused ’om to turn, broom in hand. A mustang
was galloping full speed down the street, while its
rider, having dropped the bridle on the neck of the
foaming steed, was cruelly plying the rawhide quirt.

“Who is he?’’ quietly asked Tom.

“Calls himself Montez. His mother, they say, was a
*Merican actress, and his father a Mexican bull fighter
down to Albukerky. And he’s the recklessest speci-
nes ever struck these parts, which is sayin’ consider-
able.

Before Bixton had fairly finished this flattering re-
cital, the mustang, brought on his haunches by the
slightest touch of the bridle, was standing motionless
in front of the high veranda. To Tom’s inward sur-
prise, of which no sign was visible on his regular,
good-looking features, Montez was apparently not over
twenty years of age, and remarkably handsome. He
had delicately cut features touched with a mellow
golden tint by the action of sun and wind. Curly
black hair streamed over his shoulders, while a jetty
mustache but half concealed the crattily cruel lines
about his lips. And his eyes, though intensely black,
had the curious glitter of those of a jaguar in its na-
tive forests.

All these things Tom took in at one brief glance as
he stood looking down at the new arrival, who, re-
turning the look in kind, called out peremptorily:

‘*Hallo, you there! Come down and take round my
mustang to the stable!’’

‘¢Pake him round yourself!’’? was the very unex-
pected response. For, irritated more than he could
have tiiought possible by Montez’s tone and manner,
Tom forgot himself entirely.

‘Fer kingdom’s sake don’t mad him, or yer life
ain’t wuth shucks,’’ whispered Bixton, in an ecstasy
of terror, and rising with an evident purpose of beat-
ing a hasty retreat, as Montez, with a sudden expres-
sion of rage, threw his hand round to the revolver at
his hip.

But Bixton’s very movement seemed for the mo-
ment to turn Montez’s attention towards himself.

‘Stop, amigo Bixton! Face to the left! Do you at-
tend?”’

‘¢Now don’t go to playin’ no games, Mr. Montez,”’
called Bixton, with a sickly smile, as he mechanically
obeyed, ‘‘fer I’m too old a man——”?

Crack!

Almost simultaneous with the sudden straightening
of Montez’s arm followed the sharp explosion of a re-
volver, cutting short both the attempted expostulation
and the stem of Bixton’s clay pipe, which fell in shat-
tered fragments on the veranda!

Bixton uttering an exclamation of terror, bolted in-
side the door, Montez with a loud laugh, sprang from
his saddle and ran up the veranda steps.

‘‘What think you of that for shooting, eh? One
must have the nerve of steel for it,’’ he said, boast-
fully. Evidently he had forgotten his anger of a mo-
ment ago,

‘¢] don’t think much of trick shooting, any wary,
and yours was by no means gentlemanly.’’

Montez glared at the speaker, who had thus ex-
pressed himself in the coolest of tones, with a species
of stupefaction. Then his anger burst forth:

‘‘Carramba! Do you, the tenderfoot, know to whom
you speak? Me—Montez of the West, with a record
from Denver to ’Frisco! I will teach you the lesson
you need—so!’’

And before Tom realized what was coming, Montez’s
brown fingers had left their marks in a stinging blow
across his cheek.

‘*You, too, need a lesson!’’ exclaimed Tom. And
almost with the words, he clutched Montez in a firm

 
898
grip, pinioning his arms to his sides as though held
there by steel bands.

“Tom? Tom!?? shouted Mr. Bixton from an
window, but his new helper was deaf to the call.

Lifting Montez fuirly from his feet-by an effort of
all his strength, Tom dropped the slight figure of the
Mexican over the veranda rail into the brimming
watering tank beneath.

Bixton’s astonished exclamation was drowned in the
hilarious shouts of some half dozen dust-begrimed pas-
sengers on the outside of the San Juan toach, which
just at that moment drew up in front of the hotel.

‘*Hooray—here’s a circus!’’ yelled an inebriatied
miner, and a general scramble from the top of the
coach ensued,

But Montez did not wait for a
the delighted spectators.
bath, dripping and

open

nearer approach of
Serambling from his watery
mfuriated, he cast one vengeful

look upward at Tom, and then retreated into the house
by a rear door, presumably in search of dry clothing.

CHAPTER II.

FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD.

The stage disgorged a few masculines in a more or
less demoralized state of body and mind after a ninety-
mile drive over the mountainous country.

Part. of them made a tremendous rush for the bar.
Two or three, who were evidently natives of Lodeville,
lingered on the stoop. For Bixton had reappeared, and
in an undertone was narrating the aecount of the
affray for the benefit of the stage-driver and a few
idlers who had assembled at the coming of the coach,

‘Tom, having finished his sweeping, lingered a mo-
ment on the stoop. The echoes of a dozen steam
whistles among the hills bad awakened Lodeville to
temporary life. From every cabin and ‘‘shack’’? eame
roughly clad miners, carrying . pick, shovel and lunch
pail, on their way to relieve the long string of toilers
who could be seen descending the surrounding slopes
by scores.

Tom’s attention was turned from the busy seene by
a remark from one of the bystanders:

‘Him a detective that jest went inter the bar! Looks
more like an undertaker down on his lick. Whatever
can he want, Jim, in sech a respectable, law-abidin’
town as Ladeville, ’specially sense we took the law in
our own han’s?’’

As the laugh raised presumably by the concluding
remark subsided, Jim, the stage driver, drew a
erumpled placard from his pocket and proceeded care-
fully to smooth it out.

‘Oh, nigh’s I can find out, ’ taint nethin’
It’s a young chap what run away from home some-
wheres East, and the detective tracked him to Den-
ver, whar he lost the trail. Now he thinks the feller’s
struek for ’Frisco over this route. But here’s the ad-
vertisement tells all about it.’?’

‘Stick it-on the nail over the
show, so we can all see; news is so searce, with only
one mail a week, that a han’-bill’s better’n nothin’.
Now read it off to us, Bixton.’?

The little group gathered about the landlord,
elearing his throat, began:

eriminal.

bill of that busted

who,

“RIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD!

‘*Mor the apprehension and subsequent return of my
wayward stepson, Thomas Harding Fenwick. Said
Thomas is of a roving-turn of mind, and it is strongly
suspected that he has started for the West. He is near-
ly seventeen, about 5 ft. Zin. in height, weight 150,
uncommonly broad-shouldered and athletic for his
years——’’

‘Let me pass, please.?’

The slight interruption caused by the brushing past
the group of Bixton’s helper was hardly noticed by
the interested listeners, whose eyes were foHowing the
words as they were repeated from the placard. The
reader went on:

‘*Athletic for his years. Said Thomas has regular
features, dark hair inclined to curl, but cut short, and
hazel eyes. On his right arm is tattooed ‘‘Tom’? in a
true lover’s knot——’?

Here Bixton paused very abruptly. His jaw dropped
and he wheeled. suddenly round:

‘*Why—great Scott!’’ he wildly exclaimed, ‘‘it’s my
stable help, ‘Tom, who was just now on the stoop.
Where did he go?’’

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

‘*The young feller that slung the half breed over the
rail? Whilst you was readin’ he moseyed down the
steps, got on the mustang that was standin’ by the
trough, an’ rid round the corner of the buildin’.’?’

‘*Mebbe he tuck the cayuse to the stable,’’ suggested
another.

But Mr. Bixton, filled
only groaned aloud. ‘

‘* He stood there listenin’ all the time, and it’s dol-
lars to cents he’s lit out with Montez’s hoss. An’ if
he has, Monty’1ll about tear the roof off.’’

Hu:rying round to the stable, followed by his now
excited hearers, Bixton found his worst suspicions rea-
lized. The two Mexican helpers, who were rubbing
down the weary stage horses, had noticed Tom ride
past the stable, but naturally supposed he was sent. on
some errand by Bixton. Half a mile distant, the regu-
lar stage thoroughfare from San Juan branched off
on either hand at right angles. One road led to the lit-
tle town of Cottonwood on the sou‘h, the other, which
was a wagon trail, lost itself among a multiplicity of
similar ones diverging to the north. Which of the three
had the fugitive taken?

Well, let us see, it was a sudden impulse that
suggested to Tom that by borrowing Montez’s
tang, he might get a good start in the race
knew would follow his flitting.

For of course Bixton would recognize his description,
and the offered reward was large enough to induce
pursuit. But had he known how trivial an act may be
construed into ‘horse stealing’? in the far West, or of
the short shrift aceorded the accused, Tom would have
thought twice before such an action.

But his idea was to ride as far as
where he had been sent the day before in search of a
strayed bronco. There he purposed leaving the mus-
tang securely lariated, while he himself made his way
on foot elsewhere—in what direction he had not de-
cided, :

‘But who can shun the chance that destiny doth
ordain?’’ Once out of sight of the stable, Tom urged
the mustang to his highest rate of speed till the three
forks were reached,

‘*Indians, by Jove!”

Not warlike of aspect, it is true, but in paint, feath-
ers, and general ugliness of feature, by no means a de-
sirable party to meet toward nightfall in a wild coun-
try.

As Tom came suddenly upon them, he saw that
their ponies were drawn up around some person in the
very middle of the stage road.

A simultaneous ‘‘ Hugh !’’—possibly
disgust—greeted Tom’s appearance. But what was his
astonishment, as he drew rein, to see a girl break
through the circle, and spring swiftly to the side of
bis panting horse.

‘*Thank goodness,’’? she exclaimed energetically.
**Now, those red brutes will not dare torment me any
longer !*?

““Torment. you!’? repeated Tom, with
He naturally associated the word with torture. Yet
this pretty sun-tanned girl, in a riding habit short
enough to show a small, well-booted foot, did not ap-
pear to have suffered—in body at least.

‘Tease me, then—threaten to put me on the saddle
before Blueskin—the fat fellow with the chief’s plame
whois riding this way—and carry me off to San
Juan,’ ‘

‘**T should like to see him do it!’ indignantly ex-
claimed Tom.

‘*So wouldn’t I though.
father a grudge——’’

‘*Hugh! What young white man want my papose???
grunted Blueskin, whose repulsive face was made nug-
her still by a fearful scar extending from his high
cheek bone to his chin.

As he thus called out, followed by the rest of the
party, he rode direetly up to Tom. And despite her
resolute bearing, the girl involuntarily caught Tom/’s
stirrup leather in her small hand. :

‘*Don’t let them come any nearer!
gun???’

Now in Western parlance a ‘‘gun’’ includes any fire-
arn? from a Winchester down to a pocket derringer—
which Tom had not then learned.

“*T haven’t any gun, but——”?’

With a sudden thrill of relief, Tom’s eyes fell upon
the butts of two elaborately mounted revolvers in the

with an awful suspicion,

had
mus-
which he

the three forks,

expressive of

vague alarm,

But old Blueskin owes my

Haven’t you a:

~~

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

holsters of the Mexican saddle. Yo draw and cock
them both was but the work of an instant,

““T’ll trouble you, my red friends, to get out of this
in quick time. Do you hear?’’

The command, if inelegantly expressed, was under
the circumstances excusabie. Repressed excitement
had something to do with it.

Inelegant or not, emphasized as it was by the leveled
weapons, Tom’s meaning was plain enough. Every
man of them had his rifle at his saddle bow, but Lode-
ville was only a couple of miles distant, and its resi-
dents not tolerant of the murder of a white man,

‘“*Hugh! Me see you later, grunted Blueskin. Then,
muttering something in the Indian tongue, the entire
party wheeled their ponies and started in the direction
of Lodeville.

The young girl, who was not much
drew a long breath. Then she spoke:

‘*T got off my pony at the fork to pull down a trum-
pet vine. Those fellows came galloping up the trail
from Cottonwood, yelling and whooping as if they
were on the war path. Bret took fright——

**Bret who? intterrupted Tom, rather bewildered by
the unconventional address of the breezy, bright-eyed
girl of a type entirely new to his experience.

‘**Why, Bret Harte—my pony, of course. And off he
went toward the ranch like a shot. Then Blueskin and
the rest of them got round me. Of course they wouldn’t
dare harm me—Lodeville is too near. But they
crowded around me and frightened me, for I was help-
less, and couldn’t tell what they might take into their
heads. And I’m ever so much obliged to you.’’

*‘Oh, you’re heartily welcome for all I’ve done,
Miss——’?

‘“*Bruton—only every one calls me Dolly. Or
Dolly, I suppose; is more dignified. But look
what are you doing with Montez’s mustang?’’

While she had been speaking, Miss Dolly kept nar-
rowly eyeing the horse by which she was standing. And
all at once she broke out with the question recorded.

Tom was taken tremendously aback at both the ab-
rupt interrogation and the steady gaze, from the clear-
est dark eyes he had ever seen, accompanying it.

He could not at once tell his whole story to a stran-
ger, even if there was time enough, and of this Tom
was by no means sure. Every moment he expected to
hear the approach of a party from Lodeville.

**My name is Tom Fenwick,’’ he said at length,
half desperately. ‘‘I am—lI was, rather—hired help at
Bixton’s in Lodeville. ‘This Montez, as you call him,
picked a quarrel with me this afternoon, and [—I—
threw him over the stoop into the watering
trough——’’

**You—threw Montez! I can hardly believe it!
oh, I m so glad,’’ impetuously interrupted the
e<ig0:on,’?

‘*He went in to get dry things on.
there in the yard. [——”’’

‘*Hark,’’ interrupted
finger.

over sixteen,

Miss

here,

But
zirl.

His horse stood

Miss Dolly, raising her
CHAPTER III.

THE PURSUIT.

Faint in the distance,

but nearing every moment,

came the sound of the expected hoof beats.
**Quick—give me your hand. Steady now! There!’’
Grasping the hand Tom mechanically extended, the

girl placed one small foot on a road bowlder, and
sprang with wonderful ease to a sideways position be-
hind Tom’s saddle.

‘*Por goodness sake, Miss Bruton—what are you go-
ing to do???’ : =

**Save your life, if it’s a possible thing. S-s-s-t—go,
Pedro.’’

The mustang sprang forward with a bound that al-
most unseated Tom, but had no perceptible effect upon
Miss Dolly, who was steadying herself by the rings in
the high back of the saddle. 3 z

**To the left!’ And a touch of the bridle rein sent
the mustang flying along the trail to the northwest
with a speed that almost took Tom’s breath away.

**Don’t you see,’’ panted the girl, ‘‘it’s the same to
Montez—to all of them—as though you’d stolen the
mustang! If he comes up with you you’re a dead man,
for if you’re caught you’ll be hung as a horse thief.’’

“But was meaning to leave the horse fastened at

899

the forks. Then I would have travyeled—where I was
going on foot.’’

‘*Yes—and been hunted down like a coyote next
day. Besides, who would believe that you meant any-
thing of the kind?”’ ,

This was unpleasantly realistic talk, yet doubtless
the girl kuew the ‘‘customs of the country’’ best. And
Tom felt something like a shudder pass over him, as
he was conscious from the sounds that his pursuers
were gaining. ‘‘But you, Miss Dolly—what——’”’

**T?m safe in any event. It would bea bold man in
these parts who would even dare threaten John Bru-
ton’s Dolly. Andif we can only reach the ranch,
father and the boys will see you safe if half Lodeville
was after you.’’

But the mustang was showing signs of flagging un-
der the double load, Then suddenly, simultaneous with
the sharp report of a rifle, whose flash lit up the gath-
ering twilight with a momentary glare, came the
‘‘ning”’ of a bullet striking some distance ahead.

Tom uttered an exclamation and bronght the
tang to a sudden stop.

‘‘Tt isn’t for myself—but do you think I’m
coward as to put your life in danger?’’ he
springing from the saddle. And before the girl could
reply, Tom’s strong hands, clasping her supple wais6,
had swung her like a feather to the ground,

‘“‘One thing I Want to say,’’ said Tom, hurriedly,
‘‘that is, 1?m as innocent of intention of stealing a
horse as I am of—flying,’’ he added rather vaguely.
** And I want you to believe it, Miss Dolly.”’

‘‘Indéed I do,’’ was the prompt reply. ‘‘You’re of
different make from a horse thief—any one can see that
with half an eye. And keep up good heart,’’ said this
extraordinary young girl. ‘‘17ll stand by you, and,
when I tell him the whole thing, so will father. I’)
send him up to Lodeville in the morning.’’

‘*God_ bless you ‘or that—and all,’’ returned poor
Tom, who had hard work to keep a courageous front,
as a dozen armed horsemen came up at full speed, evi-
dently bent on business. ;

At their head was Montez, who covered Tom
his Winchester.

‘*Surrender—pig of a horse thief,’’ he yelled.

‘Ah, that isso like you, Montez, drawing on
unarmed man who has already surrendered. ’*

Entirely unmoved by the chorused exclamations of
astonishment, Dolly stepped forward and ‘deliberately
pushed the muzzle of the rifie to one side, as she thus
spoke:

‘‘Mees Bruton,’? and Montez’s sombrero flew from
his head instantly, while at the same moment he
jumped to the ground, as the otbers with rough cere-
mony seized upon Tom, and, having tied his hands he-
hind him, mounted him upon the horse which had been
ridden by Montez.

‘*But how is it that you should be here
low—this brigand of horses??? Mo
a darkening face.

‘‘It is no great mystery,’’ returned the girl coolly,
‘*Bret ran away while J was picking flowers, and left
me in the lurch. And the brigaud, as you call him,
had no more idea of stealing your horse than 1 have—
which you probably know very well.’’

‘*Hyar’s your pony, Miss Dolly; some of the boys
from the ranch is bringing cof him back,’’ interrupted
one of the company And half a dozen mounted cow-
boys rode up from ] n, leading a

mus-

such a
exclaimed,

with

with this fel-
utez went on with

the opposite directio
sturdy looking Indian pony.

Dolly was in her side-saddle in a moment,

‘*Good-night, Mr Fenwick,’’ she called out in clear,
even tones, ‘‘I’ll send father up to see you to-morrow,
so don’t worry about this matter. It was only a mis-
take on your part.’’

‘Tt shall be one bad mistake for him, though,”
dictively hissed Montez loud enough to be heard,

‘“*Ah, without doubt, if you have the say in Lode-
ville,’’? returned Dolly, spiritedly. ‘‘But you know
there’s a few left there who believe in seeing justice
done, and an innocent man won’t be condemned mere-
ly to gratify your spite, Senor Montez.’?

With this retort Dolly started on her homeward way
accompanied by her escort. ¥

Montez mounted his recovered mustang a moment
later, and the party, with Tom in their midst, made
their way to Lodeville.

The ‘‘lockup,’’ to which Tom was consigned for the
night, was a strongly built square log structure, with
one grated window high up from the ground, and a

vine

 
$00
door secured with a big padlock. A rough stool, table
and rude bunk filled with straw composed the interior
furnishing. Abundance of air anda goodly share of
moonlight was admitted through the chinks between
the logs.

Tom rolled bimself in the rough blankets and turned
in without feeling so much anxiety for the morrow as
might be expected. He was new to the ‘‘Wild West.’’

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

The expression be had heard used on Bixton’s stoop—
‘sence we took the law in our own han’s,’’? bad no
significance for him. He was not aware that in Lode-
ville, as in many mining towns, there was a brutal ele-
ment, controlled by such reckless, half civilized
tures as Montez, which had things pretty much their
own way. :
[TO BE CONTINUED.]

OSA OAL ALLL

DEAN DUNHAM;

OR, THE WATERFORD MYSTERY. &

By HORA TIO ALGER, }4,;
Author of “The $500 Check,’’ ete.

(Copyrighted, American Publishers’ Corporation.)

™~' Wh NS) WAS NAS, SW (IG WI (FIG WWD SL NWLT QL)
ANGSONGAANONGONGNGNANGONGONGNGANAKK
Zaye eve Aes DYelr De Nee ONele Aer Aye Nee Ve Ae AVE NG:

(‘DEAN DUNHAM” was commenced in No,10. Back numbers can

CHAPTER XXX.
DEAN FINDS HIMSELF IN A HOLE.

AN seemed to himself to have slept not
more than an hour, though in reality sev-
eral hours passed, when he was aroused
by being shaken not over gently.

‘‘Time to get up?’’ he asked drowsily.
‘*Yes, it’s time to get up,’’? answered a

J rough voice.

Now he opened his eyes wide, and he saw Kirby
looking down on him. At a flash all came back to him,
‘and he realized his position.

He rose from his pallet and asked,
face and hands?’’

‘*No; there 1s no time for it. Follow me!”’

Rightly coneluding that it would he useless to ques-
tion Kirby, Dean followed him to the lower floor,
where Dan had already seated himself at the break-
fast table. In obedience toa signal Dean sat down
also, and ate with what appetite he could the repast
spread before him. In addition to cold meat and bread
there was what passed for coffee, though it probably
was not even distantly related to the fragrant bever-
age which we know by that name. Dean drank it,
however, not without relish, for it was at least hot.

Fifteen minutes sufficed for breakfast, and then Dan
and Kirby left the cabin, motioning to Dean to follow.

Outside the cabin Kirby said, ‘‘Have you a hand-
kerchief???

‘¢Yes,’? answered Dean, wondering why such a ques-
tion should be asked.

“Give it to me!’’

Dean mechanically obeyed.

Kirby took it, and, folding it, tied it over Dean’s
eyes.

hte we going to play blind man’s buff?’’ asked
Dean. : :

‘“Yes,’? answered Kirby, grimly, ‘‘and you are the
blind man.’’

‘*T should like to know what you have done this
for?’’ said Dean, more seriously.

“ft ean’t answer your question,
come to you if you keep quiet.
a walk with us.’’ j

‘* And you don’t want meto know where you are-
taking me.”’

‘*Can I wash my

but no harm will
You are going to take

e obtained from all newsdealers.)

poe hit it right the first time, youngster,’’ said
an.

‘*T suppose it’s no use to resist,’’? said Dean, firmly,
‘‘but I must say that you have no right to take away
my freedom.’’

‘*You can say it if you want to, but it won’t make
any difference.’’

‘*What are you going to do with me?’?

‘*You’ll know in time.’’

Dan and Kirby ranged themselves one on each side
of Dean, and he was walked off between them. He
asked one or two questions, but was admonished to
keep silence. So they walked for twenty minutes, or
perhaps half an bour, when Dan left his side, and
Dean was compelled to halt in the custody of Kirby.

“It’s all ready !’’ said Dan, reappearing. Again he
took Dean by the arm, and they walked forward per-_
haps a dozen paces.

Then Kirby said, ‘‘Here are some steps.’’ j

Dean found himself descending a flight of steps—ten
in number, for he took the trouble to count them. He
was getting more and more mystified, and would have
given a good Ceal to remove the handkerchief that
bandaged his eyes, but it was impossible to do it even
surreptitiously, for both arms were pinioned by his
guides. At the end of the flight of steps they came
again to level ground, and walked forward perhaps a
hundred feet. Dean suspected from the earthly odor
that they were under the ground. He soon learned that
his supposition was correct, for his guides halted, and
loosened their hold upon his arms, ;

‘*You can remove the handkerchief now,’’ said Kirby.

Dean lost no time in availing himself of this permis-
sion.

He looked around him eagerly.

He found himself in what appeared to be not a _nat-
ural, but an artificial cave—dark, save for the light of
a kerosene lamp, which was placed ona little rocky
shelf, and diffused a sickly light about the cellar. At
the end of the room there was a passage leading, as it
seemed, to some inner apartment.

Dean looked about in surprise.

‘*What place is this?’’ he asked.

“You may call it a cave if you hke.”’

‘*How long are you going to stay here?’

‘*A bout five minutes.’?

“That will be enough for me,’? said Dean,
ging his shoulders.

 

na-
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

‘¢Hardly. You are to stay longer.”’

‘tAre you going to leave me here—under the earth?’’
asked Dean, in alarm.

*¢Don’t you be scared, youngster—you will be safe.
You won’t be alone. Here, Pompey.’’

Through the inner passage came a stunted negro,
with a preternaturally large head, around which was

inned a cotton cloth in the shape of a turban. He
owed obsequiously, and eyed Dean with evident curi-
osity mingled with surprise.

‘“This boy has come to visit you,
Kirby, with grim pleasantry.

“Yah, yah, massa!’’ chuckled Pompey, showing the
whites of his eyes.

«You must take good care of him. Give him some-
thing to eat when he is hungry, but don’t let him
escape.’

**Y ah, massa !’’

‘*He will ask you questions, but you must be careful
what you tell him. Remember, heis not one of us,
and he mustn’t learn too much.’’

*¢Yah, massa! I understand. What’s his name?’’

**Dean.’?

**Dat’s a funny name. I never heard the like.’’

**Yes, you have. Dan’s like it.’?

‘So it am, massa! Dat’s a fac’.’’

(Now, youngster, Iam going to leave you in the
company of Pompey bere, who will do his best to
make you comfortable and happy.”

“‘When are you coming back for me?’’ asked Dean,
apprehensively.

**Well, that depends upon circumstances. You’d bet-
ter not trouble yourself about that. Perhaps in a
week, perhaps in a month. In the meantime you will
have free board, and won’t have to work for a _ living.
There are a good many who would like to change
places with you.”’

“Tf you meet any

Pompey,’’ said

such, send them along,’’ said

Dean, with a jocoseness that thinly veiled a feeling -

bordering upon despair.

‘Ha, ha! That’s a good one. Dan, our young friend
is becoming a practical joker. That’s right, young
one. Keep up good courage. I must bid you good-by
now. Come along, Dan.’’

The two turned away, and Dean with despairing eyes

saw them going back to freedom and the light of day,

while he was left in the company of an ignorant black
in a subterranean dungeon.

‘Law,
naturedly.

**T should think harm had come to me.
shut up in this black hole!’’

‘¢ ?Tain’t so bad, honey, when you’re used to it. I
didn’t like it first myself.?’

‘*How long have you lived down here?”?

‘tT can’t justly say.’

‘*Is it a year, or a month?’’

*‘T can’t say, young massa,’’ answered Pompey, who
was evidently bent on carrying out Kirby’s admoni-
tions not to tell too much to his young guest.

‘*When did you come hyah?’? asked Pompey,
ing it only fair that he should ask a question.

**Into this neighborhood? I only came yesterday.”’

‘*And where did you meet Massa Kirpy???

‘*At the cabin of the other man—Dan. But I had
seen him before. I met him first at the East, in New
York State.’?

‘*In York State!’’ repeated Pompey.

‘‘Yes. We traveled together for a while.’’

Pompey nodded his head slowly, but evidently he
had no very clear idea of what it all meant.

“*Are you hungry, young massa??’ he asked, after a
pause.

‘“No; I have had my breakfast.’?

**IT must go to work,’’ said the negro, turning to go
back by the narrow passage from which he had
emerged.

“May I go with you?’’

‘*Yes, young massa, if you waut to.’’

Anything was better than being left alone in the
dark, cavernous room, and Dean followed the negro,
who was so short that he could readily look over his
head, till a& the end of the passage he emerged into
another apartment, which was fitted up asa kitchen,
aid contained a stove. From the stove rose an up-
right funnel, which pierced the roof, providing a vent
for the smoke when there was a fire, and allowing air
to come in from above. It flashed upon Dean that it
was through this funnel had come the mysterious

honey, don’t take on!’’ said Pompey, good
‘*There ain’t no harm comin’ to you.’’
Here am [

think-

‘of a band so

901

sounds which puzzled him so much when he was re-
clining in the wood.

CHAPTER XXXI,
THE VALUE OF A HARMONICA.

About the middle of the forenoon Pompey curled up
on a pallet in one corner of the room, and went to
sleep. There was nothing in particular to do, and it
seenied rather a sensible way of spending the time.
Dean, however, felt too anxious to follow his example.

It occurred to him that it would be a good time for
him to gratify his curiosity by examining the cavern
in which he was immured, and devise, if possible, some
method of escape. First he went up clase to Pompey,
and examined him carefully to see whether he was
really asleep, or only shamming. But the negro’s deep
breathing soon satisfied him that there was no sham
about his slumber. So Dean felt at liberty to begin his
exploration.

He went back to the entrance, which he knew by
the staircase he had descended with Kirby and Dan.
He mounted to the top, and found his way barred by
a trap-door which he tried, but unsuccessfully, to
raise. It appeared to be secured by a lock, and, not
having the key, there was no hope of escape. He gazed
ruefully at this door, which shut him out from lib-
erty.

“*{ wonder if there is any other
cave,’’ he asked himself.

It didn’t seem probable, but it was of course possi-
ble, and worth while to investigate. If there were it
would be at the other end, no doubt.

He retraced his steps, and found Pompey still fast
asleep, and utterly unconscious of the movements of
the prisoner under his charge.

Dean took a lamp and went farther into the cave.
There seemed to be a series of excavations, connected
by narrow passages. In one of these was a large box,
constructed like a sailor’s chest. It occurred to bim
that it might belong to Pompey, and be used by him
to contain his clothing. But a little thought suggested
that the negro was not likely to have a large stock of
clothes. Probably the suit he had on was about all he
possessed. What, then, did the chest contain?

At each end wasa handle. Dean took hold of one
and tried to lift the chest. But he foundit very heavy,
much heavier than it would have been had it contained
clothing.

He rose to his feet and eyed it with curiosity. There
was nothing elaborate about the lock, and it struck
Dean that a key which he had in his pocket might pos-
sibly unlock it. Upon the impulse of the moment he
kneeled down and inserted it in the lock.

Very much to his surprise, and indeed it did seem
an extraordinary chance, for it was the only key he
had, it proved to fit the lock. He turned it, and raised
the lid. The sight dazzled him.

Before him lay piles of gold and silver coins, and a
package of bank bills. This cave was evidently the
store house of an organized band of robbers, and the
chest might be considered their treasury.

‘I wonder if this is real,’’? thought Dean. ‘‘It seems
like a scene in the Arabian Nights.’?’

It did indeed seem strange that this far cff nook of
Colorado should be the rendezvous and treasure house
widely scattered that the captain wasa
quiet citizen of a small town in the state of New York,
nearly two thousand miles away.

How improbable it would have seemed to the citi-
zens of Waterford, among whom Squite Bates moved,
living in outward seeming the life of any other respect-
able and law-abiding citizen! This was the Waterford
mystery, which by a series of remarkable adventures
it had fallen to Dean to solve.

He locked the chest, fearing that Pompey might
suddenly awake, and, following, discover what he was
about. He wanted some time to think over this strange
discovery, and consider what to do. To be sure, there
seemed little chance of his doing anything except to
remain where he was, a subterranean prisoner.

Dean felt more than ever a desire to leave the cave,
but the prospect was not encouraging. Why he was
kept a prisoner he could guess. He knew too much of
the band, and especially of their leader, and he was
considered dangerous. His imprisonment might be a
prolonged one, and Dean felt that this would be intol-
erable.

It was in a very sober frame that he returned to the

way out of the

 
902

room where Pompey was still sleeping. An hour later
the negro awoke and stretched himself.

‘Have I been asleep long, young massa?’’ he asked.

‘“T'wo or three hours, | should think, Pompey.’’

‘*Dat’s strange! Lonly just closed my eyes for a
minute, and I done forgot myself.’’

‘*You might as well. go to sleep.
else to do,’?

‘‘T must get some dinner,
hungry???

‘i might eat something,’’ said Dean, listlessly.

Pompey bustled round, and prepared a lunch, to
which Dean, homesick as he was, did not fail to do
justice. It takes a great deal to spoil the appetite of a
growing boy.

After the noon repast Dean sat down. He was begin-
ning to find the monotony intolerable.

‘*Have you got any books down here, Pompey?’’ he
asked.

Pompey shook his head.

‘*No use for books, young massa.

‘*$ But Tcan,??

‘*Perhaps Massa Kirby wall bring you
ask him.?? ;

Dean did not care to ask any favor of Kirby. More-
cver he knew that that gentleman was not particular-
ly literary, and doubted if he was in a position to
grant the request.

By way of beguiling the time he took out his
mouica in an absent mood, and began to play
Folks at. Home.’’

{ustantly Pompey was on the alert. His eyes bright-
ened, and he fixed ‘them in rapture upon the young
player.

‘*What’s dat, young massa?’’ he asked.

‘‘That’s a harmonica,’?

‘*You do play beau’ful, young massa.’’

‘*Thank you, Pompey, I am glad you like it.”’

‘*Play some more,’’ entreated Pompey.

Dean complied with the negro’s request, partly be-
sause he was obliging, partly because it helped to fill
up the time. He could scarcely forbear laughing to see
Pompey rocking to and for with his mouth open, drink-
ing in the melodious strains. Nature had given Pom-
music, and he began to

There’s nothing

honey. Don’t you feel

I can’t read.’?

some if you

har-
‘Old

pey a rapt appreciation of

croon a vocal accompaniment to the instrument.
‘¢Who learn you to play, young massa?’’ he asked.
‘*T taught myself. It isn’t hard.’?’

‘*Dat’s because you’re white. A poor nigger like me
couldn’t learn,’’? said Pompey half inquiringly.

‘tOh, yes, you could, I see you have an ear for
music. Would you like to try?’’

‘*Tf you would let me.’’

Dean handed the negro the harmonica, and gave
him the necessary directions. In the course of half an
hour he was able to play through ‘‘Old Folks at
Home,’’ with substantial accuracy.

‘*T wish 1 had a harmonicum,’’ said Pompey,...wist-
fully. “‘‘It would make old Pompey happy.’’

An idea came into Dean’s head—a wild, perhaps an
impracticable idea, but he resolved to carry it out, if
possible.

‘¢Pompey,’? he said, ‘‘Vll give you the harmonica
if you’ll let me out of the cave.”?

Pompey rolled his eyes in affright.

‘*Couldn’t do it no how, young massa,’’ he
‘‘Massa Kirby would kill me.’’

‘*He’d think I got away when you were asleep,
Pompey. Come, I’ll show you two or three more tunes
on the instrument, and you can learn others your-
self.”*

‘*} don’t dare to, young massa,’’ said Pompey, but
there was a suspicion of indecision in his voice.

‘*Very well, then, give me back the harmonica. I
will never play any more upon it,’’

*fOh, young massa !”’

‘*T mean what I say, Pompey’’—and Dean put the
harmonica in his pocket.

Pompey eyed him with a troubled look. He was evi-
dently weighing the matter in his mind.

‘tf I thought Massa Kirby wouldn’t kill me,’’ he
said reflectively.

Dean upon this redoubled his persuasions. He played
another tune on the harmonica—‘‘Sweet Home’’—with
variations, and this completed the conquest of his
sable custodian,

‘*Tl) do it, young massa,’’? said Pompey, hoarsely.
‘*Give me the harmonicum, and I?ll take the risk.’

Dean did not want to give him time for reflection.

said.

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY.

He seized his hat, and handed Pompey the instrument.

The negro guided him, not to the front entrance
which he already knew, but toa back exif which he
had overlooked. Here there was a door skilfully con-
cealed on the outside. Pompey. drew out a key, opened
it, and with infinite relief Dean again saw the sun-
shine and breathed the air of freedom.

‘*Good-by, Pompey!’? he said. ‘‘I thank you with all
my beart,’?

‘¢Tf Massa Kirby cotch you, don’t you tell him I let
you go,’’ said Pompey, hoarsely.

“"No, I won’t, Pompey, but I don’t mean to let him
catch me,??

The door closed behind him, and Dean paused to con-
sider what course to take. He must at all hazards
avoid falling in with Kirby and Dan.

‘*That harmonica is worth its weight in gold!”
thought Dean, gratefully: ‘‘It is a regular talisman.’

CHAPTER XXXII.
TWO NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

Dean had no particular choice as to the direction he
would take. His principal desire was to get out of the
neighborhood so as to avoid meeting Kirby or Dan, as
this would insure a second term of imprisonment from
which he could not hope to escape so easily. He had a
general idea of the location of the cabin in which he
had passed the previous night, and be shaped his course
as far away from it as possible. He looked at his
watch, which Kirby had neglected to take, and found
that it was between four and five in the afternoon. He
did not know how far the wooded district extended,
but hoped soon to emerge from it.

{t might have been that he was bewildered, but the
farther he traveled the more he seemed to be sur-
rounded by trees. Moreover the shades were deepen-
ing, and soon the night would settle about him,

‘‘T. wish I had a compass,’’ thought Dean. ‘‘That
would help me find my way out of this labyrinth.”’

He had met no one as yet, and this was upon the
whole a relief, as the persons most likely to be encount-
ered were Kirby and Dan. But at length a sound of
voices fell upon his ear, and he stayed his steps in mo-
mentary alarm. He listened intently, but was reas-
sured when he found that the voices were unfamiliar,

‘*It may be some one who can show me the way out
of these woods,*’ thought Dean. ‘‘At any rate I don’t
believe they will harm a boy. I will try to find them.??

Guided by the voices he directed his steps in the di-
rection of the sound, and found himself at length in
an open space. Under a tree reclined two stalwart men
who, from their garb, appeared to be miners. They
were lying in an easy position, and both were smoking
pipes.

‘*Good afternoon, gentlemen,’’ said Dean, politely.

The two men looked up in surprise.

‘‘Why, it’s a kid!’ ejaculated one. ‘‘How came you
here, boy???

‘Pll tell you, if you don’t.mind my joining you,’?
said Dean.

‘*Come and weleome! It’s rather refreshing to see
a young chap like you, I’ve got a boy at home who
is within a year or two as old as you.’?

*¢T am sixteen.’’

‘*So I thought.
name???

‘*Dean
‘Yorke?

‘Phen you are from my State. Iam from Syracuse.
My name is Rawson—Ben Rawson. My friend here is
Kbenezer Jones, commonly called Eben; a Connecti-
cut Yankee—-Hben, shake with our young friend.”’

‘‘Tam glad to meet you, Mr. Jones,’’ said Dean, ox-
tending his hand with a smile.

*“You must look out for Eben,’’ said Rawson,
jocosely. ‘Them Connecticut Yankees are as sharp as
they make ’em.’’

“*E will risk it,?’ said Dean. ‘‘i1 am very glad to
meet you both, for I was beginning to feel that I was
lost.??

‘*Hben and I are too good mountaineers to be easily
lost. How long have you been in these woods???

‘‘Since yesterday noon.’’

‘*Did you sleep out?’?

‘*No, [ found a eabin where I lodged.’’

‘*You were in luck,’

‘*In bad luck,”’

My boy is fourteen. What is your

Dunham. I come from Waterford, New.

 
ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY

‘*How is that??? asked Rawson in ‘*Were
you robbed???

‘*No, but I found myself in the company of two men
who I am pretitiy sure belong to a gang of robbers. One

_of them I had seen before—at the Hast. They  blind-
folded me, and took me to a cavern, where they, left
in charge of a negro named Pompey.’’
What could be their object?’’ asked Rawson.. ‘‘You
are sure you’re not romanting, boy???

‘*I wish I were, but the cave exists, just as certainly
Boel ao?

‘But of what use is it???’

**T think it is the hiding-place for their booty,’’ an-
swered Dean, and he gave an account of the chest
which he had opened, and the nature of its contents.

‘*Why didn’t you take a handful of the gold?’’ asked
Rawson.

‘*At the time [ didn’t know but I should have to re-
main in the cave, when of course it would be discov-
ered on me. Besides, though I knew it to be stolen
property I didn’t feel like taking it,’

‘*Hben and I wouldn’t be so particular, Whereabouts
is this cave?’’

‘*I think it must be three or four miles away, but I
may be mistaken, for I got’ turned round, and may
have doubled on my tracks. I have been afraid I might
fallin with Kirby and Dan. When I heard your
voices I thought at first it might be them,’’

‘*¥ou’re safe now, lad. We would be more than a
match for them, even if they did turn up. I shouldn’t
mind giving them a lesson. But you haven’t told us
what brought you out here, lad.’’

“T thought I might make a better living than at
home.’?

*“‘And have you?’’

**So far I have, but my prospects don’t appear to be
very bright just now.’?

‘Don’t be too sure of that. Suppose you join us.’

‘*T shall be glad to do so, if you will let me.’’

‘Then we'll shake hands to our better acquaintance.
I’d offer you a pipe if I had an extra one,”?

“Thank you; I don’t smoke,’

**Well, Ind, perhaps you’re right. Smoking won’t do
any good to a boy like you.’’

“Tf I am to join you would
your plans???

‘Of course Iwill. We’re miners, as you might guess
from our looks. We’ve been up in Gilpin County, and
have done pretty well, We’ve got some claims there
yet, but we wanted a change and have been on a little
prospecting tour.??

‘*Have you had good luck???’

**In prospecting? No! We are on our way back, and
shall settle down to work again all the better for our

_holiday.’’

surprise.

you mind telling me

‘*How long have you been out here?’’ asked Dean.

‘*I’?ve been here fourteen months—EHben for a year.
We never met before, but we-concluded to join forces,
and haven’t regretted it, eh—Hben?’’

‘*Right you are, Rawson.’?

‘*Hiben here has a girl at home that’s
him. When he has made his pile
her.??

‘*And how about you, Mr. Rawson???

‘*Never mind about the handle to my name,
ster. Call me Ben.’’

‘*But you are so much older than I,’’ objected Dean.

‘*We’re free and easy out here—it’s the best way.
When we get back to the Hast you may call me Mr.
Rawson if you want to. Isay, Eben, if we take the
boy into partnership, he ought to have some capital,’’

‘*T am sorry that 1 can’t putin any capital,’’ said
Dean. ‘‘Besides this watch I haven’t over five dollars
about me.’’

‘*You misunderstand me, lad. I mean that Ehen and
I should set you up in business. We've got six claims
—between us. What do you say, Eben, to giving this
boy two? Then we shall be equal partners, and share
and share alike,’’

‘*Tt’s just as you say, Ben,’? answered Eben, who
was evidently guided in ali things by his older com-
panion.

‘¢You are very generous, Ben,’’ said Dean, ‘‘but I
ought not to accept such a gift. If you don’t mind
giving me one, I will take it, and thank you,’?

‘No, lad,’? persisted Rawson. ‘‘It’s share and share
alike, as I said.’’

‘*But I ought not to be on equal terms with you two,
who have others to look out for.’?

‘*You won’t be, lad—Eben andI have each got a
pile salted down in one of the banks in Denver. It’s
near five thousand dollars apiece, isn’t it, Eben???

‘Yes, not far from that, Rawson.’’

‘*We will share alike for the future—that’s what I
mean. There’s more gold where the other came:from,
and I hope the claims will pan out well for your
sake.’?

Dean felt that he had indeed fallen into good hands.
He might have traveled far enough in the Hast with-
out meeting strangers so free-handed. Indeed had he
met the same parties at home, he would scarcely have
found them so liberal. The wild, free life of the West
had opened their hearts and made them generous.

‘*Hist!?? said Rawson suddenly, raising his hand,
and assuming an intent look, ‘‘I think I hear
voices,’

He was right. Two men, walking slowly, and ap--
pearing to be in earnest conversation, approached.

‘*Tt’s Dan and Kirby !’? said Dean in excitement.

(LO BE CONTINUED. )

waiting for
he’s going back to

young-

 

 
KLONDIKE GOLD

DIGGING.

 

SHEWELL FORD.

 

OR tue benefit of those who are not going to

the sold fields and who have never been in

a gold country, yet who read with absorb-

ing interest about the men who do go and

pile up fortunes in a few months, it may

be well to tell how the far away prospect-

ors wring from the jealous earth its gold.

all the gold which has been taken from the

Yukon region has beeu found in alluvial deposits—that

is, it has been found mixed with gravel and° dirt

along the banks of small streams. Geologists tell us

that it is there because it has been washed down from

surrounding hills and mountains where it has formerly

been held in a vise-like grip by layers of quartz. These
gravel beds are called placers.

All the placer miner needs isa pick such as street
laborers use, an iron shovel and a shallow pan. Any
kind of a pan would do. In fact, placer mining on a
small scale could be carried on by aman with a tin
wash-basin or even a pie-plate. The average miner,
however, carries a shallow pan about as large but not
as deep as an ordinary dishpan. It is usually made of
copper for the sake of durability. >

After he has broken up the ground with a pick he
puts two or three shovelfuls into nis pan. Then he
needs water, and for this reason placer mining must be
done near a small stream or river, but fortunately for
the miner the placers are usually located in just that
position. Dipping his pan into the water, he allows
the earth to dissolve. Then he carefully pours out the
muddy water.

By repeating this process several times he has left a
lot of gravel and black sand. Filling the pan with clean
water once more, he dexteriously whirls and tilts it so
that little by little both are spilled over the edge,
The gold will not spill out because it is too heavy. At
the end of ten or fifteen minutes, if he is working pay
dirt, he will have left in the bottom of his pan a very
small quantity of gold. Some of it will be as fine as
the finest sand, while there will be a few particles
which will range in size all the way from bird shot up
to peas. Any particles much larger than this are
called nuggets.

But the amateur miner, even when working in rich
dirt, would probably be surprised and disappointed at
the small quantity of dust which his first pan would
produce. His disappointment would cease as soon as
he fully realized the value of his gold, for it is truly a
most precious metal. If at the end of his clean-up he
finds in his pan as much dust as he can take up on
the blade of a small penknife, he may consider himself
richly rewarded, for it will be worth about five dollars.
An ounce of gold, it must, be remembered, is worth
about twenty dollars.

In miners’ parlance any earth which will yield ten
cents’ worth of gold to the pan is known as ‘‘pay
dirt.’? Up on the Klondike the lowest yield to the pan
yet reported has been 30 cents, and from that it runs
up to $100 a pan and in exceptional cases more. A
man can wash out about 40 panfuls in a day. Un-
doubtedly it must’ be fascinating and exciting work
when for each quarter of an hour’s labor the miner
sees his horde of dust increased by from.$1 to $50. But,
on the other hand, picture to yourself the poor pros-
pector who is searching for a good claim or working a
worthless one. It must be back-breaking work to wash
out panful after panful of earth and to find at the bot-
tom not a trace of the glittering yellow metal.

When a miner does get a good claim, however, he
is usually not contented to stick to the copper pan.
He wants to get his gold out faster, and so he takes the
trouble to adopt some of the improved methods. He
builds or buys a rocker or cradle. This is just what
its name implies—a box set on rockers. The top is

¥

open, and several inches down in if is set a coarse
sieve. Below the sieve are several shelves of carpeting
set at an angle so that to get to the bottom the water
which is poured in at the top must flow over them.
The bottom of the box is set on a slight incline, and
on it are nailed several cleats or riffles.

Into the top of the rocker the miner shovels his dirt,
Then he pours in water and slowly rocks it, The small
stones are caught by the sieve, but the dirt and gold
are washed through. As the muddy water flows over
the layers of carpet the fine particles of gold dust ave
caught in the nap of the cloth, while the larger pieces
fall to the bottom and lodge against the cleats. ‘Lhe
sieve is lifted out, the gravel dumped and the process
repeated. At the end of the day’s work the strips of
carpet are dried and then beaten carefully on a paper
or sheet to knock out the precious dust. The sand
which has accumulated on the bottom of the cradle. is”
carefully scraped into a pan and washed. With a.
rocker one man can wash as much dirt ina day as ten
men using pans,

If he is a good carpenter, he can take advantage of
a still more elaborate apparatus and greatly increase
his product. A sluice-box or a tom and riffle box
works on the same principle. They require streams of
running water, and sometimes the miner niust dam up
a small creek to get the required head. Then there is
hydraulic mining, which is only a scientific applica-
tion of the same principle. Instead of shoveling the
dirt ina box a strong stream of water is thrown
against a gravel bank, and contrivances for catehing
the gold are arranged in the path of the water as it
runs away.

Until'the country is developed much more than it
is now the simpler methods of placer mining will be
employed on the Klondike. Indeed, in that climate it
will be impossible to use hydraulic apparatus for
more than a brief period each year. This, however, is
only one of the problenis which the experienced gold
hunters who are now flocking into the region will
have to solve. :

Quartz mining differs greatly from placer mining.
It requires capital and favorable conditions. . Tn
quartz mining the gold is found imbedded in the solid
ribs of the mountain ranges. To get it out of mother
earth’s strong box shafts have to be sunk in the rock
and the masses of stone broken into small chunks.
Tbese chunks in turn are crushed toa fine powder,
which is treated in various ways to Separate the

old.

The crushing is done by expensive machinery in what
are known as stamp mills, where great hammers drop
in rapid succession on the ore. Fron) the stamp-mills
the crushed mass is takén to the sinelters, where heat
and chemicals are used to separate the baser from the
precious metal.

Perhaps the most interesting

: methods is a compara-
tively recent one, which is known as the cyanide pro-

cess. In this the ore is crushed to powder and then
dumped iuto great steel vats filled vith a strong solu-
tion of cyanide of potassium. The cyanide dissolves the
gold, and the refuse settles to the bottom. Then the
auriferous solution is poured over tanks filled with
fine zinc shavings. The gold is deposited on the zine
and the cyanide drawn off. Then the gold covered zine
is melted, and the yellow metal at last comes out in its
free state,

If the feeders of the Yukon have washed down such
immense quantities of gold, some of the precious metal
must still be left under the icy caps of the niountains,
and it may be that in the near future the Stamp-mills,
the smelters and the cyanide vats will be employed in
gleaning the golden harvest from these frozen fields of
the northwest. %

 
. ~~ RULES AND REGULATIONS

Governing the Admission of Candidates Into the

Military and Naval

Academies as Cadets.

(Compiled from Official Documents, )

 

 

UNITED STATES MILITARY ACADEMY.

Hach Congressional District and Territory—also
the District of Columbia—is entitled to have one
cadet at the Academy. Ten are also appointed at
large. The appointments (except those at large) are
made by the Secretary of War at the request of the
Representative or Delegate in Congress from the Dis-
trict or Territory; and the person appointed must be
an actual resident of the District or Territory from
which the appointment is made. The appointments at
latge are specially conferred by the President of the
United States.

Manner of making applications.—Applications can
be made at any time, by letter to the Secretary of
War, to have the name of the applicant placed upon

_the register, that it may be furnished to the proper

epresentative or Delegate, when a vacancy occurs.
The application must exhibit the full name, date of
birth, and permanent abode of the applicant, with the
number of the Congressional district in which his resi-
dence is situated.

Date of appointments.—Appointments are required
by law to be made one year in advance of the date of
admission, except in cases where, by reason of death
-or other cause, a vacancy occurs which can not be
provided for by such appointment in advance. These
vacancies are filled in time for the next annual exami-
nation,

Alternates. —The Representative or Delegate in Con-
gress may nominate a legally qualified Second candi-
date, to be designated the alternate. The alternate
will receive from the War Department a letter of ap-
pointment, and will be examined with the regular ap-
pointee, and if duly qualified will be admitted to the
Academy in the event of the failure of the principal to
pass the prescribed preliminary examinations. The
alternate will not be allowed to deter his reporting
for examination until the result of the examination of

the regular appointee is known, but must report at the

time designated in his letter of appointment. The al-
ternate, like the nominee, should be designated as
nearly one year in advance of date of admission as
possible.

Candidates upon receiving their conditional appoint-
ments, will be instructed to appear for mental and
physical examination before Boards of Army Officers
fo be convened at such places as the War Department
may select on the first day of March annually (except
when that day comes on Sunday, in which case the
examination will commence on the following Tuesday).
The candidates who pass successfully will be admitted
to the Academy, in the following June.

Candidates selected to fill the vacancies unprovided
for at the examinations held in March, will be in-
structed to report at West Point, for mental and physi-
cal examination early in June. No candidate will he
examined at any other time, unless prevented from
presenting himself by sickness, or some other unavoid-
able cause, in which case he will be examined during
the last week in August.

Immediately after reporting to the superintendent
for admission, and before receiving his warrant of ap-
pointment, the candidate is required to sign an engage-
ment for servize in the following form, iu the presence
fe the Superintendent or of some officer .deputed by

im:

I,—-—— ——— , of the State (or Terrritory) of —-~—,
aged ——— years ——-- months, do hereby engage
(with the consent of my parent or guardian) that,
from the date of my admission as a cadet of the
United States Military Academy, I will serve in the
Army of the United States for eight years, unless
sooner discharged by comvetent authority.

‘In the presence of ——— ——— :
(TO BE CONTINUED.)

UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY.

NOMINATION,

I. The students at the Naval Academy shall be styled
Naval Cadets.—(Rev. Stat., Sec, 1512, and act of
Congress approved August 5, 1882.)

II. There shall be allowed at said Academy one
Naval Cadet for every Member or Delegate of the
House of Representatives, one for the District of Co-
lumbia, and ten at large.—(Rev. Stat., Sec. 1518, and
act of Congress approved June 17, 1878.) Provided,
however, That there shall not be at any time more in
said Academy appointed at large than ten. (Act of
Congress approved August 5, 1882.)

III. The course of Naval Cadets is six years.— (Rev.
Stat., Sec. 1520.) Four years at the Naval Academy
and two years at sea, at the expiration of which time
the Cadet returns to the Academy for final graduation,
and the district then beconies vacant.

IV. Appointments to fill all vacancies that may oc-
cur during a year in the lower grades of the Line and
Engineer Corps of the Navy and of the Marine Corps
will be made from the Naval Cadets, graduates of the
year, at the conclusion of their six years’ course, in
the order of merit as determined by the Academic
Board of the Naval Academy. At least fifteen ap-
pointments from such graduates will be made each
year, Surplus graduates who do not receive such ap-
pointments will he given a certificate of graduation,
an honorable discharge, and one year’s sea pay, ay
provided for Naval Cadets.—(Act of Congress ap-
proved August 5, 1882.)

V. The Secretary of the Navy shall, as soon after
the fifth of March in each year as possible, notify, in
writing, each Member and Delegate of the House of
Representatives of any vacancy that may exist in his
district. The nomination of a candidate to fill said va-
cancy shall be made upon the recommendation of the
Member or Delegate, if such recommendation is made
by the first day of July of that year; but if it is not
made by that time the Secretary of the Navy shall fill
the vacancy by appointment of an actual resident of
the district in which the vacancy exists, who shall
have been for at least two years immediately preced-
ing the date of his appointment an actual and bona
fide resident of the district in which the vacancy ex-
ists, and of the legal qualification under the law as
now provided. The candidate allowed for the District
of Columbia and all the candidates appointed at large
shall be selected by the President.—(Rev. Stat., Sec.
1514.)

VI. Candidates allowed for Congressional districts,
for Territories, and for the District of Columbia, must
be actual residents of the districts or Territories, re-
spectively, from which they are nominated. And all
candidates must, at the time of their examination for
admission, be over fifteen and under twenty years of
age, and physically sound, well-formed, and of robust
constitution, (Rey. Stat., Sec. 1517.)

VII. Candidates who may be nominated in time to
enable them to reach the Academy by the fifteenth of
May will receive permission to present themselves on
that date to the Superintendent for examination for
admission. ‘Those who may not be nominated in time
to present themselves at the May examination will be
examined on the first of September following.

When either of the above dates shall fall on Sunday
the candidates shall present themselves on the Monday
following,

Candidates will be required to enter the Academy
immediately after passing the prescribed examinations.

No leave of absence will be granted to Cadets of the
fourth class,

[TO BE CONTINUED. }

 
Address all Communications to ‘Army and Navy Weekly,” STREET & SMiTH,
238 William Street, New York City.

Our new prize contest, referred to in previous num-
bers, is announced this week. The details will be found
on the title page. Christmas—the most joyous holiday
of the year—will soon be here. The possession of a lit-
tle extra pocket money on that day will be welcomed
by every lad. There are friends to be remembered,
presents to buy, amusements to attend, and the win-

ning of one of the five dollar gold pieces offered in this
contest will make all that possible.

* 2 oe

The details are not complicated. If you read this
publication you certainly read the splendid military
and naval novelettes written by Lieutenant Garrison
and Ensign Fitch. You are bound to be particularly
pleased by some one story—all are good, no doubt, but
there are degrees and degrees of goodness—and you
can certainly tellus why that certain story is more
interesting than the others. Remember, the answers
should not exceed two hundred words in length, and
they must reach this cflice not later than December 1.

* 2 *

The first of the series of special articles on military
schools by Mr. Joseph Coblentz Groff, will be pub-
lished in the next number. Cheltenham Military Acad-
emy, Ogontz, Pa., will be the subject. These articles,
written by one thoroughly conversant with military
schools, are especially commended to the reader,

se ate she
* * *k

In this issue of the Army and Navy Weekly will be
found the first of a series of compiled articles on the
rules and regulations governing the admission of ca-
dets into the Military Academy at West Point and the
Annapolis Naval Academy. The information given is
absolutely authentic, as it is taken from official publi-
cations. Those of our readers who are interested in
the two Government institutes will be enabled to as-
certain exactly what is demanded of a successful can-
didate.

* * *

The football season has opened brightly, and present
indications point to a greatly increased interest. in this
manly sport. It is only of late years that the Ameri-
can youth has permitted himself to be weened from his
first love—base ball. But the rowdyism prevalent on
the diamond during the past few seasons has almost
accomplished that end. Football by professional play-

ers, college athletes, school teams or even local clubs
is a game that pleases and invigorates not only the
player but the spectator. During the present season
the Army and Navy Weekly will pay especial atten-
tion to the sport in its athletic department.

x * *

Several letters have recently been received from
readers who mention the fact that they are poor and
fear being handicapped in life for that reason. The
best answer to this erroneous belief is the following ar-
ticle hy a thoughtful writer in Mayflower:

‘‘Though a poor boy starts life under great difficul-
ties it is probably better than to start life rich. He
may have others depending on him, may have td) work
from early to late, but if he has ambition he will find
some time in which to advance himself. He has many
drawbacks to meet and overcome—many things to un-
dergo which a rich boy has not. The future seems dark
to him, but laudable ambition will lift him above his
difficulties. In the daily battles of life, a poor boy
learns the art of self-reliance—a thing which will
carry him successfully through life. On the other hand,
a rich boy starts life under favorable conditions. He
does not have the future to worry about, he knows his
future is provided for him. His least wish is gratified ;
he depends on others instead of himself. He may have -
ambition, and zealously apply himself to his chosen
vocation, but he has not that incentive behind him
which the poor boy has. He knows that whether he
fails or succeeds he has not himself to provide for.
whereas, a poor boy knows that if he is to have success
it depends on his own efforts.

te am ste
* * *

‘If a boy starts in life with the determination to
make a mark in the world, no matter what is before
him, he will succeed. Nowadays a poor boy has better
chances than in the past. There are many openings for
boys who have ambition, but not the means with
which to gratify it. With the present system of free
schools, a good common school education may be ob-
tained free. The colleges offer inducements to those
not able to educate themselves. The free-library sys-
tem in effect in almost all the large cities offers a
chance for a boy to advance himself by good reading.
A. boy living in the country basa much harder time
than one living in the city, but the country schools
are gradually being improved. If you will notice, you
will see that a greater part of the world’s greatest men
began life as poor boys. Is not thisa significant fact
in itself? They had difficulties to overcome, but they
succeeded, They had a worse time than poor boys of

to-day have; things were not so easy then as they are
now.
* * %

‘*Take for example, some of the greatest men of
America who started life under the cloud of poverty.

They have been used time and again as models; but

their lustre is not yet too dim to prevent them from
shedding some light upon the road to success from a

political and financial standpoint. Ambition, pluck

and self-reliance conquer everything, and if the boy

has these qualities, no matter wkat his condition may

be, he will succeed.

eS

 
: : : * ; yt
(Brief ticms of interest on local amateur athletics at the various colleges and schools are solicited,

“Descriptions and scores of maich games
, &

will also be published 1f sent to this department.)

Football Preliminaries,

When the notice ‘Candidates for football team will
report for practice’’ is posted on the bulletin board at
one of the big colleges, it means that the season has
commenced, The result of the next few weeks’ practice
will go far toward determining the final make-up of
the team. Members of last year’s team who did not
graduate in the spring have been together at some sea-
side or mountain resort. Their prowess of last year
makes themsecure in their positions. They are pointed
out again and again to the aspirants for future honors
on the gridiron. Many of these latter have made repu-
tations at school, and some feel. almost sure that they
will make the team. Others only hope to get on the
scrub for a year or two, which is the next best thing
to making the ’varsity and a stepping stone to that
honor.

On the day appointed for the first practice of the
season the students adjourn ina body to the athletic
field to inspect the new men and criticise or applaud,
as oceasion warrants. Ever since college opened littile
has been talked of but the chances of this or that
player. Substitutes on last year’s team have a reason-
able chance of securing places, At the same time there
ave men in the freshman class from some of the larger
prep schools who may step over their shoulders into
the coveted positions. The individual aspirant to the
*varsity sweater is not the only one interested in his
‘failure or success. His roommate and the fellows who
were in his class at school, and who have made the
same choice of college, are fully as absorbed in the re-
sult of the first few days’ practice.

The captain having filled up the gapsin the team
with substitutes and last year’s scrubmen, and pieced
out the scrub with such of the new men as he may
have selected, the rest are told to stand on the side
lines and watch the play. There is always the chance
that sonie one may be hurt, even in this first light
practice, so there is an opportunity for a man to get in
at the last moment.

Both teams now take their positions. The students
crowded on both sides of the field give a cheer for the
*varsity and practice for the season begins. Changes
will be made in the make-up of both scrub and ?var-
sity from now on until well into the fall. By that time
every man will have had a chance to show his worth
and will be either on the team, a substitute, a member
of the scrub, or be out of the game for the year.

Down the field goes the ball, propelled by a_ kick
from last year’s full back, and after it go the ’varsity.
It falls in the arms of one of the new men, and with
visions of a touchdown he goes ploughing up the field.
Before he has taken three strides, however, he is
downed in his tracks and in a second is at. the bottom
of a heap of perspiring and panting humanity.

There is a quick line-up, and the ball, after a fumble

’ by the scrub, goes to the ’varsity. It is quickly put
in play and passed to one of tlie ’varsity backs, who
drops it just as he is tackled.

A member of the scrub, one of the new men, seizes
it and dashes madly off, with hair flying, eyes bulging
and a now-or-never look on his face. In a moment
there is an uproar, in which laughter predominates,
and above the din cries of ‘‘Come back!?? ‘‘Gome
back, you chump!’? can be heard. The freshman, bad-
ly rattled, hears only a noise, and, taking it for ap-

_ Mause, only runs the faster. The white lines fly under

him; he expects to be tackled every second, but, no,
there is the goal line; he plunges over and falls with
the ball tightly hugged to his breast. And then he
wakes up. Looking back and up the tield, he sees the
scrub and ’varsity standing together, evidently waiting
for something within a few feet of where the ball was
put in play. The crowd along the sides of the field is
still laughing. He hears cries of ‘‘Good run, freshman!
You’re a wonder!’ ete., and he realizes that he has
acquired lasting fame by making a touchdown behind
his own goal, scoring instead of four points for his own
side, as he had fondly hoped, two for the, other. He
walks shame-facedly back, amid the mock plaudits of
the sophomores, and rejoins the other players, who
laugh good naturedly and resume the game.

This programme will be repeated every working
day, varied by an occasional game with some other
college, for several weeks to come, until, by a gradual
weeding-out process, the make-up of the team becomes
more and more what it will be in the final games, No
man, however, is absolutely sure of his position until
the season is over, as changes are sometimes made
during the last week of the season, and it occasionally
happens that the captain and coachers are the only
persons who know exactly who are going to play the
position back of the line until the team trots out on
the field for the final game.

y®. football schedule at the present time, al-
though subject to the approval of the faculty, is as fol-
lows: October 23, Carlisle Indian School, in this city;
November 18, with Harvard, on Soldiers’ Field; No-
vember 20, with Princeton, on Yale Field.

The Harvard football eleven has scheduled the fol-
lowing games for the season: October 23, Brown, at
Cambridge; October 80, Cornell, at Cambridge; No.
yember 8, Boston A, A., at Cambridge; November 18,
Yale, at Cambridge; November 20, Pennsylvania,
at Philadelphia.

The football season at the Brooklyn High School
will probably be one of the liveliest and most success-
ful in the history of the school. Many of last year’s
stars have been graduated, but, nevertheless, there
will be a strong aggregation of players put into the
field to uphold the red and black. Captain Walter
Gierasch, ’99, will not enter Cornell, although he sue-
ceeded in carrying off one of the State scholarships. Of
last year’s players, Herbert Weir, the best all around
athlete at the school, will again appear at quarter
back. His record last year was an enviable one, and
his return will greatly strengthen the team. Butler will
again be seen at left end, but Van Wicklen, who took
care of the right wing last year, will not return. It is
needless to say that his absence will be severely felt.
‘*Doe’? Wilson will again appear at left tackle, where
he played with such success last’ year. Ameli will, in
all probability, take care of the other tackle. Under-
wood, the star guard of last year, will again be ina
position to annoy the opponents of the B. H.S. Behina
the line, Gierasch will again make his telling runs of
last year, and if he can find a good running mate suc-
cess will be assured. Graves will do the punting. and
Boememan will probably take care of the centre.
Although the freshman class is not strong in the height
of its members, it is hoped that enough material can
be developed to make a crack team.

 
ITEMS OF INTEREST

cS cH

Passports,

Passports are a matter of the first importance to the
traveler who intends to visit Russia. They are more
needful than money, not because people are halted on
the street to show their passport, as is currently sup-
posed, nor because the police line the streets and are
waiting for strangers at every corner, but because it
is impossible to get either in or out of Russia, or to
get food and lodging when one is there, without it.
The police on the streets know very well that strangers
have their passports or they would not be there, :

First of all, it is dificult to buy tickets to Russia
without showing a passport vise by the Russian Consul
at the starting point, By the steamship lines no pass-
enger goes on board the boat without the Russian con-
sul’s written permission, and by the railways, while
the greater hurry at the ticket offices makes it possible
to buy tickets without showing any documents, no
visitor arrives at the frontier without very earnestly
wishing that he had one, At the frontier stations on
the lines from Berlin and Vienna the care and zeal of
the police are extraordinary. . :

The German trains are turned round, held in wait-
ing until the examination is through, and then steam
back to Germany again with people on whom the
Russian doors are shut. Some of these unfortunates
are Jews, some persons whose appearance does not
please the police, some have suspicious baggage, but
the large majority have forgotten to have their pass-
ports vise, or forgotten them altogether. In the steam-
ers, of course, there is no frontier station, and it is to
save the trouble and expense of keeping suspects a few
days at St. Petersburg and carrying them back again
that the companies enforce the law at the othergnd of
the line. They see that everything is bright beffe the
boat gets under way, and on this account they are
probably the best way for careless people to try to get
to Russia. :

The traveler visits the Russian consul first, then the
ticket office, then as he goes on board, gives his pass-
port to the captain, who holds it until the Russian
official takes his preliminary look at the passengers at
Cronstadt, At the pier in St. Petersburg the passports
are taken to the police bureau, which seams to be
parts of every pier. The baggage is examined, and
then the passengers pass through the bureau and get
their passports again.

At the hotel, there is another passport bureau, pass-
ports are given up to the police, and then the hotel
proprietor, who seems to be in some measure respon-
sible for his guests, permits them to register. The
passports go to the police headquarters, and are re-
turned in a day or two iu case the police are satisfied;
if not, they send for the visitor, put bim througha
cross-examination, and permit him to stay or not as
they are impressed with his story and appearance.

At any town in Russia the same formalities with
regard to the hotels must be Oserved, and to get out of
the country again permission must be obtained from
the police at the town where the passports are last
handed in. Then the steamboats and railroads repeat
their precautions, the police go with the boat as far as
Sronstadt or Helsingfors to take back any one who has
not been permitted to leave, and the officers wait at
the frontier to detain any one who has neglected the
sane formalities. The police must open the trap be-
fore the victim can get out.

Money Lenders in the Army and Navy.

The enlisted ‘‘banker’’ is an institution both in the
army and in the navy. Countless efforts to weed him
out of both services have failed. He is sometimes sup-
pressed fora period when his sense of security has
caused him to overreach himself and his exactions be-

_discharged) for neglect of duty while on guard.

SS aS

ALL THE WORLD OVER.

cone so heavy and insistent that they can’t be longer
officially ignored, but he always bobs up serenely and
openly, after pursuing his Shylock-like business on the
quiet for the time.

The enlisted banker is a soldier, sailor or marine
who waxes opulent on the prodigality of his fellows—
not infrequently, indeed, upon the recklessness of his
superior officers. He is a money-lender who often gets
rich at the expense of the spendthrifts in both services.
In ‘the navy he is called a ‘‘six-for-five man,’? the
difference of one in the figures of the term indicating
the interest be charges for the loan of $5 for a month.
He could as well be called a ‘‘twelve-for-ten’’? or a
‘‘twenty-four-for-twenty’’ man, for on all of the ships
of the navy his interest charges are the same. In tle
army he is known as ‘‘the screw”’ or ‘‘the Shylock,??
and the degree of his usury is variable, depending
altogether upon the comparative solvency of the men
who have permitted thamselves to become enmeshed in
his net, and upon their rank and standing as_ well.

There is not a single ship in the United States Navy ~--

that has not among its crew one or more bankers,
There is scarcely a company, troop or battery in the
United States Army whose muster roll does not con-
tain the names of one or more bankers.

The navy banker is in most cases the paymaster’s
yeoman of a ship. The paymaster’s yeoman is a chief
petty officer, who acts as clerk and all-around assist-
ant to the paymaster and pay clerk, the latter being
an officer appointed for single cruises, who attends to
about seven-eighths of the paymaster’s duties. The
paymaster’s yeoman is the actual custodian of a war-
ship’s money. He attends to the bulk of the paymas-.
ter’s clerical work, is paid $60a month, and has to be
a man of pretty good education as an accountant, in
order to make out the innunierable paymaster’s reports
of money and stores served out demanded by the Navy
Department.

It is impossible to prove anything in the navy.

A man may be absent from quarters on deck. He
does not answer his name when the roll is called, for
he is down in the engine room. After quarters the exe-
cutive officer sends for him, Why was he not at quart-
ers? He was at quarters. What! He was at quarters,
sir. His name was not called. He stood at quarters in
the rear rank, between John Smith, oiler, and Wil-
liam Jones, fireman. Jobn Smith, oiler, and William
Jones, fireman, being sent for duly declare that the
delinquent was at quarters, and stood between them.
Dismissed, No proof. Se that nothing can be fastened
upon the banker, and, even if he could be convicted,
the punishment would not be such as to give him very
much the worst of it.

There is a regulation, however, which strictly for-
bids officers from having any private financial rela-
tions whatsoever with enlisted men. Once in a while an
officer disregards thisregulation, but when he is caught
in the breach he finds himself in a pretty had scrape, —

Soldiers don’t get so much money for their services
as sailors, but they are quite as good customers of the
bankers. They borrow smaller sums, however, and
they are rarely able to establish relations with the
bankers until they have put in one enlistment, for the
army bankers are generally old soldiers who have lit
tle confidence in the ‘‘rookies,’? and only hand out.
their coin to men who bear the marks of stayers in
the service. A few years ago one of these army bank-
ers, a duty sergeant at Fort Snelling, Minn., was
court-martialed and ‘‘bob-tailed’? (i. e., dishonorably
There
was some staring in the post when, a few davs after
the man was discharged, the St. Paul newspapers con-
tained his card as a. real estate and fire insurance
Been, his office being in a building which he himself
owned, a ae

et

 
Norice.—Questions on subjects of general interest only are dealt
with in this department. As the ARMY AND NAvy W¥®EKLY
goes to press two weeks in advance of date of publication, answers
cannot appear for at least two or three weeks. Communications
intended for this column should be addressed ARMY AND NAVY

WEKLY CORRESPONDENCH, P. O. Box 1075, New York city.

O. G. T., Philadelphia, Pa.—-One explanation of the
reason why a barber uses a striped pole as a sign is
that, in the Middle Ages, barbers were also blood-
letters. That is to say, when a person required to be
bled, a barber, and not a physician, was called upon.
Hence the pole with a white and red stripe running

-along its leugth to represent a bleeding arm witha
white bandage around it. This sign having been once
adopted, and having become known the world over, it
has been retained, although the barbers themselves
for the most part have no idea of its origin.

B. J. N., Savannah, Ga.—An aquarium should nor
be let stand in the sunlight too much, as the water
willbe thus warmed to a greater degree than is
healthy for the fish. The temperature of the water
should not be more than 50 or 60 degrees. The mast
interesting fish for a fresh water aquarium are the
stickle-back, gold-fish, perch, minnow, and grudgeon.
Some small water turtles will add to the variety, as
will also a few snails and mussels. These latter help
to purify the water by using up decayed vegetable
matter. ‘

B. C. N., Milwaukee, Wis.—Black crayons are made
of black chalk ~a kind of clay colored with carbon,
usually found in or near coal mines—or of charcoal.
Other varieties of crayons are made of pipeclay, gyp-
sum, or charcoal. These matarials are ground into a
paste with some gum, starch, wax, soap, or sugar, to
make them hold together, and are then molded into
the shapes in which they are sold. This paste is
colored with Naples. yellow, indigo, vermilion, umber,
and carmine, according to the shade wanted.

‘*Clifford Faraday,’’ Columbia, S. C.—1. There are
one hundred and eighteen vessels all told in the United
States navy. This includes those under constructiou
and being’ repaired. The total number in efficient con-
dition would probably not exceed two-thirds the
number given. 2. President William MeKinley was
born January 29, 1843, which makes him fifty-four
years, nine months old,

C. B., Cogan Station, Pa.—1. Submarine diving is
hardly a good profession for a boy to adopt. An equal
amount of money can be made in thousands of other
professions where the risks and hardships are not
nearly so great. 2. Read the special article on sub-
marine divers in No. 18 Army and Navy Weekly,

Inquisitive, Brooklyn, N. Y.—1. You will find re-
views of current amateur papers in the Amateur Jour-
nalism department of this publication. Make your own
selection. 2. The majority of amateur papers will be
pleased to accept contributions. Address the editors
on the subject. 3. Not at present,

GG. W. B., Rochester, N. Y.—1. All vessels putting
into Norfolk, Va., must necessarily pass through
Hampton Roads, which is the body of water connect-
ing the James River with the mouth of Chesapeake
Bay. 2. We have no knowledge of the canal referred
to.

_J.8., Covington, Ky.—Write tothe Secretary of
War and the Secretary of the Navy for prospectuses
relating to the Military and Naval Academies,

Little Falls, N. Y.—The information requested must
be obtained direct from the Secretary of War. He will
gladly favor you with a reply.

A. BE. F., Milford, Pa.—The college yell of the U. of
-P. is *‘Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah! Hoo-rah! Pennsylvania !??

 

 

 

 

(SPEHCIAL Noricxn,—To insure the safe return of stanips sent to us
for examination, correspondents should inclose them in a separate
Stamped envelope bearing name and address. The prices quoted
are from current lists and are subject to change.)

New South Wales has gotten out two jubilee stamps.
They are for the benefit of the hospitals, and cost 1
shilling and 2 shillings 6 pence each, and the 1 shilling
is allowed to be used as a1 penny postage stamp, and
the 2 shillings 6 pence as a 21-2 peuny stamp, 1 penny
and 2 1-2 pence each going to the postoffice department
and the balance of the purchase price to the hospital
fund. They are large size, and bear allegorical figures
in center with inscription ‘‘Consumptives’ Home— But
the Greatest of These Is Charity’? on the 1. shilling,
and ‘*Diamond Jubilee’’ on the 2 shillings 6 pence. The
color of the 1 shilling is green and brown, and of the 2
shillings 6 pence, red, gold and blue.

The advance sheets of the 1898 catalogue have ap-
peared, They show a decline in prices of many stamps
far more being marked down than have advanced,
which has not been the case before for many year's.
The rapid advance in the price of many stamps in the
last two or three years was not warranted by the
stocks available in comparison to the demand, and
this inflated valuation has induced many dealers to
offer large discounts from catalogue price, and it is
hoped that the cutting of prices to nearer the net value
of the stamps will do away with this, and make the
catalogue a better guide to the real value of the speci-
mens listed.

been

A sketch of an interesting postal contract has
sent to the Postmaster General of this country, from

the Bureau of International Postal Union, It is the
oldest postal contract known, and was executed in
1517, between Charles V. aud Johann and Maffeo von
Taxis, nephews of Franz von Taxis, the founder of an
international postal system in the domain of the
Austro-Spanish universal monarchy. t deals with the
Spanish, Netherland and German posts, as well as the
transit reute crossing France from north to south. The
contract has affixed to it the signature ‘‘Charles’’ and
is countersigne.t ‘‘ Auarte.’?

It was announced from Washington that the color of
the current 2-cent stamp was to be changed to green,
the green ink being so much cheaper than the carmine
that a saving of $10,000 a year would result from the
change, Owing to a resolution adopted at the last meet-
ing of the Postal Union, which states that the color of
the stamp for single rate inJand postage after January
1, 1898, shall be red, the idea of changing the color
for so short a time has been abandoned.

F. B.8.,Manistee, Mich.—There is no premium on
the 1895 silver dollar. There were several hundred
thousand of these coins minted, and the newspaper
stories to the contrary are all hoaxes,

W. R., St. Louis, Mo.—The stamps you send are
all of the commonest class of foreign stamps, and. re-
tail at 1 and 2 cents each, We do not know where you
could dispose of them.

Stamps of new design have been issued in New South
Wales to replace the old 1, 2 and 21-2 penny values.

C. KE. J., Roxbury, Mass.—The Heligoland stamp
you send is a reprint; the others are counterfeits,

F.C, C., Oswego Falls, N. Y.—There is no premium
on a half dollar of 1835.

C. A. C., Albany, N. Y.—The stamps you send are
worth but a few cents per 100.

 
 

etnee

 

ATEUR JO

® NEWS NOTES ~
OF INTEREST TO THE
‘YOUNG PUBLISHERS
AND AUTHORS
OF AMERICA

baer

rd

ab

 

 

A PRIZE CONTEST.

To stimulate interest in amateur journalism in the United States and for the purpose of aiding beginners

in amateur publishing, the Army and Navy Weekly offers 2
article written from actual experience on amateur journalism in general.
hendred words in length and must be comprehensive in t

@ prize of FEVE DOLLARS IN GOLD for the best
The articles should not exceed five

reatment. Thatis, they should deal of amateur jour-

nalism in all its branches—size, composing, presswork, collection of articles, cost ef material, possibilities of ad-
‘vertising, methods of securing subscribers, and whether weekly or monthly issues are considered most advisable.
t should be understood that amateur papers in a strict sense, are those edited and printed by either boys or

girls ander age.

he prize will be awarded to the most carefully written and comprehensive article. A portrait and brief :

autobiography of the prize winner will be published.
e contest will close November ist, 189%.

 

EDITOR’S ‘TABLE.

The August number of
reached the ‘‘Table.’’ This is the first opportunity we
have had to review this excellent amateur paper. It is
very bright and newsy, and also one of the most am-
bitious papersin the amateur world. The make-up
aud contents would be a credit to many a_ professional
publication. It is the official crgan of the U. A. P. A.,
and the N. A. B. O. ‘*Bits and Chips’’ is pub-
lished in Utica, N. ¥., by Frank E. Merritt, Jr.
George A. Alderman is associate editor. The August
number contains an excellent half-tone portrait of L.
YT. Brodstone, several thoughtful editorials, a column
by the associate editor, a reminiscent letter from Al-
bert O. Penny and the conclusion of a humorous ar-
ticle entitled ‘‘Brimbleshines on Skates,’’? from Ned
Huguenin’s facile pen.

‘¢Bits and Chips’’ has

The prize contest announced above will end within
afew days. if you have anything to say on the sub:
ject of amateur journalism and care to win a five dol-
lar gold piece you should set to work at once.

While on the subject of contests it will be well to in-
form the readers of the Army and Navy that the ama-
teur authors of America will not be neglected. The de-
tails of an amateur shdrt story contest are in prep-
aration and will be announced in a few weeks.

ee eee

COPY HOOK.

ENJOYED BEING AN AMATEUR.

(Note—The following article is from the August
number of ‘‘Bits and Chips.’’ It. is by Albert O.
Penny, a former amateur who is now in professional
harness. )

I am like a fish out of water. Since discontinuing
the Mail Bag, seven months ago, I have had a most
intense longing to rejoin the ranks of the ever advanc-
ing army of amateurs, if only as a private in the rear
rank. I often sigh for good old days when I used to
tilt back the cane bottom chair in my editoral fortress,
and protected from the enemy’s guns, arrived witha
blue pencil, ruthlessly mow down whole columns of
—not infantry—but literary brilliance. How import-
ant and self-satisfied I felt when I could take a whole
column (31-2 inches long) and boil it down to a
-*stickful.’’? I became so very well pleased with my
genius for ‘‘boiling down’? that nothing would do but
that I must seek a wider field, where my attainments
would receive the attention they deserved. I would
leave the snug harbor of the amateurs and battle with
the hoary crested waves of professionalism. But alas!
I was run down and sunk by the prow of my own
blue pencil, as it were, for the editor of the sheet for
which I waste paper and pencils doesn’t do a thing but
rush me out on fake fire alarms and the like! How-
ever, it may be that he is holding me in reserve, wait-
ing for a time when he ean rescue Peary’srelief party,

and thus display his shrewdness (the editor’s, not
Peary’s) in obtaining such a daring, brainy corre
spondent as ‘‘yours lovingly.’’ Therefore I won’t min
the wait hereafter, but will calmly stroll about the
editorial rooms, chat with the old man, and smoke the
sporting editor’s fifty cent Havanas (fifty cents a
hundred, I mean) with my nose so high that the ashes
will fall down the back of my neck,

Seriously, though, while I love the varied exper-
iences of reportorial life, fron) the weary trudge after

the afore-mentioned false fire alarm at two o’clock in ~

the morning, to the race with rivals on -other papers
for the first account of the wreck of the noon express
train, yet there come times when I get literally home-
sick. I feel as if [I wanted to correspond again with
my old amateur friends, and to read their papers, the
product of their cleverness and energy and love of
dabbling in printers’ ink. That’s the reason I started
the Mail Bag. I used to love to smear ink over every-
thng; and it was such jolly fun to play reporter, edi-
tor and publisher of a newspaper. And then after I
had gone that far I was seized with an unquenchable
thirst for professional work.

Show me an amateur publisher who does not, sooner
or later, fall a victim to the romantic allurements of
a reporter’s life and [ will show you a boy whose soul .
is dead. If he is not alive to the simple beauties of a
run out into a country town; if the perils of making-a
midnight trip, in the dead of winter, across a lightly
frozen river, in order to beat his rival to *the nearest
telegraph office, do not appeal to his love for dangerous
undertakings; if he is not thrilled with admiration for

the strong, handsome, intelligent horses plunging down _

the avenue with the swaying, rattling engine to whic
he is clinging; if his ‘fingers do not tingle with excite-

ment when reporting the thundered speeches of political _

authors; if his ambitions are not aroused by the pros-
pect of holding thousands, aye, millions of readers
entranced by the charm of his articles, and by the
prospect of still greater fame and fortune when he turns
his mind toward fiction; then, indeed, his inner nature
must. be dwarfed and his sensibilities blunted to a re-
markable degree.

Scores of successful newspaper men owe their inspir- —

ation and early training to the tiny sheets which they

‘issued so many years ago, and which, when the busy,
careworn editor allows his weary

eyes to rest fora.
moment on these sacred relics of the past, start the
tears to his eyes as his memory slips back along

‘“‘time’s dark avenue’? and brings back from the fading ~

year's the tender scenes of childhood. ‘The little hand
press, the battered types in their too often home-made
eases; the grimy little desk where the youthful pub-
lisher wrote his editorials, blue penciled the articles of
his correspondents and made up the advertising pages
of his paper; the excitement of mailing day; the re-—
viewing of his exchanges; and the thousand and one
other details of those dear old days all drift across his
mind on memory’s ebbing tide, until the tired old gray
head gently drops upon the folded arms and the tears
roll unheeded down those furrowed cheeks, and in the

next room the cricket-like chirping of telegraph in- %

struments goes merrily on, ticking the messages of the
“*Charles A. Danas of the future.”’ me See

 
 

we eben deen ee cele

 

ee as
my, |e
meee WY.
ail V7

Ney

Yin

Wy
Uy,
4
Yi,

ly

Wy
Yi

lomanrratecettine te ree rerarremenrr:r|

cane

Little Willie: ‘‘Gee! Ill bet that’s Patrick the gar-
dener. Won’t I surprise him.”’ g

A Wasted Sermon.

A teacher in a large public school at Peckham has
recently, been much annoyed by the persistency with
which one of her scholars plays truant. She was on the
point of reporting his case, when she spoke to one of
the lady supervisors. This lady believes in kindness
rather than harsher measures and told the teacher to
send the offender to her house the next time he was
troublesome.

So one afternoon there appeared at the lady’s house
a boy. The supervisor was all smiles and attention,
and she treated him to a ‘‘spread’’ the like of which
he probably had never enjoyed before. He was soon
made to feel perfectly at home.
~ “‘Now,’’ thought the benefactress, ‘‘is the time to
preach my little ‘sermon’.’’ So she put before him the
evils of playing truant aud besought him to be a model
boy in the future.

Imagine her surprise when he said to her:

‘¢T ain’t the boy that runs away, ma’am.
mie a peuny to come here in his place.”’

He gave

es Too Much For Her.

Little Dot—‘‘Sister Nellis too uppish for anything
to-day.’’

Little Dick—‘‘She’s just as stuck up and cross and
ugly as she can be. Thinks we’re just common nuis-
‘ances, that’s what she thinks. Wot’s got into ’er?”’

- Little Dot—‘‘Some one sent her a valentine calling
her a fairy, an’ a queen and a angel.’’ -

. Mother—‘‘What is the matter, my dear? Why are
you crying”’

Harry (between sobs)—‘‘T left my m’lasses candy on
_that chair, and the. deacon’s a-sittin’ on it.’

 

 

 

 

 

The surprise. (It was papa.)

Somewhat Qualified.

Little Girl—‘‘Did you ever see a ghost?’’

Little Boy—‘‘No.”’

‘¢Didn’t you ever, really?”’

**No,??

‘“¢That’s queer.

‘““Hverybody?”?

‘‘Well, I don’t mean that exactly, but nearly every-
body has known people who has heard of people who
has seen ghosts. ’” :

Everybody has seen ghosts. -

No Excuse.

Mother—'‘My dear, you were very rude during
Professor Astralle’s call. While he was explaining the
principles of theosophy, you constantly interrupted
him with questions.’’

Little Girl—‘‘But, mamma,I didn’t know what he
was talkin’ about.’’

Mother—‘‘ Neither did the professor, my dear.’’

Managing a Bad Boy.

Tired Woman (ina railway car)—‘‘Please, sir, will
you please hold my baby a while? He’s crying so I
ean do nothing with him.’’ a

Male Passenger—‘‘Um—what is he crying for?”’

**Nothing at all, sir.”’

‘¢Well—er— what good willit do for me to takehim?”’

‘¢‘Then he’ll have something to cry about.’’

‘‘Oh, he will???

“Yes, sir. He'll be crying for me then,
longer you hold him the louder he’ll yell.”’

‘“‘T presume so.”?

‘‘Yes, sir. Then, when he is real sure it is only me
he is crying for, I’ll take him and he’ll stop.’’

and the

 
912
Ought to Have Kept Her Home,

Farmer Nubbins (shouting across the garden fence
to his next-door neighbor)—‘‘Hey, there!’?? What are
you burying in that hole?’?

Neighbor—‘‘Oh, I’m just replanting some of my
garden seeds.’’

Nubbins— ‘Garden sesds, eh?
like one of my hens.’’

Neighbor—‘‘That’s all right.
her.’’

Looks to me mighty
The seeds are inside of

Properties Lacking.

Small Boy—‘'Papa, I wish you’d buy me a goat.’’

Papa—‘*You haven’t any harness, or cart, or——’?

Small Boy—‘‘Don’t need none. Us boys is startin’
secret society.??

A Lively Creature,
Teacher—‘‘How many legs has a cat?’?
Class—‘‘Four.’?

Teacher—‘‘How many legs has a chicken???
Class—‘*T wo,”

Teacher—‘*‘How many legs has a mouse???
Little Girl—‘‘Ooo! ’Bout a hundred.’

War Heroes

LIFE AND MILITARY SERVICES

Gen’Ils Grant, Sherman, Sheridan,

 

These books are worthy a place in every
household and should be in every library,
They are octayo size, over 200 pages each*
handsomely bound in an attractive illumi-
nated cover in which is reproduced by a
new process the latest photograph of the
heroes. Each anes

~ book complete in
' itself. When or-
dering please stat
which book you
desire. Liberal
discounts to f/f
agents. It will Mi),
only be necessary La
to show the books <4
to secure orders as t vty,
they are the best }{ bLEA®
and most reasons Xt AY
able ever publish-
ed for the price. For sale by all news-
dealers or sent post-paid by the publishers
on receipt of price.
SAAS MORNE SA ACH Gis
Adress IMIVAG SEH RINS >.
232 William St., P. O. Box 1173,
New York City.

: WRESTLING.

History tells us that wrestling was the fitst form of athletje
pastime. Without doubt, it gives strength and firmness, combine @
with quickness and pliability, to the limbs, vigor to the body
coolness and discrimination to the head and elasticity to the tem?
per, the whole forming an energetic combination of the greatest
power to be found in man, The book is entitled PRorESSOR
MULDOON’S WRESTLING, Tt is fully iustrated, and will be sent
postpaid on receipt of ten cents. Address

MANUA. LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York.

 

AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHY.

Many people imagine that a photographer's camera is a difficult
machine to handle, and that the work is dirty and disagreeable, All
this isa mistake. Photography is a clean, light, und pleasant ac-
coniplishment, within the reach of all. The camera will prove a
triend, reporter, and helper, With a very inexpensive camera any
boy or girl can now learn not only to take good pictures, but pictures
that there is everywhere a demand for at remunerative prices. A
complete guide to this fascinating art, entitled AMATKUR MANUAL
OF PHOTORRATUY will ha sant on receipt of ten cents.

MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York.

A PACKET OF SCARCE STAMPS for 10c. Also ap-
proval sheets. Chas. Keutgen, 102 Fulton St., New York.

Mention Army and Navy Weekly.

 

 

 

Cee en ema amen a ee LN AIRSET
If you would like one send your name and address on postal
card to Modes Pub. Co., 128 White St., New York. "

AN ELEGANT
WATCH

Mention Army aud Navy Weekly.

ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ;

CHELTENHAM MILITARY ACADEMY.

On the summit of the Chelten Hills, near Philadelphia.
Pennsylvania’s leading college-prepaartory boarding-school
under the military system. 70 cadets; 10 resident in-
structors. Special termsto U S A and U.S.N, officers,
Illustrated catalogue. :

JOHN C, RICE, Ph.D., ‘Prin., Ogontz, Pa.
Mention Army and Navy Weekly.

 

DAY'S WORK.
oe : fe)

Boys and Girls can get-a Nickel-Plated
Watch, also a Chain and Charm for selling
iy doz. Packages of Bluine at 10 cents each.
Send your full address by return mail and
we will forward the Bluine, post-paid, and
a large Premium List. No money required,
BLUINE CO., Box 96, Concord Junction, Mass.
= Me ition Army and Navy Weekly.
sae
TAMPS in Album and QCuat’s FREER. 105 Congo, &c., 5 cents,
Agents, 50 per cent. 600 games, tricks, paper3 mos,, &c., 10¢,
REALM, Sta. A, Boston, Mass.
Mention Army and Navy Weekly.

Army s Davy Weekly
BINDERS.

 

This binder will keep your papers always.clean and
smooth. No more missing numbers. Handy to refer to
and ornamental as well as useful. Sent post-paid to any
address on receipt of price, fifty cents. Address,

 

STREET & SMITH,
Soothing Syrup” for your chlidren

NEW YORK CITY.
MOTH ER while Teething. 25 cents & ROIS ‘

Be sure to use ** Mrs. Winslow’s
Mention Army and Navy Weekly.

 
»

©
f

 

oe

KX,

o

-

a

LOOMED.

 

=;

SROROROn

Ss

7.

LOX)

SS at et

Gr:

 

XD? <>

S

z

 

 

 

 

. Settling a Score; or,

.

Army and Navy Weekly.

 

48 LARGE MAGAZINE PAGES.

 

= @ Wee

Three Serial Stories by the best Writers.

Military Stories.

ALL FOR

RIVE

Two Complete Naval and

Sketches, Special Articles, Departments.

CEHN’TS.

QO0O00202 OCB OOO8

LIST OF STORIES ALREADY PUBLISHED.

Mark Mallory at West Point.

Clifford Faraday’s Ambition,
Naval Sham Battle.

Winning a Naval Appointment; or,
Faraday’s Victory.

Mark Mallory’s Heroism; or,
Toward West Point.

A Tale of a
Clif

First Steps

. The Rival Candidates; or, Mark’s Fight for

a Military Cadetship,

Clif Faraday’s Endurance; or, Preparing for
the Naval Academy.

Passing the Examinations; or, Clif Faraday’s
Success.

Mark Mallory’s Stratagem; or, Hazing the
Hazers.

In West Point at Last; or, Mark Mallory’s
Triumph.

Clif Faraday’s Generosity; or, Pleading an
Enemy’s Cause.

A Naval Plebe’s Experience; or, Clif Faraday
at Annapolis,

Mark Mallory’s Chum; or, The Trials of a
West Point Cadet.

Friends and Foes at West Point; or, Mark
Mallory’s Alliance.

Clif Faraday’s Forbearance; or, The Struggle
in the Santee’s Hold.

Clif Faraday’s Gallant
Fight,

Mark Mallory’s Honor; or,
Mystery.

Fun and Frolics at West Point; or
Mallory’s Clever Rescue.
Clif Faraday’s Deftance; or,

Cadet Rule.

A West Point
Mark

)

Breaking a

 

No.

10,

A Naval Academy Hazing; or, Clif Faraday’s
Winning Trick.

Mark Mallory’s Battle; or
Yearling.

, Plebe Against

. A West Point Combine; or, Mark Mallory’s

New Allies.

Clif Faraday’s Expedient; or, the Trial of

the Crimson Spot.

» The Bnd: of the Feud; or, Clif Faraday’s

. Mark Mallory’s Feat; or, Making Friends of

Generous Revenge.
Mark Mallory’s Danger; or
of Dismissal.

, In the Shadow

Enemies.
Clif Faraday’s Raid; or
Triumphs.

» Plebe Fun and

. An Enemy’s Blow; or, Clif Faraday in Peril.

Mark Mallory in Camp; or, Hazing the
Yearlings,

. A West Point Comedy; or, Mark Mallory’s

Practical Joke.
ae Escape}; or, Foiling a Daring
>
ot.

. A Practice Ship Frolic; or, How Clif Faraday

Outwitted the Enemy,

Mark Mallory’s Celebration; or, A Fourth of

July at West Point.

. Mark Mallory on Guard; or, Deviling a West

_ Point Sentry.
Clif Faraday, Hero; or, A Risk for a Friend,

3. An Ocean Mystery; o1, Clif Faraday’s Strange

Adventure.

Mark Mallory’s Peril; or, A Test of Friend-
ship.

A West Point Hop; or, Mark Mallory’s De-
termination.

Clif Faraday’s Troupe; or, An Entertainment
at Sea.

BACK NUMBERS ALWAYS ON HAND.

WVVRVVOVUVUVE
Address Army and Navy Weekly, 238 William St.

«STREET & SMITH, New York City.

 

 

BT Ne ee OO OS OOOO RD

 

SLL LILLIES SOOO

OXON)

$
C
eS

 

 
\

}

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

er.

The Army se Navy We

TOW

ea

 

; - THE MONARCH OF - ‘
e+ ie
JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS
a EI

LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS.

 

-During the coming fall and winter, serials, complete stories and sketches

from the pens of the following well-known and popular authors will be
published in THE ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY:

HORATIO ALGER, fr.
Author of ‘‘The $500 Check,’ etc.
WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON,

Author of ‘‘The Legacy of Peril,” ‘In Barracks
and Wigwam,” etc.

LIEUT. FREDERICK GARRISON, U. S.-A.

Author of the popular West Point series now
running in THE Army AND NAvy WEEKLY.

ENSIGN CLARKE: FITCH; Ga 3. N.

Author of the fascinating stories of Naval
Academy life, now being issued in this publi-
cation.

ENRIQUE H. LEWIS,
Author of ‘‘The Nameless Story,’’ ‘‘Yankee
Boys in Japan,”’ etc.

MATTHEW WHITE, Fr.

Author of:.‘!The Tour of a Private “Car,”
eLGs;, etc:

LIEOT, LIONEL ‘LOUNSBERRY,

Author of the famous ‘‘Kit Carey”. Series,
CbG;, .etce :

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

RIOR SEMALL,

Author of the well-known ‘‘Gay Dashleigh”
series, and editor of THe ARMY AND Navy
WEEKLY.

pee ee ees,

A charming writer of juvenile stories, whose
name is a household word throughout the
United States.

BEORGE ES. COOMER,
Author of ‘‘Boys in the Forecastle,’”’ recently
ended in this publication.

CAPTAIN C. B. ASHLEY.

Author of ‘‘Gilbert the Trapper,’ the con-
cluding chapters of which were published in
No. 7, ARMY AND Navy WEEKLY,

 

ALSO

FRANK H. CONVERSE,

 

BROOKS McCORMACK,

 

And a number of other experienced writers of
interesting fiction.

 

 

 

SPECIAL FEATURES.

Complete Naval and Military Cadet Stories; New and Interesting Depart-
ments; I[lustrated Articles on the West Point and Annapolis Academies;

Short Stories, Sketches, etc. &

* & * *

 

 

 

STREET & SMITH,

238 William Street, New York City.