THIS NUMBER CONTAINS SERIALS BY THREE FAMOUS AUTHORS, WILLIAM MUR- RAY GRAYDON, HORATIO ALGER, JR., AND VICTOR ST. CLAIR. a & & Vol. 1. No. 16 Octs2, 1897 $40000000000006 000-00000-400 6004 vOCOGOE | Ties iis TWO. DISTINGUISHED FRIENDS THE ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY mites, U- > i ce c Major General Neiso® Headquarters of the Army, Washington, D. C., April 6, 1897. HowarbD, AINSLEE & Co., Publishers of the Army and Navy Weekly, New York City. Gentlemen:—Such a publication as you propose would certainly be of much benefit to the youth of the country. A knowledge of the history of our country which is replete with glorious deeds of brave and_ patriotic men would serve to inspire them with a love of country and give them examples that they should emulate. The inculcation in the minds and hearts of our youth of love of the flag ought to. be in every way encouraged. Let them become strong men physically and mentally that they may serve their country in the hour of need. To that end I wouid en- courage athletic sports carried on with a manly and magnanimous spirit. Let our boys strive to do all they can to make the name of an American citizen a still prouder title and to be one of the best and most respected. I am, with best wishes for your success, Major Cenoral, U. S. Army. R €ar Adm ies; a @Neroy t €rard; uy 2 is & N New York City, April 20, 1897. : Howarb, AINSLEE & Co., { Publishers .cf the Army and Navy Weekly, / New York City. ] Gentlemen:—Any publication tending to increase the patriotism of our youth is necessarily a good one. We cannot have too much love of country. Upon that ‘ot dation is based the very existence of the government. To-day, as in all times, the evidence of patriotism is only.in fighting for ‘one’s country, but in upholding # law of the land. During the revolution the farmer sei his musket and went to the front; the sailor left his sh and took arms in the naval service. In these times our boys enter the government academies with the expecta- tion that some. day they may be called upon to fight for the Republic. The two branches of the service—the Army and Navy—are distinct, but they have a common cause—the defence of the Union. The commissioned/ officers of the American Navy are taken from the graduates of the Naval Academy. They enter there as boys fresh from home, are taught rigorously and trained with unsparing discipline for six years, and are then commissioned as en- signs in active service. The Naval Academy is a great institution, and a lad gains there not only an education fit- ting him for the naval service but for practical business life with the addition of manliness and a sense of obedience. The life is simple, and the location of the school an excel- lent one for the purpose. I wish you success in your new venture. j _ Army and Navy Weekly | “A WEEKLY PUBLICATION FOR OUR BOYS, Issued weekly. By subscription, $2.50 per year. Entered as Second-Class Matter at the New York Post Office HOWARD, AINSLEE & CO., 238 William Street, New York. Copyrighted 1897. Editor, - --- ARTHUR SEWALL. October 2, 1897. Mol re NO ATO: Price, Five Cents. CONTENTS OF THIS NUMBER: A Practice Ship Frolic (Complete story), Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N. Mark Mallory’s Celebration (Complete story), Lieut. Frederick Garrison, U. S. A, Why Mullock Was Pardoned (Illustrated Short Story) Walter H. Davis In Forbidden Nepaul (Serial), William Murray Graydon Dean Dunham (Serial) Horatio Alger, Jr. Winning With the Wheel (Serial), Victor St. Clair . Boy Bull-Fighters (special article) J. Johnson Leak : : : Editorial Chat, .. 2 : : toe i : : : Department Athletic Sports, -. : : ; : LO : : : Department Items of Interest all the World Over : : : : i s Department Correspondence Column, : : : ae ; : : Department Stamps Column, . : ; : : : ; : ; : Department Amateur Journalism .. eee ; : ; ‘ 4 : Department Our Joke Department SPECIAL NOTICE, ® 6 = ax HE prize contest in which we requested the views of our readers on the subject of their favorite serials, short stories and departments is now conclud- ed. The judges are now engaged in reading the large _number of letters received, and their decision will be announced as speedily as possible. 53s BEensign Ciarixe Fitch, U. S&S. N. CHAPTER I. NANNY IN TROUBLE. ‘*Handsomely there! Not so fast. more pull and we’ve got——”’ “Ow-w! Wow-w-w!?? ‘‘Blazes! Clap your hand over his mouth. Quick! the officer of the deck will be down in a jiffy.”” ‘“Murder! Let go, you little devil! Let go or PI——”’ Thud! Smack! “You will bite my finger, eh? Take tat, you miserable plebe. Issay, Crane, just hold his blooming head while I beat a reveille on his mug.”’ ‘‘Wait a bit until we get him served and spliced, Dodge. He’s kicking like a steering wheelinanor’east gale. ‘There, that’s it. Another turn about his arms and we’ll have the rat dead to rights. Now, Mr. Nanny Gote, how do you like iar ‘The speaker, a tall, heavily-built youth in a naval cadet uniform, grinned compla- cently into the upturned face of a young- ster lying stretched cut upon the orlop deck of the Naval Academy practice ship Monongahela. The victim, forsuch his uncomfortable position and bound arms proclaimed him to be, was much younger than his chief tormentor, and was, moreover, slight and rather delicate in appearance. His white face indicated his alarm, and _ he looked up pleadingly at the group surrounding him. Hecould not speak, perforce. A wad of spun oakum filling the cavity of his mouth, fastened there by _a tarry length of rope, prevented that. _ “Nanny,” as he was called by his One companions, was a member of the plebe class at the United States Naval Acad- emy. ‘Those tormenting him were of the third or hazing class at the same institute. There were six in the group, and they represented about the most vicious ele-- ment in their class. Crane, the tingleader, “had it int. use his own words, for all plebes and he had started out that night to ‘‘devil’’ a few just to keep his hand i in. The Monongahela was lying at anchor twenty miles. below the Academy from which she had sailed early that morning on the usual summer practice cruise. Karly the following morning the tug from the Academy would take her in tow again to complete the trip down the broad Chesapeake to the open sea. It was a few moments after three bells (nine-thirty o’clock) in the night. ‘The three “classes of cadets making up the crew were supposed, with the exception of a small anchor watch, to be reposing peacefully in their hammocks. Some were, and some were not. When the watchful officer of the deck ° went his rounds after taps he found all well, and the deck echoing to the more or less melodious snoring of the occu- pants. : He was an officer shrewd in his genera- tion. He had passed through the Acad- emy himself, and he had made more than one practice cruise in the old ships used for that purpose. And he remembered just such a night when, in his second year he “had started on plebe deviling _ expeditions with kindred spirits. After leaving the berth deck he paused ~ at the head of the Jadder and listened. It ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. seemed as if the chorus of snores below had slackened somewhat. _ The officer chuckled and then quietly slipped down the steps again. He had no desire, bless you, to catch any one in wrongdoing, but the memory of old cadet days was too strong to resist. The berth deck lamps were burning brightly, but the major part of the great deck was in deep gloom. Over in one corner where a juinble of hammocks made a haphazard: patch of dark and light shades, several pairs of legs appeared underneath the swinging beds. A low laugh came through the gloom, but it was speedily checked by a warning hiss. Several hammocks stirred uneasily, then came asnap and a thud, the latter followed by a how! of alarm. The officer discreetly withdrew unseen. As he stepped out on the spar deck he chuckled again and said: ‘*By Jove! the plebes will get.it hot and heavy to-night. Humph! It won’t do them:a bit of harm. I was hazed and thousands before me. A little trouble makes aman of one, Let ’em go it.’ With this philosophical speech, ad- dressed to the moon which beamed brightly overhead, he calmly walked aft, and the plebes, luckless and endangered, were left to their fate. When Crane and his associates, sallied forth they had one object in view, and that was to make it an exceedingly torrid night for a certain fresh ‘‘function”’ or plebe. Hazing to them edifying sport at any time, but on this particular occasion they had extra induce- ments to spur them on. That evening just before pipe ee the ringleader passed “the word to his cronies “that he had something in the wind. Six choice spirits met in the star- _ board gangway and went into executive , session. “‘T guess you fellows know what we ought to do to-night,’’? began Crane, without further preliminary. ‘(Devil plebes,’’ spoke up a cadet from Georgia. - “Correct. It is not only our pleasure, but our bounden duty,’’ said Crane, pomp- ously. ‘‘It’s a duty we owe our country ——er—I mean our shipmates and our- was a delicious and 7223 selves. You all know the present state of affairs and how the very foundation of the old Academy is tottering to its fall. How every tradition” has been shattered, evety shted of cadet etiquette—ci-— = “Shredded, ? suggested a thin middy with a deep voice. “Dent be funny, Maxwell,”? erowled Crane. ‘‘’ This is a serious business. 2 ‘“Then come down to business. Wh don’t you say that it’s about time to haze the stuffing out of that gang in the new fourth and be done with it. What’s the use of getting off a lot of confounded rot and——’’ Crané tfeached out and caught the speaker bythe neck. He gave hima tug and a shove, but before the two could come to blows they were separated. “If you fools want to scrap, why don’t ~ you go up in the fo’c’sle and have it out?’? demanded one of the remaining four in disgust. ‘‘Crane, lake a tumble and let’s arrange this evening’s sport. I, for one, say we ought to get up a scheme to teach that gang a lesson. ‘There are only six of ’em, counting the Jap, and we ought to be able to handle them.’ “That’s right. And the first we ninget tackle is the freshest of the lot.”’ “Clit Paraday.” “‘Yes.. Confound him, I wish Kelley had kept him ashore. He’s gat more nerve and downright gall than all the rest of the gally functions together. Come, Crane, what can you offer?” “V’ve got a scheme, but IJ) fell it in my own way or not at all,’’ replied the big cadet, sulkily. '0 anead then.’ ‘Its this in a nutshell: Well yank Faraday and the rest down into the orlop deck and give ’em a coat of varnish. There’s a whole pot down there, and paint, too. Then we'll rig ’em out in spun yarn whiskers and set ’em adrift on the spardeck with some tin mess pans tied to their tails, that is, their ankles. It’ll be great sport.’ ‘‘Ves, and a tough job, too,’’ the Georgia cadet. ‘1d like to know why 2”? exclaimed a sallow-faced youth. ‘‘He’s not so warm, this Faraday. He can be whipped.”’ ‘Ves, but I’ve got five bones which says you can’t do it, Morgan. Kelley remarked could lay overt you, and acd. licked hin. MLet’s quit talking,” growled Crane. ‘‘Pipe down will ‘sound in a moment. Are you fellows satisfied with the scheme Or HOt, The ‘‘fellows’’ were, and it was agreed after taps. Presently the long, low notes of the last call sounded, echoing and winding through rigging and hull in melancholy cadance. There was a inomentary bustle, then quiet settled over the old frigate. es eel een CHAPTER IL CLIF ON A SCOUT. Ore! Tsay, Cli. Wake wo.” ‘*What’s the matter ?”’ ‘“Wake up, will you. thing in the wind.”’ ‘‘Oh, go way, Toggles. let a fellow sleep ?’’ ‘‘All right, if you want to see a chum hazed by——’’ ‘‘Hazed! Gorry! Who is it? Where— what——”’ Clif swung lightly from his hammock and confronted a tall, slim youth clad picturesquely in.a long night shirt. Clif himself was similarly attired, and the single garment revealed to advantage his erect muscular figure. He was not over large for his seventeen years of age, but there was grace and strength in every line of his compact body. ‘‘What is it, Toggles?’ he queried hastily. ‘‘Did you say some one was get- ting deviled ?”’ eyes. It’s Nanny.’ ‘‘Nanny? Gorry! Have they tackled that little chap? Who’s got him??? ‘It’s Crane and his gang.”’ Clif’s handsome teeth came together with a snap and a queer grim smile crossed his lips. ‘Crane, en?) he. said. -. ties broke out again. And he has tackled Nanny as a starter. What do you know, Toggles?”’ T. Ogeles Andrews, or ‘‘Toggles’’ as he was familiarly called by his plebe associates, made haste to reply. There’s some- Can’t you convenient mess chest he explained: ‘‘White, that young landsman who has — racket tostart the ‘‘deviling’’ as soon as possible A taken suc a ‘ine to you, minutes ago that he saw Crane and others drag Nanny down the orlop d ck ladder. They had the kid ee so | couldn’t resist or make a noise. I met White on deck and he put me onto th He said he overheard them say they were going to raise merry hurrah with certain gally plebes.”’ Clif laughed ominously. : ‘*T suppose they meant us,’’ he replied. ‘Well, we won’t wait until they look us up. 2 _ While speaking he had alee ap trou- . sers from beneath the hammock mattress : and was donning them. ‘*Call Trolley and the rest, ”» he added. : - ‘We will make a night of it ourselves, Methinks the old Monongahela will see — some queer doings before the sun rises again.’ Toggles gave a chuckle and slipped under the hammocks to the other side of — the deck. While he was away summoning _ reinforcements, Clif made a hurried scout in the direction of the orlop deck hatch-_ way, an opening in the forward part of the berthdeck. The orlop on board a man-of-war of Om the Monongahela type is, it may be well to know, a place in the bow below the level of the berth deck. into small storerooms and has a narrow hallway into which the rooms open. i As it isdown in the extreme lower part of the ship, away from the sleeping © crew, it is an ideal place for certain ingenious ceremonies known in as “hazing. = a When Clif reached the edge of the — hatchway, Nanny was just in the act of making the scribed at the beginning of this chronicle, His subsequent quieting at Crane’s hands, _and that cadet’s remarks on the ania ae came plainly to Clif’s ears. The latter, in his momentary anger, a made a step down as if for the purpose of — rescuing Nanny, but he one better OL tt, ‘“They can’t do much harm to the youngster,’? he murmured, ‘‘and if I -_inteifere now it’ll spoil our scheme. It Throwing one long skinny leg overa | a good chance to teach those brutes an other lesson. They have had more than on es us, but it seems s they need more.’ It is subdivided vociferous objections de- | ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. He bent over the hatch and listened ‘again. The berth deck was as quiet as x the tossing and mumbling and snoring of several hundred sleeping lads could per- ‘mit, and Clif heard plainly the conversa- tion being carried on below. — ‘““He’s fixed now, the measly plebe,”’ growled a voice which Clif easily recog- nized as Crane’s. ‘‘He’s number one, and the smallest of the gang. I only wish it - was Faraday.’ “You do, eh?” muttered the unseen listener grimly. ‘‘Well, you’ll have me pretty soon, but not in the way you think.’? 1 say, Crane,’? spoke up -another muffled voice, ‘‘don’t you think your ---. scheme a little too risky? It’l] stir up the whole ship and raise Cain generally. You know what the first luff said about hazers - before we sailed.’ “‘Oh, bother the first luff. He’s an old woman. He forgets what he didin his secoud year. I’ve heard that he madea _ plebe eat tallow candles until he nearly died. Why, my plan is milc. What does varnishing and painting a few measly _plebes amount to anyway. If you no t like to take chances skip back to bed.’ *‘T’m not afraid, but I wouldn’t care to get fired this early in the course. hat if Faraday or some of his chums split on as)? ‘No fear of that,’’? quickly exclaimed the Georgia cadet. ‘‘Faraday may be fresh, but he’s not carrying tales.’’ ‘““Thanks,’? murmured Clif, starting to leave the hatch. ‘‘I’m glad to see that I have one virtue. IJ’ll bear that remark in mind, masters. Humph! so they intend to make living oil paintings of us, eh? Well, we’ll see whocomes out best in ie Gorry!’ Rumble! thud! _ Aslippery spot near the hatchway sent _ Clif reeling against a stanchion. Before » he could recover his equilibrium he fell into the opening and down the ladder to the deck below! ey CHAPIER. IL THE FRIENDLY DOOR. The hubbub created was enough to arouse the seven sleepers of Ephesus. Bang! went poor Clif’s heels against the 5 sides of the passageway, and thud! he landed flat on. his back at the bottom of the ladder. He remained there half stunned amid silence deep and profound for the space — of a minute, Then he felt aimieed grasped by the back of the neck and yanked unceremoniously to his feet. ‘‘Who in thunder is it??? gasped a- frightened voice. ‘‘Blamed if I know, but he’s spoiled our fun, whoever it is,’? was the angry response. ‘‘Scoot, fellows, the officer of the deck will be down on us like a thou- sand of brick,’ Clif, fully recovered“and in possession of his wits heard a scrambling near by, and the creaking of aladder. It was too dark for him tosee anything, but he knew that the would-be hazers were stain- peding from the orlop deck. He realized that his unfortunate mis- step would cause an alarm—in fact, there was already a bustling above—but he was in no hurry to get back to bed or to let any of the Crane gang seek the seclusion of their hammocks. The rough treatment given little Nanny and the cool proposition to varnish and paint several of the plebes had aroused a feeling of resentment in Clif. And he proceeded forthwith to make things warm for his enemies—the hazing committee of the third class. Reaching out haphazard in the dark- ness he grasped something soft and yield- ing. It wasa les. It was Clif’s tuin to give something a yank, and he did so with a will. “et 20! mean, confound it! break your face:”’ Clif calmly gave a second yank, and his victim sprawled back upon the deck. ‘Stop that racket down there,’’ whis- pered a voice half way up the ladder. ‘‘Sh-h! keep quiet and we’ll be all right. I don’t think they heard it on the quarter deck?” Clif released his hold of the leg. He saw that it was time to retreat. Ashe started to slip up the ladder he remem- bered Nanny. ““It’ll never do to leave him in their hands,’’’? he murmured. : Stepping back, he felt around ‘for the What the deuce do you Let go, I say, ot Vi Ce AND NAVY WEEKLY. little prisoner. “It was all guesswork in the profound darkness, and he met with sinall success. some object which gave a muffled groan, but before he could investigate further he heard several cadets descending the ladder. “Everything all right??? whispered a voice near him. ves,’ Came from Crane. ‘Phe officer of “the ‘deck is snoozing, I guess. The racket woke up the berthdeck, but the fellows won’t bother us. I ran across that Jap, Trolley, near the hatch. He was prowling about as if he wasonto us. We'll have to wait now until things quiet down.”’ ‘Who was oS duffer who fell down the ladder??? asked another of the gang. ‘*Blamed if I know. Wonder if he got away?” - ‘Let’s search.” Clif crouched back in the darkness and prepared to give a good account of himself. He knew he was no match for the six third-class cadets, but he trusted to receive reinforcements from his chums. Then he felt assured the enemy would not resort to anything calculated to create confusion and alarm. Such a course would only result in their own undoing. ‘Trolley and Toggles and the rest would come down herein a jiffy if they knew where I was,’’ he muttered. ‘‘As it is, I’]l have to go to them.”’ Clif felt that he could escape by making bold dash, but he wished to leave with- oa rev ealing his identity to the hazers. He had a scheme of his own, the very thought of which made him chuckle. ay wonder if all these locked,’’ he mused, slipping back away from the searchers. They were perilously near and he had little time to spare. Directly opposite him was a ‘door lead- ing into the medical storeroom. It was supposed to be locked, but Clif, in des- peration, felt for the padlock. It was unsnapped. As quick as a flash he threw open the door, crept through and closed it behind hin, all but a slight crack which he left for the purpose of keeping in touch with the outside. **T guess we must have been dream- ing,’’ he heard Masters grumble. ‘I guess not,’’ promptly contradicted At ie he sturnbled_ over. doors are another ae te was no dream tr nightmare either. My leg is sore y where the fellow gripped it. hex the racket he made——_”’ ae “Oh, shut up!’ growled. one who was ‘evidently anery and discomfited. : ‘“What’s the use of wasting time talking like that. Some one fell down here, <1 course. And I'll beta dollarit wasthat fresh plebe, Faraday. He’s always prowl. ing around. ‘The question is, where did he go? Hecouldn’t have passed me on the Aadder, x ‘TE wonder if any of the storerooms are / a unlocked?” queried Masters. f Clif listened cay for the ae ik was reassuring. “Rats! Of course they are locked xe There would be the deuce to pay if they - weren’t. Don’t talk nonsense, Masters.’ It was plainly evident Crane’s temper -had not been sweetened by the experience of the past few moments. oe ‘‘We won’t waste any more time look- { ing for the beggar,’’? he added. ‘‘Let’s. get up to the berthdeck and find another plebe. Dodge, you stay and keep guard over Nanny. ‘While Wwe are gone youg might amuse yourself decorating him fo the grand appearance on the quarterdec You will find paint and varmish and oak-* um back of the ladder.’ A stifled groan from the prisoner indi- / cated that he had heard the instructions. “You don’t like the prospect, eh?” grinned Crane. ‘‘Just wait, my fresh youngster. You’ll like it still less before | we get through with you, Come, fellows, we’l]——”” Crane never finished the sentence, for. a light suddenly appeared at the top ot the ladder and a stern voice called out: ‘‘Below there, what are you doing in- the orlop? Come up here and report for investigation. a) Clif, peering through the crack in ce door, saw the cadets fall over each other in their sudden panic. He felt the door — snatched from his grasp, thrown back, a — figure slipped in, then it was hastily closed again. eee ‘‘Jumping Moses! shap, came to Clif’s ears ina familiar tone., ‘What asnap to find this place open. That’s the officer of the wate as It was Crane! Sees what a _ those third class fellows. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. : 727 CHAPTER IV. TURNING THE TABLES. Clif could hardly repress a chuckle, although he fully realized the gravity of their position. With his ever-present sense of humor, he saw that he could have a ‘‘high old time’? at Crane’s expense. **P]l give him the scare of his life,’’ he grinned. ‘‘He’ll think he’s got ‘some old sea-dog of Revolutionary times for a room-mate.’’ Asa prelude he rattled several bottles ‘om a shelf near his elbow, and gavea deep sigh. Crane gasped, and a noise like chatter- ‘ing teeth came through the darkness. ‘Wh-wh-what’s that???’ demanded the third-ciass cadet. _ Another sigh and more rattling of bot- tles. Then ‘Clif thumped twice upon a tin cannister. After that he groaned. This last was too much for Crane. With a half-suppressed how] he broke for the door and burst into the orlop passage, lif, shaking with laughter, peeped out. As he did so he looked almost into the eofa youth clad in cadet’s trousers, d a naval officer’s blouse and cap. it was Toggles! \ Gorey ! cried Clif in amazement. ‘‘He’s been masquerading as the officer of the deck, and he’s fooled the fellows nicely. Hurray eS He stepped from the storeroom in a huiry, and just in time to see Toggles, Trolley and Joy seize Crane. The latter tried to escape, but he was bound and gaceed in a jiffy. Cliff first assisted in the operation, then he slapped Toggles on the back and said gleefully : | Vou ate a brick, old fellow. It’sa ‘ great scheme and it came just. in time. ‘How did you do it?”’ “Got one of the ward-room boys to borrow me a coat and cap,’’ replied Tog- gles in his quick jerky way. ‘“‘Got a lan- tern. Came down here. Scared fits out of Sent them up to report on the quarter-deck.”’ ‘‘Sent them up to report on the quar- ter-deck ?’’ gasped Clif, ready to explode with laughter. ‘‘You don’t mean to say——’? ‘ » He?s a cuckoo,” chimed in aswarthy, black-haired youth whose face proclaimed him a Japanese. It was Motohiko Asaki, whose distinguished name had long since been converted into the more easily pro- nounced appellation, *‘ Trolley.” “Him’s a cuckvo, a bully boy. with eye-glasses,’’ he reiterated, giggling plac- idly. “Him got great head. Him fooled third class cadets and ordered them to quarter-deck. Officer up there will think they dream, and he——”’ ‘Stow it, Trolley,’’ interrupted a lean, solemn-faced lad named Joy. ‘Your tongue is wound up like a Waterbury watch. We are losing valuable time.’’ ““T guess that’s right,’’ agreed Clif, finally recovering from his amazement at Toggles’ clever trick. ‘‘We have work to do, and lots of it. lLet’s release poor Nanny first. He must be half dead by this time.”’ He bent over.and quickly freed the lit- tle lad who had remained forgotten in one corner of the passage. Straightening up, Clif continued: “Pye gota little scheme, but it must be worked at once. This fellow here,’’ | he touched Crane with his foot, ‘Gnten- ded to paint us a rosy red and adorn our respective faces with oakum whiskers.”’ “He did, ¢h,’’ growled Joy. “Ik a wasn’t a peaceable man by nature I’d adorn his mug with lumps and bruises.”’ Viet hel giggled Trolley. ‘““My-plan is even better than that,”’ resumed Clif. ‘‘What’s the matter with giving him a dose of his own medicine ?”’ ‘‘Paint him red?’ queried Toggles de- lightedly. ‘Soure thing.’’ “Hurray !’?? cheered Nanny, but ina dutifully low voice. ‘‘’That’s out of sight. And we’ll turn him loose on the quarter- deck.’ ‘“‘Ves; with whiskers.’’ The prisoner, who had_ heard all, writhed about the deck and made an inar- ticulate sound. ‘‘He’s pleased with the prospect,’’ said Clif, sweetly. ‘‘If there is anything Crane likes on this mundane sphere, it is to be - painted red, decorated with oakum, Pop- ulistic whiskers, and turned loose with an appropriate chorus of tin pans. My, oh my! Won’t the captain be pleased to meet him !”’ bi 4 bd fa fx] = eB _ A a 2, a bet = S Indian, the’ prize pis’; Texas, a wild and woolly cowboy just from the plains, with a right arm that had paralyzed four cadets in as many minutes; and last of all Mark Mallory, the leader and ‘‘head devil.” The seven were just then indignantly discussing ‘‘Wicks’’ Merritt’s letter. The very idea that any other plebes should be considered equally as B. J. as they— why, it was preposterous! **Tust look at the things we’ve done, b’gee!’? continued Dewey. ‘‘Look at the times they’ve tried. to haze us and we’ve outwitted hea See how we had the nerve to yank ’em out of bed the other night, b’gee. Or, if-that isn’t enough, just think of ‘Bull the Burglar.’ ”’ This last remark was greeted with a chuckle of laughter from the seven, in which even Sleepy found sufficient energy to join. enough to make one laugh. And indeed the recollection was: ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY ~~ ‘Bull Harris was the sworn enemy of — the seven, and of Mark in particular. He never had ceased plotting in his mean cowardly way to get Mark into trouble, and it was the joy of the plebe’s life to outwit him. had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. Given a bloodhound that had been sent out from a neighboring village _ to trail a burglar who had stepped into a barrel of pitch, the seven had put pitch on Bull Harris’ shoe, and started the dog after him during the evening’s dress parade. The dog had chewed Bull’s trous- ers to ribbons, had broken up the parade, — had made Bull the laughing stock of the. place and earned him the deathless nick- naine of ‘‘Bull the Burglar.’? Naturally Bull was wild with rage and the seven with hilarity. | They were still chuckling over it, and the general discomfiture of the vearling ~ class and their own future prospects as triumphant plebes, when inspection put an end to the discussion and scattered the crowd. “*But. just you oe in-anind, "yas: Dewey’s parting declaration, “that we're - the B. J.-est plebes that ever were, are, will be or can be. ing to show it every day, too!’ Which the. Parson punctuated with solemn, “‘Yea, by Zeus!” CHAPTER. ITF MARES TDP A: The yearling corporal who did the in- specting had done his criticising and gone his way, leaving four of the seven in their tent—Mark, Texas, the Parson and Sleepy—who, being the tallest, had been assigned to company A. And the four sat down to await the signal to ‘‘fall in’? for arilt. ‘*T reckon, Mark,’ said T’exas, medita- tively surveying his new uniform in the looking- glass. ‘‘I reckon that we fellows kin say that hazing’s most over now.”’ ‘*Assuredly!’’ said the Parson, gravely, “for indeed we have completely broken the spirit of the enemy, and he knows the not which way toturn. I think thatin words of the song of Miriam we may say: “Sing, for the sword of the tyrant is | broken! ! And b’gee, we’re a i } f i On the day previous they oS se / X i ing to his feet excitedly. ) go out an’? PiU—— lows,?’ said he. 1 where I’d been; ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. His chaos and horsemen are eet in twain.’ “Vea, by Zeus!” _ JThe Parson said this with his usually classic solemnity; Mark smiled to him- self as he sat down upon the locker and gazed at his friends. ‘‘Pve got something to tell you fel- **T think now’s about as good atime asany. I haven’t said any- thing about it to the Seven Devils yet. When I do they’1 have their eyes opened, and realize that if we’re going to subdue the yearlings, we’ve got to start right at it all over again. We've scarcely begun yet? The other three looked at him in sur- prise; Texas rubbed his hands gleefully, “ seeing that Mark’s statement, if true, meant lots more fun for the future. **You remember last night,’’ Mark con- tinued, ‘‘about midnight, how the Parson shouted out in his sleep and woke the whole camp ?”? “Yes,’’ added ‘Texas, ‘‘and scared me to death. I thought I was down hoine and the durnation ole place was bein’ run in by rustlers or somethin’.”’ **You met ine at the door of the tent,’? Mark went on. ‘‘I didn’t tell you Pibtell you now.. Last \night a dozen or two of the yearlings took ne out of camp—they surprised me and oe meso that I couldn’t move. They ied me to atree and were just on the point of beating me.”’ Pe What!’ } The three were staring at Mark in unut- -terable amazement. “*VYes,’’ said Mark. ‘‘They told me I’d either have to promise to be a milk-and- water plebe after this or else be licked until I would. And Bull Harris took a big rope and——”’? » Did he hit ye?’ cried Texas, spring- ‘*Durnation, I’ll 2): ‘ ‘*Sit down!’ said Mark. ‘‘He didn’t hit me, forthe Parson yelled just then and scared *’em all back to camp. And you needn’t tackle Bull anyhow, for I’m going to do that myself pretty soon. The point just now is that the yearlings haven’t given up. ote re still Lo 7 ““T didn’t know there were so many durnation cowards in the place!” mut- fered Texas. 2 ‘They're . desperate,’? ‘said ) Mate. ‘“They’ve got to do something. Now we’ll watch out for such surprises the next time, and meanwhile we'll show them that we’re determined not to stop.’ And Mark saw by the faces of the other three that that was just what tiey wanted. ‘Texas especially was twitching his fingers nervouslv and looking as if he wete wishing for some yearling to tackle right then and there. ‘1 tell you what well deo, Mark, ie broke out suddenly. ‘‘We’ll tie our- selves together an’ sleep that way, an’ then 1f they take one they’l] have to take att ‘“That’s quite an idea,’’ said the other, laughing. ‘‘But the main point now is just this. We’re to set out with only one idea in our heads to think of; perhaps it might be well to offer a prize to the fellow who thinks of the best scheme. We want to keep those cadets fairly on the jump from the start.” “Bully!” cried Texas: ‘‘And it seems to me, moreover,’’ con- tinued the leader, ‘‘that we make a big mistake if we let this day pass without doing some thing.”? “Vea, by Zeus!’’ vowed -the Parson, his solemn. face glowing with interest. ‘*For this day is the day of all days in the calendarof Freedom. This day is the day when our immortal colonies did vow and declare that the dragon of tyranny they would trample beneath their feet. _ This day is the day when first the eagle screamed, when humanity cast off its fet- ters and stood in the light of God’s truth. This day isthe glorious Fourth of July!” he Parson had risen to his feet, the better to illustrate the casting off of the fetters, and his long black hair was wav- ing wildly and his long white arms yet more so. Boston and Boston ‘‘liberty”’ were dangerous topics with him; he got more excited over them than he did when he found his immortal Cyathophylloid coral ‘‘in a sandstone of tertiary origin.”” ‘Yea, by Zeus!’” he continued. ‘‘Such are the auspices, the hallowed recollec- tions of this immortal moment that I ver- ily believe no revolution can fail on it. I say that if ever we strike boldly we do it 135 936 to- day. And I as a citizen of Boston pledge my aid to any plan.”’ _*Vaas. day, tew.” This rather prosaic peroration to the Parson’s speech came from one corner where Sleepy sat lazily regarding the scene. That was the first hint that.the “‘farmer’’ had offered, and it had corre- sponding weight. The four shook hands on it then and there, that by the time dinner was over they would have a brand new and startling plan to work for the yeatlings’ edification. The signal to fall in for drill found them still pledging themselves to that. Mark said nothing more to any one upon the subject; he left his friends to think for themselves, and he, when he got a chance, started out likewise on his “own hook.’ Inthe first place it was necessary to find out just how the year- lings means to spend that half- holiday afternoon ; having found that, it would then be time to think upa plan for spoil- ing the fun. There was a member of the plebe class who had been a plebe the year before, that is, who had failed on examinations and had not been advanced. Naturally he knew all the yearlings, and having been - through camp once knew also what would be apt to happen on the Fourth of July. Mark himself knew nothing about it for no one thought it necessary to tell plebes about such things; and so to this ‘‘hold- over’’ Mark went to learn. That gentleman, in response to some diplomatic interrovation emitted oo in- formation that there was nothing ‘‘on.”? That a ball game had been eal: hu prevented at the last moment. That prob- ably most of the cadets would go walking or amuse themselves anyway—some of then do alittle hazing. That it was a pleasant custom to make the plebes dress up in masquerade and give a parade or something. And that finally there was to be an entertainment in the evening. What sort? Well, it was dignified “and patriotic. There were programmes issued —not given to plebes, of course.. Would Mallory like to see one? Perhaps he could get one, would see after drill, etc., ote ‘(Much obliged.”’ ‘‘Good morning.’ The affable young gentleman did man- An’ we got a haif holiday to- oblige you, ” cic. _ Gee whiz! ‘ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. = age to get ‘Mallory: a program: e. Sa it to him just before dinner—TI you”’—‘'Oh, not at all, only too glad t And Mark rushed in the tent and eagerly tead the: handsome ptinted paste board. United States Military Ante 9 July qth, 8:30 P. M. PROGRAMME. Overture. Prayer. Music. Reading of the Declaration af pendence. Cadet George T. Fischer, Inde- i Pennsylvania. — Music. — Oraticn. Cadet Edmund S. Harris!—— Mark read not another word; he stared at the paper in amazement and incredu ity, rapidly changing to glee. Harrig Bull Harris delivering an ‘oration! G whiz! And Mark turned and face companions, feeling about ready to with hilarity. “Tisten here, fellows!’ he ct “(Here’s achance, a chanceof a lifetit Oh, say! Bull’s going to make a speech! We’ ll——”’ ‘Didn't you fellows know about that: 2 put in a voicein the doorway, as Dewey’ oo ag ‘‘] heard the years =. They say Bull’s a_ face appeared there. lings talking about it. fine orator, that he’s been working atan © elegant speech for months. And, b pee he means to bring down the house.’ ae Mark’s face was simply a picture oe 3 merriment at that. ee “Fellows,’? he said, as soon as he ~ could manage to get breath to say any- ‘Fellows, I’ll go you just — thing at all. one bargain more. ‘What iste. ca the hee oe “It?s very simple. It's just that we spoil that beautiful speech of Bull Har-” “ ris’s if we have to bust to do it.’’ pe! And the seven cried “Donel?” in one breath. — 4 fe] 5 by > < “A a < by = 4 < fl re c AN IMPORTANT SESSION OF THE ‘‘ SEVEN DEVILS’? WAS HELD IN MARK’S TENT (page 733) ‘CHAPTER II. A NEW ALLY. The more they thought over that scheme the better they likedit; the more they imagined Bull Harris, pompous and self-conscious, spouting his magnificent periods and then brought to an ignomini- ous and ridiculous conclusion, the more they chuckled with glee. They felt no prickings of conscience in the matter, for Bull was not a personage to inspire such. His devices had been cowardly and des- perate; only last night he had been on the point of lashing Mark with a rope when the latter was. helplessly tied to a ‘tree. With such a man ordinary stan- dards of fairness did not hold good. The only trouble with the ‘‘scheme’’ was its general indefiniteness, And that the seven recognized. It wasall very well to say you were going to “‘bust up’’ Bull Harris’s speech. But how? It would not do to guy him, or to use any device of which the authors might be found out. It was quite a problem. Texas suggested an alarm of fire, which was outvoted as dangerous, likely to pro- duce a panic. Someone else wondered how about kidnaping Bull and tying him up. This suggestion was put on file as being possible, to be consulted in case no better.appeared, which bid fair to be the case, just then. Mark and his ‘friends marched down to dinner without any further ideas appear- ing. ‘The plebes still marched separate from rest of the corps, though they were allowed to share the privilege of the spir- ited band which enlivened the proceed- inge They still sat at separate tables, too, which made most of them feel very much outcast indeed. The command ‘‘Break ranks,’’ after the march from Mess Hall again, marked the beginning of that holiday during which the seven had vowed to do so much. And _ still nobody had seemed to hit upon any suitable plan for the dis- comfiture of Bull Harris. ‘Weve got to hurry up about it, too,’? Mark declared. ‘‘For if there’s any fixing up to be done we ought to be doing it now.’’ ‘‘Where’s the thing to be, any way?’ inquired Dewey. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. “In the big Guimnasnn, building, they . say,’’ was the answer. ‘‘They’l] probably covet the floor with seats. But I don’t think we can do anything inside the : place. I think we ought to kick up some sort of a rumpus outside.’ And with this advice the seven heads - got to work again. Ideas come slowly when you want them badly. It would seem that with those a “minds busy on the same subject something should have resulted. But it didn’t. The seven strolled away from cainp and wandered about the grounds cudgeling their brains and calling them- selves names for their stupidity. ane still no plan caine forward. They strolled down to the Gee building in hopes that proximity to the scene itself would prove efficacious. They stared at the vestibule and the windows blankly, wondering what the place might be like inside, wondering if there would be much of a crowd, wondering if Bull would have much of a speech—wonder- ing about everything except the matter in hand. ‘‘Plague take it all!’ they muttered. ‘‘Let’s walk out Professor’s Row and find some quiet place to sit down. Per- haps we can think better sitting. Professor’s row is a street that bounds the parade ground onthe west. It is cool and shady, with benches and camp chairs onthe lawn. But there were plenty of | people to occupy the seats, and-so the » seven found no place there to cogitate. They had not gotten much further be- fore all ideas of plots and orations were driven from Mark's head a-flying. ‘They were passing a group of people standing on the opposite side of the street, and suddenly one of them, a girl, hurried away from the others, and cried out: ‘‘Mr. Mallory! Oh, Mr. Mallory!” Mark turned the moment he heard the voice, and, when he saw who it was he promptly excused himself from his friends and crossed the street. The six strolled on, smiling and winking know- ingly at one another. ‘‘Hope he’ll remember what Wicks Merritt said, b’gee!’’ laughed Dewey. Mark had no time to remember any- thing much. He was too busy watching the vision that was hurrying to meet him. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. Grace Fuller certainly was a beautiful girl, beyond a doubt. She was a blonde of the fairest type; her complexion was matchless, and set off by a wealth of wavy golden hair. She was dressed in white and made a picture that left no room to wonder why ‘‘half the cadets in the place were wild over her.’’ Pin olad I swani out to save ler,” was the thought in Mark’s mind. A moment later he took the small white hand that was held out to him. ‘(Mr. Mallory,’’ said the girl, gazing at him earnestly, ‘‘I shall not wait for any one to introduce you to me. I must tell you that I appreciate your bravery.’’ Mark bowed and thanked her; he could think of nothing more to say. ‘They just let me out of the hospital to-day,’’? she continued, ‘‘and I made up my,mind that the very first thing I was going todo was to tell you what I thought of your courageous action on my behalf. I want to know you better, Mr. Mallory.”’ She said itin a plain and simple way that Mark liked; and he told her that nothing would please him more. “(T would ask you to take a walk with me now,’ said Grace, ‘‘but for all those cadets who are with me. I don’t think they’d relish that, you being a fourth class man.’’ “(T don’t think they would,’’ responded Mark, with 2 queer smile which the girl did not fail to notice. “T don’t care!’ she exclaimed sud- denly. ‘‘They can get mad if they want to. I think a great deal more of some plebes than I do of yearlings. Excuse me just a moment.’’ And then to Mark’s infinite glee, this beautiful creature hurried over and said something to the group of cadets, at which they all bowed and walked off rather stiffly, sheepishly, Mark thought. The girl rejoined him with a smile. ““T told them they’d have to excuse me,”’ she said, as she took Mark’s arm. ‘‘I told them 1 owed youa debt of grati- tude, and I hoped they wouldn’t mind.”’ “Probably they ‘ won’t,’’ observed Mark, smiling again. “‘T don’t care if they do,’’ vowed Grace, pouting prettily. ‘‘They’ll get over it. And they’re awfully stupid, anyway. I hope you’re not stupid.” 139 With which Mark agreed, “YT don’t think the cadets like you much,’’ she went on, laughing. ‘‘i had such fun teasing them by talking about your heroism. They didn’t like it a bit and they’d try all sorts of ways to change: the subject, but I wouldn’t let them. They say you’re terribly B. J. Are you?” ‘“T suppose they think so,’’ answered Mark. ‘‘I’m nothing likeas B. J. asIshall | be before I get through.”’ , ‘That’s right!’ vowed the girl, shak- ing her head. ‘‘Tlike B. J. plebes. Ithink I should be B. J. if Iwereaplebe. I don’t — like these mild obedient fellows, and I think the plebes stand entirely too imuch.”’ ‘(TY wish you were one to help me,”’ laughed Mark, noticing the contrast between the girl’s frail figure and her en- ergetic look. “Tm stronger than you think,’’ said she. ‘‘I could doa lot.’? And then sud- denly she broke into one of her merry, animated laughs, during which Mark thought her more charining than ever. “Tf 1 can’t: fight,’ she said, *: you “miuss let me be a Daughter of the Revolution. You must let me make clothes and bake bread the way the colonists’ daughters did. It’s just appropriate for to-day, too.” ““T don’t want any bread——’’ began Mark, looking at her thoughtfully. ‘(Perhaps not,’’ she put in, with a peal of laughter. ‘‘If yousaw the bread I make you’d be still more emphatic. . It’s like the fruit of the tree of knowledge— ‘Whoso. eateth thereof shall surely die.) ‘(I see you read the ’Bible,’’ said Mark, laughing. ‘‘But to get back where I was, I’ll let the tailor make my clothes, also. What I need most just now are tricks to play on the yearlings.’’ ‘Do you?’ inquired Grace. \‘‘I can tell you of lots of tricks the cadets have played. But that’s the first time I ever heard of a plebe playing tricks on year- lings. It’s usually the other way.’’ ‘Variety is the spice of life,’’ said Mark. (‘The yearlings have tried rather contemptible tricks on me once or twice, very contemptible! I could tell you what several of those cadets who were with you did to me last night, and I think you’d quite naturally ; 740 be angry. Anyway I’m going to make them miserable in return.’? ‘‘T helped the yearlings get up a beau- tiful joke last year,’’ said Grace, looking at Mark in ill-concealed admiration. ‘‘Wicks Merritt was the ring-leader. He wrote to me, by ,the way, and told me to be very nice to you now that you’d saved my life—just asif he thought I wouldn’t! Anyway, I got them some powder to use for the scheme. ”? **Powder!’? echoed Mark. you get powder ?”’ ‘“They couldn’t manage to run off with any around here, sol got George to buy some. George is our butler. You’ll see George when you come over to visit me, which I hope you will.’? ‘I thought you lived across the river, beyond cadet limits,’’ put in Mark, *'So Ido, but the cadets come all the same, lots of them.”’ ‘So will I, then!’ laughed the other. “But you haven’t told me what you did with the powder.”’ ‘Do you see that big gun over there??? she answered, indicating Trophy Point. “Well, they stood that up on end and fired it off late one night. Wasn’t that a fine joke?”” i Veres)) said Mark, ‘“Ve-es, it: was.’? He was staring at the girl, a look as of an inspiration on his face. ‘They stood that gun up on end and fited it off late one night,’’ he repeated, scarcely heeding what he was saying, so rapt was he in his thought. “‘Yes,’? said Grace, gazing at him curi- ously, and meeting hiseyes. ‘‘ Yes. Why ??” Mark studied her look for a moment; he saw mischief and fun dancing in it, and ina moment more, he had made up his mind. ‘‘Tell me, Miss Fuller,’’ he said, speak- ing very low. ‘‘Would you—would you like to have ‘George’? buy some more powder.’? _ More powder!’ she echoed. do you——”’ And then she caught the gleam in her escort’s eye. ‘‘Are you—do you mean you want to do it??? she cried. _ **Ves,’’ said Mark simply. help?”’ ‘“How did vety slowly. What ‘Will you ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. “Ves; yes ‘‘Do you mean it??? = oll give you my hand on it,” ree sponded Grace. Mark took it. ‘“When ?”’ asked she. And Mark answered with a laugh, al- most a shout of triumph, “To-night!” he said. ‘‘To-night! Ye gods:!’? CHARTHR TV, A SURPRISE FOR THE SEVEN DEVILS. Six disconsolate plebes sat on a bench at the extreme northern end of Professor’s Row late that afternoon, gazing unap- preciatively at the mangificent view of the upper Hudson. ‘Those plebes had been cudgeling their stupid heads ever since dinner time to no purpose. ‘‘Durnation!’? growled one of them. ‘IT dunno what we air goin’ todo. Mark won’t let us blow up the durnation ole building. He won’t let me hold up the crowd, cuz they’d expel me. He don’t want to kidnap Bull, cuz Bull would tell. I dunno what!’ ‘*B’ gee!’ added another. ‘‘I wish he’d come help us think instead of chasing around town with girls. He’s been with her all afternoon——.”’ ‘Here they come now!’ interrupted Texas, pointing down the street. ‘"Yea, by Zeus!’’? assented the Parson. ‘‘And our friend ismuch smittenalready.”? ‘Who wouldn’t be?’ laughed Dewey. ‘Isn’t she a beauty, though? B’gee, I wish he’d bring her over and introduce her. ‘"Reckon she ain’t a-hankerin’ after plebes,’’ drawled Sleepy, who as usual had half a bench for his tired form to cover. This observation put a damper on Dewey’s enthusiasm. It was true, and besides that, it caine from the silent mem- ber of the firm. ‘‘She’s beautiful all the same,’’ he vowed, as the two drew nearer still. ‘And, b’gee, she seems to be lively, too.’ “If I mistake not,’’ put in the Parson, gtavely, ‘‘our friend is vastly excited over something.’ This last observation seemed to be cor- rect. The two were laughing, in fact their faces seemed to express about as much ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. glee as they could very well express, and once Mark was seen to slap his knee ex- citedly. The six were carried away by curiosity, which curiosity changed sud- _ denly to the wildest alarm. For when the two were just opposite, what must Mark do but turn and lead the girl over to his friends? The effect upon the latter was amusing. Chauncey made a wild grab for his col- lar to see if it were straight; Sleepy sat up and rubbed his eyes: the Parson cleared his throat—‘‘ahem !’’—; gave vent toa _ startled ‘‘Bless my soul!”’ Peweyv exciagimed ““b’gee!’?' and poor Texas turned pale and trembled in his bold cowboy legs. A moment later the vision in white was upon them. (iiss Paller,;’’. said Mark, (allow me to present my friends,’? etc., etc. The Parson inclined his head gravely, with dignity becoming the immortal dis- coverer of a Cyathophylloid coral ina sandstone of tertiary origin; Chauncey put on his best Fifth avenue salute; In- dian gasped and hunted in vain for his hat; the ‘‘farmer’’ swept the ground with his; Dewey looked all broke up and Texas hid behind everybody. There was vague uncertainty after that changing to horror at the next speech. ‘*Miss Fuller,’’ said Mark, smiling, ‘‘has proclaimed herself an ardent sympathizer and admirer of the purposes and princi- ples of the Seven Devils. Miss Fuller de- sires to be known as a ‘Daughterof the Revolution.’ Miss Fuller knows about Bull Harris and doesn’t like him, and sug- gests a first rate method of busting (if you will pardon my slang, Miss Fuller) to- night’s celebration. Miss Fuller likes to hear cannon go off at night. She offers to procure the powder if we will do the loading; she even offers to fire it, if we'll allow her. Also, gentlemen, allow me to ‘propose member number eight of the seven, and incidentally to suggest that the name Seven Devils be changed and that in future we go down to posterity gos) Mark paused one solemn moment and cleared his throat—— ‘“The Seven Devils and One Angel!’ And after that there was a deep, long, wide, and altogether. comprehensive Indian ~ wAl silence, while the six stared at Mark and his thoroughly amused friend in incredul- ity, amazement, alarm, horror—who can say what? It was fully a minute before any of them found breath. And then a perfect torrent of Bah Joves, Durnations, B’gees, Bless my souls and By Zeuses burst out upon the air, to be followed by another silence even longer and larger than the last. What on earth had happened! ‘The six couldn’t seem to get it through their heads. Could it be possible that this girl, the belle of West Point, the beauty over whom half the cadets were wild, the daughter of a famous judge, was sym- pathizing with a few poor miserable’ plebes, in an effort to upset West Point? And that she had actually offered to help them in a trick, the boldness of which was enough to make the boldest hesitate ? And that she knew of the Seven Devils? And that she wanted to join them? Good heavens, the world must be coming to an end! No wonder the amazed plebes gasped and stared, and then stared and gasped, unable to believe that they stood on the same earth as half a minute pre- viously. Mark and his. companion, who under- ' stood their perplexity entirely, and who seemed to have gotten amazingly in sym- pathy during a brief afternoon’s conver- sation, stood and regarded them mean- : while with considerable amusement. Well, it must be true! Mark said so, and the girl heard him and seemed to say ‘‘yes’? with her laughing blue eyes. That was the conviction which finally forced itself upon the incredulous and be- fuddled six, and with it came a dim, un- defined consciousness of the fact that pos- sibly they were not doing the very polit- est thing in the world in staring at their angel,” First to realize it was ‘Texas, last of all to whom one would have looked for any species ef gallantry. ; Texas sprang forward and seized the girl’s fair white hand in hisown mighty paw. **Hi, Miss Fuller!>? durnation glad to Whoop!’ Which broke the ice. he -eried, “17m have you join! ue CHAPTER V. THE SCHEME SUCCEEDS. Dress parade in all its Fourth of July holiday splendor had passed and the sun- set gun marked the ending of that day of celebration. ‘Through the dusk of even- ing the batallion had matched back from supper, to the tune of‘‘Marching Through Georgia,’’ from the band, and the pop- ping of sundry small fire crackers from mischievous small boys on the way. And then the cadets had scattered, still in their dress uniforms, each to join his own party of friends and go to the even- ing’s entertainment. Cadets are famous as ‘‘ladies’ men,’ ‘and during the gay holiday season, which was now on, West Point was crowded with girls, so that every cadet had his opportunities for gallantry, excepting, of course, the plebes, who do not go into “*society.’? As the hour approached, the big gym- nasium hall took on a lively aspect. It ceased to be a gymnasium for a while; rings and trapezes were hung up, and rows of seats occupied the floor, instead of parallel bars. The big West Point Band was seated in front, and the rest of the room was devoted to pretty girls and their cadet escorts. The Fourth of July celebration was a cadet affair; the ‘ presi- dent’? occupied the small platform in solitary grandeur; the commandant and his staff were present, but they sat among the audience. The plebes were there, too, on suffer- ance. ‘The gallery was given up to their use, and they filled it entirely, and gazed on the scene below. ‘The room with its decorations of flags and bunting, making them feel very patriotic indeed. The plebes.we are interested in were there with the rest. They sat off in one cotner where they could whisper and keep their secret all to themselves. If any one had overheard them, which they took good care should not happen, he would have learned, to his amazement, that the night’s plot was all perfected. He might have learned that ‘‘George”’ had done his duty with fully as much delight as any of the seven. | He might have learned that having been taken into the secret ‘‘George’’ ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ok. had not only gotten the ‘powder, but had volunteered to do the work himself, to save the seven ‘‘young gintlemen”’ all danger of discovery. He might have learned that down in a secluded woody hollow just east of camp lay three big seige guns in ‘‘Battery Knox,” loaded and stuffed to the muzzle with powder and paper and rags. There was lots more he might have learned. He might have learned that at the present moment the jolly, red-faced butler was lurking about the neighborhood of the Battery, anxiously serveying his watch at intervals of every minute or so, waiting for half-past nine, the precise minute when he was to touch off the fuse and tun. Also that Grace was down with her father, in the audience, occasionally stealing a sly glance at Mark; also that Mark was bearing a good deal of merry banter upon his conquest; also that the seven, having spent two hours or so with Grace, were vowing her the most original, daring and altogether charming girl that ever was anywhere, a most undoubtable and valuable ally of Mark and his anti- hazing society. The seven were about as nervous and anxious as seven plebes could possibly be. What if ‘‘George’’ should be found out? What if the guns should not go off? It was such a colossal and magnificent plot that the mere thought of its failure was enough to make one’s hair turn gray. What if the thing should begin too late, the guns go off before Bull started? Or on the other hand, suppose his speech was short and he shouldn’t be in- terrupted ! Mark had calculated the time carefully. He had allowed five minutes for the ‘‘prelude.’? But suppose it should be longer, or shorter, or should begin after 8:30? As the hour drew near Mark and his friends sat and wriggled in their seats and glanced at their watches and——. ‘It?s half past now,’? growled Texas. ‘“Durnation, it’s a minute after! Ain’t they ever—ah!”’ The band master rose from his seat, and raised his baton in the air. It was the ‘‘Star Spangled Banner,’’ and the sound shook the flags that graced the walls and shook the hearts of the audi- ence, too, and made them rise as one man. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ** Tis the Star Spangled: Banner And long may it wave. O’er the land of the free And the home of the brave!’’ The notes died out and the Seven ‘Devils remembered that for a moment ‘they had forgotten to be nervous. The grave young chaplain rose, and . raised his hands. His prayer was earnest, and his voice trembled as he spoke of the flag and its country. But alas! our friends had no eye or ear for beauty. It was time —time! Would he take more than the calculated five minutes? It was time for him to stop! Plague take it—six!—six and a half!—ah! There he had said ‘*Finally,’’ no, he was going off on an- other tack! Gee whiz—eight—Thank Heavens! The sigh of relief that came at last from the seven almost shook the roof. Then came ‘‘music;’’ that had been problematical. Music might mean any- thing from two minutes to twenty. But there is no need of torturing the reader, even if the seven were tortured corre- spondingly. The piece took some ten ‘minutes of agony, and then Cadet Cap- tain Fischer stepped forward on the platform. Fischer was an immensely popular | man with his class, and they applauded him to the echo. He looked handsome, too, in nis chevrons and sash. He read the Declaration of Independence, and te read it in the voice that had made him fitst captain, a voice that was clear and deep and tinging, a voice that sounded in the open above the thunder and rattle of artillery drill, and that sounded still better in the hall, as it spoke the words that had made a continent tremble, There was nothing in that to worry the seven—they had gotten a copy of the ' declaration and practiced it by the watch. \ Fischer finished on scedule time; but | tHen Came the tussle. And sone’ poor . plebes up in the gallery nearly had apo- _ plexy from waiting. + “There were fifteen minutes left. ‘That allowed say ten minutes for the music, and five for Bull to get warmed up to his work. The band master rose; he layed ‘*Aail Columbia.’’ The audience, wild with fervor, stormed and shouted; he played 143 it again. The minutes fled by. The seven gasped! The audience kept up their ap- plause, and the music struck up ‘‘My Country, ’Tis of Thee,’’ while the time fled yet faster still. Great Heavens! and still the fools— the fools!—in that crowd clapped and waved handkerchiefs—would they never stop, would they never let Bull step for- ward? He was dying to. ihe seven could see him in his seat, half-risen, waiting doubtless as impatiently as they. And still, the peop:e wouldn’t behave them- selves. Bull rose up? Ah, at last. There was a cessation in the infernal racket! The amount of torture the. plebes suffered during those brief moments cannot be told. The gun might go off at any mo-, ment now! It might go off before Bull started, might ruin the whole thing. Plague take him, what made him walk so slowly? Would he never get up on that platform? And the foolish audience, why didn’t they stop and let him start? What did they want to be applauding that ugly old yearling for? And why the dickens didn’t he stop that fool bowing and scraping? Some people are such chumps! The applause stopped at last. An ex- pectant hush fell upon the crowd. Bull Harris stood pompous and self-conscious, gazing upon the scene for a moment, and then began. The Seven Devils gasped : ‘“We’ve got him.”’ ‘‘Ladies and gentlemen: We have as- sembled upon this memorable occasion to celebrate (now 1€t that gun go, b’gee) one of the most glorious achievements (you bet we have) that ever was attained by man. We. have assembled (what on eatth’s the matter with ‘‘George?’’) to applaud with the voices of the present, words that echo from memories of the past, (can his watch have stopped ?) words that will ring through the halls of time (plague take the luck!) as long as time shall be counted in the heart throbs of living men. The deeds of our ancessors live in the——’’ At last! With a boom and a rattle and a crash Gun No. 1 of Battery Knox thundered out upon the still night air. Bull stopped in amazement; the audience sprang up in 744 alarm; the seven shrieked (silently) for joy: And then—-—— Boom! / It was' No. 2, (Uhe room, rane with shouts of confusion; cadets stared and ran hastily about; women cried out in alarm. Boom! It was No. 3, and at the same ‘instant from a hundred throats came the dreaded ery of (hire)? Three guns is West Point’s fire alarm. Quick as a flash, before the audience had time to think of flight, of panic, the commandant of cadets sprang to the plat- form. ‘‘Company fire battalion form on the street outside, iminediately !”’ At the same moment, in response toa command from outside, a drum orderly sounded the ‘“‘long roll.” The band struck up a quick march, and tramp, tramp, tramp, the grave cadets marched out of the hall, forgetting friends and entertainment, forgetting everything in the one important thought—discipline— obedience to orders. And in half a minute more the gym- Hasium was empty; folly’ as angrily. ‘Nay, my lord, it is no folly,’ replied the prostrate mahout. ‘‘Sultan is brave and strong, but a fight with Shah-in- Shah can have but one end. It may be that Shah-in-Shah will also die, but T care not to see my Sultan’s death.’ Now how this matter would have ended I know not, for just then a cry of dismay turned our attention to Shah-in-— this?’ cried Paul Shah, ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY Rajah had gained his feet, and the mahout, fortunately unhurt, had re- mounted him, and was taking him back to the lines. ae Shah-in-Shah, no longer engrossed by the thought of approaching conflict with . Sultan, had seen the movement and was off in hot pursuit. _ But it was not fear for Rajah and his ‘mahout that made each heart stand still with horror. Straight in the path of the infuriated brute was a little child which had es- caped from its mother’s care and was coming with unsteady, pattering steps toward us. Not a man stirred save one. He, it —was Muluck, with a loud, bitter cry, taced after the elephant. ‘Ai, Huzur! Khudawand! Maharaj!’ he shouted, but the elephant seemed not to hear the royal titles bestowed upon him, and held on his course. But just as the catastrophe seemed im- minent Shah-in-Shah drew up suddenly. Two little brown arms’were held up to him, anda small voice called lovingly: ‘Shah, Shah.”’ The trunk, which we thought to see plifted in anger, was held out to the babe 147 with an enticing curl. The child em- braced it joyously, and crowed with gladness as its big playmate swung it aloft in the air. The tone of agony no longer rang out in the voice of the man who pursued, and with it the titles ‘‘Your Majesty!’ “Tord!” ‘Great King!’’ vanished also. He still ran on, shouting to the ele- phant, but now that his heart’s dearest, the only son of many children, ‘was safe, he called out other names—reprobate, scoundrel, blackguard, thief. Ay, even did he call the bearer of the title ‘‘King of Kings’? the son of a pig in the midst of a flood of Gali, the which we were glad we did not understand. ‘“‘Vou'll have to forgive him,’’ I said to Paul, as Muluck, mounted on Shah- “in-Shah’s neck, with the little piece of crowing humanity before him, approached us. Paul did not answer for a few mo- ments, but as Shah-in-Shah saluted in most humble style, with the meekness and humility of a lamb, he turned to me and said: ‘‘T suppose I must. Whata pity that aman who can control so noble a beast cannot control himself.’”’ By William Murray Graydon Author of “A Legacy of Peril,’ etc., etc, (“IN FORBIDDEN NEPAUL” was commenced last week. Back numbers can be obtained from all newsdealers.) SUMMARY OF THE OPENING CHAPTERS. Nigel Davenant, an army lieutenant. stationed at Behar, in Bengal, having obtained leave of absence, and, throneh the influence of his friends, a letter of invitation from the Durbar of Nepaul and a passport aeross the frontier, has determi:ed to visit the but little-known State. been highly recommended by a brother officer. He engages as a servant and guide aman named Bhagwan Das, who has ) 1M eT i officer. When nearing the borders of Nepaul, Davenant, by a lucky shot, saves froin the attack of a tiger a inysterious individual, one Travers Hawksmoor. : tent. and promises to breakfast with him on the following morning. or. Nigel spends the evening in Hawksmoor’s Retiring to rest in his hut in a neighboring village, Nigel is roused in the early morning by a great outery. Seizing his cap and rifle, he rushes for i sel} 3 g g i ; es forth, and then ver that his servant, Bhagwan Das, has béen murdered during the night. Fj : alee CHAPTER lV. THE GRAY BUTTON. 'l' is murder—foul murder!*’ declared Nigel. He turned fiercely to the head man. ‘‘ Assim Aga, I hold you responsible; the deed is on your head!’’ ; ‘‘If 1t pleases the sahib to revile me, so be it,’’? Assim Aga muttered, sullenly; ‘‘I and my people are innocent. But, come; let us see 2? Nigel and the head man entered the hut, and the crowd, who had edged away from the Englishman’s threatening attitude, now closed up again with fright- ened murmurs. Murder it was, indeed, and evidence thereof was visible, even in the scanty light of the breaking dawn. Bhagwan Das lay on one side, rigid and cold—he had been dead for hours. On, the back of his bead there was a great swollen lump, inflicted by some blunt instrument, and over his heart was the deep thrust of a. knife. Clearly the Hindoo and_ his victim had struggled hard, for there was blood on his gray beard, on the floor and walls, on the disordered hedding of dry grass; and near the body lay a small knife, its haft of carved wood, and its blade slightly curved like a Goorkha kookrie. With tear dimmed eyes Nigel straightened up from his task and leaned aguinst the side of the door. A storm of anger and grief raged in his heart. The death of the Hindoo meant a double loss to him; he was de- prived of a faithful servant to whom he had already become greatly attached, of a shrewd and clever guide, who could have rendered him invaluable assist- ance during his researches in Nepaul. And with what motive had this foul thing been done? ‘*It is an evil crime, sahib,’’ said Assim Aga, ‘‘and a strange one.’’ ‘‘Tt must be avenged,’’ crid Nigel. ‘‘Find me_ the murderer!” Surely you need seek no further than here in your own village. Bring me the wretch who owned this knife—it didfiot belong to Bhagwan Das.’’ ‘Nor is it the property of any of my people,’’ de- clared Assim Aga, a8 he took and examined the weapon, ‘‘It is of Georkha make, sahbib, and I have seen such knives carried by the outcast robbers who prowl in the Terai.’’ . ‘‘Robbers?’’ cried Nigel. ‘‘But Bhagwan Das had nothing to tempt such—nothing worth stealing. We are losing time, Assim Aga. I must get to the bottom o this mystericus crime at once.”’ ‘‘T am ready.to do the sahib’s bidding,’’ the hea man replied with dignity. ‘‘If the assassin be foun he shall die; but he is not of my people.’? ‘ Nigel’s temper having cooled a little, he immediately took what steps were possible, the result of which sim-— ply deepened the mystery without throwing a ray) of light upon it. AJlthe inhabitants of Purna had been drawn to the scene of the crime, and from among them but one witness was sifted out. This person, a woman. briefly told how, while on her way to a pool in the outskirts to draw water, she had peeped into the Hin- doo’s hut and seen the body on the floor; then she gave the alarm that roused Nigel from sleep. Of the rest, not one could offer a scrap of evi- dence. They had slumbered soundly through the night and because of the man-eater’s death no watch had been kept. And the coolies, strange to say were equally ignorant; though occupying a compound only a few yards from the hut of Bhagwan Das, they had heard absolutely nothing—no sounds of sti uggling, no groans or cries. One and all protested their innocence, declared that the peculiar knife could not have come from the vil- lage; and Nigel, as he scanned each frightened black face, searching in vain for sign of, guilt, grew con- vinced that the murderer need not be sought for here. Where, then, was he to look for the man and the mo- tive? When Nigel and Travers Hawksmoor entered the village before midnight they had seen Bhagwan Das leave them and go into his hut. The deed had been done ao long time afterwards, else the body would not now be stiff and cold. What prowling ruffian, cunning as a serpent, had slunk out of the Terai to the poor Hindoo’s hut? Why bad none heard the struggle? It was a black mystery, and there seemed little hope of. unraveling it. It was useless now to search the trampled ground in. the vicinity, but the head man and a number of others went further afield and looked amid the grass aud broken jungle. They returned unsuccessful, found not even a single footprint. having “*T will give thirty rupees for the capture of the as- > sassin,’’ Nigel declared, jingling the coinsin his pocket, i \ ‘looked at the hideous device. i ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. The offer brought an avaricious gleam to the eyes of the villagers, but none stirred or spoke out. ‘‘Tt is useless,’’? muttered Assim Aga. ‘‘The evil ' vogue is already far away—lost in the trackless Terai, where my men dare not venture,?’ ‘“Cowards!’’ exclaimed Nigel. ‘‘I wish I had a few good shikarees to depend on. I do not intend to let the matter rest. First, I shall make sure that I have missed nothing,.’’ He re-entered the hut, followed by the head man. The latter bent down and turned the corpse over on its back, and as he did so a brass armlet that he wore caught the scarlet kummerbund that was around the body, jerking it partly off. And on the naked chest of Bhagwan Das was seen a strange thing—a seven- - headed serpent pricked in colors of purple and red, and done with a skill that was amazing. Indeed, the seven tongues and the seven pairs of eyes seemed to sparkle witb life. There was a‘sharp cry from Assim Aga, and with a pallid face he shrank away from the body. Four of the villagers had ventured over the threshold, and these, too, gave voice to startled astonishment. ‘By Jove, here’s a mystery !’’ reflected Nigel, as he ‘‘f understand now why Bhagwan Das always wore his kummerbund so high— and I never saw him without it.’? He turned to the head man and his companions, not- ing their agitation and their furtive glances at one another. ‘*What does this thing mean?’’ he demanded. ‘Nothing, nothing, sahib,’?’ Assim Aga declared, huskily. ‘*You are deceiving me—you are lying,’’ Nigel said, angrily. ‘‘I can read it in your faces.’’ ‘t] have never seen the like of this serpent-mark,’?’ doggedly asserted Assim Aga. ‘‘Itisa new thing to me. I know nothing of it, sahib.’’ ‘Truly we know nothing of it,’’ echoed the others; put as they spoke they trembled and, in their eyes was. ‘gleam of deadly fear. “Dogs of liars! Will you speak??’ But.all were obstinately silent, and Nigel saw that pither threats nor violence could loosen their tongues; , after taking a closer look at the Hindoo’s disfigured est, he strode angrily from the hut, not a little mys- ied by the strange affair. ‘I will get Hawksmoor’s advice at once,’’ he de- Raed. ‘‘Heis just the man——’? Something that gleamed dully amid the trampled grass and clay caught his eye, and bending over he picked up a button covered with grey cloth. He recog- nized it instantly, and as he thrust it into his pocket a troubled look crossed his face. : ‘* This came from Travers Hawksmoor’s coat,’’ he reflected, ‘‘and it was lying on the east side of the hut. He would have kept to the west on his way back to camp. Good heavens, can it be possible——”’ « He broke off suddenly. ‘¢Assim Aga!’ he called. The head man came obediently from the hut, com- ‘posed, but sullen. ‘Can any of your people find the camp of the Eng- lish sahib—he who visited me last night?’’? Nigel asked. ‘*T know the place,’’ was the reply. ‘‘But yesterday morning I took some milk and corn there which the sahib had bought.’’ -*¢Then guide me to if at once. rupees.’’ ‘¢The sahib is generous,’’ said Assim Aga. do his bidding gladly.’? Nigel’s impatience would brdok no delay, and the two started at once. It was barely daylight, and in the ,dewy fastnesses of the Terai there was a cool and re- \freshing air. Both were silent, for Assim Aga was in a moody and worried frame of mind, and ‘his compan- ion was too prudent to question him further concern- ing the serpent-mark under Bhagwan Das’ kummer- bund. The recent tragedy brooded heavy on Nigel, and his mind was filled with vague and horrifying sus- picions. He even looked to the loadings of his rifle and revolver, though he scarcely knew why. They reached the clearing by the pvol, and on the iron cage hung the skin of the’ tiger, stripped off with rare skill. Nigel glanced at it without pleasure. ~**¢Go on, quick!’’ he said. ‘*‘ Are we nearly there?’’ ‘‘Tt is very close, sahib,’’ was the reply; and the ead man pushed forward at a swifter pace. You shall have ten “Twill 149 Another half-mile of morass and jungle, thorn-grass, and giant trees; then a little glade by a swampy stream, where Assim Aga paused in bewilderment. © ‘‘Flere is the place sahib,’’ he muttered; ‘‘but it is empty.’’ ‘*Himpty !’?? Nigel echoed, hoarsely. Yes, the camp was deserted, and of the recent occu- pants there was little trace—trodden grass, the bound- ary lines of a tent and a heap of ashes that were still warm. Andtoaddto the mystery, there was nota footprint, not a crushed leaf to show which way Trav- ers Hawksmoor and his shikarees had fled, though an exhaustive search was made. That it was a sudden and premeditated flight there could be no doubt; and there were ugly wrinkles in Nigel’s brow as he leaned against a tree. ‘‘I have heard dark things of Travers Hawksmoor,’?’ he reflected, ‘‘but never anything so black as this. Yet what am I to think? By his own statement he was de- termined to get into Nepaul and he learned from ima that Bhagwan Das had a secret knowledge of that un- known land. Circumstances point to the worst—they show that Hawksmoor, after leaving me last night, visited the Hindoo’s hut; that he tried to extract in- formation from him, and, failing to do so. that blows and murder resulted. Bah! I can’t believe such a thing of Hawksmoor—it is impossible. But why did he flee secretly, and without leaving a trace behind him, when he had invited me to breakfast? And how came that button from his coat on the east side of the hut? On the other hand, how could the coolies have failed to hear the conversation and the struggle? It is a deep, unfathomable mystery, and even Sherlock Holmes himself—--’’ ‘‘There is breakfast: waiitng for the sahib,’’ the head man ventured to interrupt. ‘“‘T am _ ready,’'’ said Nigel, rousing from _ his thoughts. ‘‘Nothing can be learned here— the English sahib and his servants have departed long ago. Lead me back to the village Assim Aga.’? CHAPTER V. A TRICK OF FATE. Long before noon of that day Nigel had Jeft the jungle village of Purna behind, and was pressing for- ward with his little party to the frontier of Nepaul; but he was gloomy and dispirited, andthe thought of the mysterious land across the Himalayan spurs no longer had power to ‘thrill his heart. He could not for- get the tragedy of the night, with its baffling and mys- tic elements, On returning from the deserted camp he had bargained with Assim Aga to have Bhagwan Das decently buried. But he did not look at the body again, which was a mistake; for by the glaring light of day he might have made an important discovery, and one of a startling nature. , All the circumstances pointed to Travers Hawks- moor’s guilt, and with reluctance Nigel accepted this theory, in default of a better one. But he was not en- ' tirely satisfied and at times he wondered if the strange serpent-mark on the Hindoo’s chest could have had anything to do with the crime. Before leaving the vil- lage he had tried further, by persuasion and bribes, to learn the meaning of the device; but Assim Aga and his people would tell nothing, and it was plainly a superstitious fear that held them silent. : ‘*T don’t intend to let this thing spoil my trip, if I can help it,’’ Nigel wisely resolved, as he rode along the jungle track in the heat of the afternoon. ‘‘I am afraid the secret of the seven-headed serpent lies buried ip the grave with Bhagwan Das, unless Assim Aga can be forced to open his mouth in the future. But Ihave the button and the curved knife, and if ever the opportunity comes I will bring the poor Hin- doo’s murderer to justice, There is not much chance of that now, I must say. If Hawksmoor is guilty the civilized world is not likely to see him again for years, and if he attempts to carry out his foolhardy plans it means an end of him then and there. To hope to enter Nepau! without the official permission! What incon- ceivable madness !?? As the day wore on, presenting a panorama of varied and interesting scenery to charm the eye, Nigel’s spirits rose a little; he thought more of the future and less of the past. And twenty-four bours later, when the Terai was crossed and he had reached the little vii- lage of Bhimpedi at the foot of the first range of hills, 750 his old keenness to see the land of mystery had re- turned. : At Bhimpedi a change had to be made. The coolies and horses swwere sent back, and a fresh relay of car- riers were engaged. Some hours of daylight still re- mained, and stowing himself in a palki—a sort of wooden box with a bottom of woven cane—Nigel was borne on sturdy shoulders up the dark, tree-clad slopes to the station of Sisigurhi. He was now in Nepaul. Here was a combined little fort and customs house, guarded by fierce-eyed Nepaulese, and when the young officer’s papers were examined and approved, he was quartered in two rooms set apart by the Durbar for the use of invited guests. The rest of the journey may be passed over briefly. Nigel was expected, and soon after starting in the morning he was met by six men of the Residency escort—fine-looking Sepoys, drawn from a Lucknow cantonment. Hvery mile of the way now opened fresh scenes of such grandeur and beauty as no pen can de- scribe, and Nigel was lost in admiration. Stopping only to change palki carriers, he was borne up and down hill, through forests of chestnut, walnut, maple and holly, amid flowers and orchids of every hue; now a great height towered above him to the skies, seem- ingly too steep to be surmounted; now he looked down from the dizzy crest on green valleys and torrents rag- ing over rocky beds; then across a grassy, wind-blown plateau to the base of mighty Chandragiri, where the final ascent was begun. Up with unerring footsteps went luggage-bearers, palki-carriers, and bronzed Sepoys—slowly but surely upward through magnificent trees to the top, where, on a jutting crag an aucient Goorkha fortress stood in proud dignity; and from the open palki Nigel looked out on such as ceneas the world can nowhere else show. Far below him the oval-shaped valley of Nepaul was spread like a panorama, dotted with towns, hamlets cultivated patches, deep-green forest, and silver streams. In the foreground sparkled and flashed the white and golden domes and palaces of Katmandu, the chief city, under whose very walls the rivers Bagmati and Vishumati could be seen rushing together, In the remoter distance lay the townsof Patan and Bhatgaon, and far, far beyond them, toward the confines of Thibet, across the mystic territory never trodden by Hnglish foot was the grandest sight of all—the majes- tic line of Himalayan giants stamped on the dim hori- on. Names to conjure with! Ghosain Than, Diwalgiri and mighty Everest itself! Inthe rays of the setting sun the glaciers and crests were bathed in a soft glow of purple and rose. The Kingdom of Mystery at last! The magic spell of it was on Nigel, banishing the Terai and its tragedy, and he dreamed dreams as he was borne down the mountain-side to Thankote, where he found in waiting a carriage sent by the Durbar, and an escort of Nepaulese troops. The enchantment lingered in his soul during the eight-mile drive to the Residency, an English looking house about a mile from the town, standing in an extensive walled garden that contains also the Resident’s little garrison of one hundred Lucknow Sepoys. He dimly remembered the sentries at the gate, the challenge and salute, the British flag fluttering from the housetop, and the native servants, who received him with courtly manner. Then he woke up to his surroundings, and found himself ina cosily-furnished bed-room, with his personal luggage and every con- venience at hand, and the red sunset sky framed in the open window, A turbaned, white-robed Hindoo, grave of aspect, was addressing him. ‘*His Excellency’s compliments to you, sahib, and he regrets that an appointment with his Highness the Maharajah detains him at present. I ain the sahib’s dutiful servant. If you would have refreshment after your Jong journey——’’ ‘No, I want nothing,’’ Nigel interrupted. ‘‘I am not hungry.’ ; ‘Dinner will be served at nine,’? said the Hindoo; and with a bow he left the room. Nigel felt thoroughly knocked up, for itis no joke to spend a day in a jolting palki. He looked from the window at the darkening valley, and listened to the familiar notes of a bugle over in the Sepoy lines, Then he stretched his tired limbs on a soft couch, and tried to realize that he was actually in Nepaul; and the natural result was that he was soon sleeping soundly. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. He woke up an hour or two later, and pulled: hi: drowsy senses together, The Hindoo had been in the room, for a soft lamp was burning under a rose-colored shade, and his Gladstone bag and evening-dress case were open. From down stairs came a murmur of voices and oceasional laughter; wheels rolled through the compound gates and stopped before the house. ‘‘The Resident has returned,’’ thought Nigel, as he looked at his watch. ‘‘It is long past eight o’clock—I must prepare for dinner.-By Jove, how hungry I am!’’ He was accustomed to make a quick toilet, and in twenty minutes he was ready—wonderfully refreshed by a cold tub, and looking a different man in his fault- less evening attire. i ‘*Tt’s good to get back to this sometimes,’’ he re- flected, catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror, ‘‘What a contrast to the Terai! It’s like a dream now. Even the murder of Bhagwan Das seems unreal. Poor fellow, I wish I had him with me.’’ Saddened by the recollection of his dead servant, Nigel stepped toward the door. But he pulled up sud- denly as the faint music of a piano commenced in some distant part of the house. A woman’s voice was sing- ing, and the song was one that he as a soldier admired above all others—the soul-stirring ballad of ‘*Manda- lay.’’? He never tired of it, and for a minute he lis- tened with the old thrill. Then he passed out to the hall, where he cculd hear more distinctly. From be- low came the familiar words, rich and clear: ‘¢For the temple bells are calling, And it’s there that | would be, By the old Moulmein Pagoda, Looking lazy at the sea! On the road to Mandalay.’’ So it continued to the end, and Nigel lost not a word. ‘*Well sung!’? he said to himself, as he descended the stairs. ‘‘The Resident’s wife, of course, And yet the » voice was strangely like that singer at the Hote Europe in Behar—it recalls Muriel Brabazon.?’ A servant met him in the lower hall, and ushere him ceremoniously and by name into a lighted an luxurious drawing-room. He saw ata glance th seven or eight persons were present, and then he w most warmly greeted and welcomed by the Reside), Colonel Dudley Raincliffe, and his wife, both of whg« he had met the previous year at a reception in cutta. ‘‘Delighted to see you, my dear fellow,’’ sai colonel. ‘‘Was sorry I couldn’t be here to meet you— it was quite impossible. Good fortune has blessed me with other visitors. Let me introduce you to Mr, Lorin Brabazon; he is just over there uy i ‘Lorin Brabazon'?’? gasped Nigel. ‘‘Do you mean the well-known civil engineer of that name??? ‘*Yes, the same. Do you know him??? ‘“‘Slightly. I met him three years ago. And his daughter——”’? : ra ‘*Have you forgotten me, Mr. Davenant?’? broke in a sweet voice; and Nigel turned round to see Muriel. Brabazon standing before him with outstretched hand. For an instant the young officer was speechless, and his eyes looked undisguised admiration. This was not the Muriel Brabazon he remembered—the little maid of Kent. How altered she was! How richly the prom- — ise of her girlhood had been fulfilled! He thought he bad never seen a more beautiful woman, and many men had thought the same. Graceful, not too tall, per- fectly developed, with chestnut hair, rosy cheeks, and eyes of deepest brown, that lent her face a witching ~ kind cf beauty—at twenty Muriel Brabazon was a | type of England’s fairest daughters. nay CHAPTER VI. Lee he } THE IMPOLITENESS OF MATADEEN MIR. —_ ‘*You—you here!’’ stammered Nigel, unconsciously - retaining the girl’s hand in a tight grasp. **Are you afraid that I shall vanish before your eyes?’’ she asked, looking archly into his face. ‘*T should scarcely be surprised,’’ he said, releasing’ her hand. ‘‘It could not be more wonderful than find- ing you here, of all places on the globe. No, I had not forgotten you, Miss Brabazon. That evening in dear old Kent, three years ago, left an imperishable memory.”’ ee ‘Really? And I was but a child then, just in ~ frocks! I fear you are a flatterer, Mr. Davenant.’: ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ‘You are not a child now,’’ he said, gravely. ‘‘You are much changed.’’ ‘*For the better?’’ ‘*Can you doubt it?”’ Muriel laughed. ‘«Three years is a long time,’’ she answered, lightly. ‘*But you are not changed, Mr. Davenant—you are just as I recall you. I was glad to hear from Colonel Raincliffe that you were coming to Nepaul——’’ E ‘*It is kind of you to say so.”’ ‘Because there are so few men here, you know,’’ the girl finished, provokingly. Nigel felt foolish, and tried to hide his vexation. ‘‘T begin to believe in premonitions,’’ he said. ‘A secret voice has whispered to me of late that we should meet again in the near future. Surely it was you I heard singing that old ballad more than a fortnight ‘ago in the Hotel Europe at Rebar?’’ ‘Yes; we stopped there for a night. And to think that you were so near, and I did not know it!’’ The two were alone for the moment, and they moved toward one of the windows. ‘tT do not wonder that you are surprised to find us here,’’ said Muriel; ‘‘but it is very simple, after all. Nine months ago we came to Calcutta, where my father had a contract to carry out some important engineering works; and recently the Durbar of Nepaul invited bim here to give estimates and advice on some extensive improvements that the Maharajah contem- plates making in katmandu—in the nature of water- works and sanitation, I believe. It was a lovely jour- ney here and we are likely to remain for several months, after which we go to Bombay.’? ‘eThen you like India?’’ Nigel asked. ‘It is a delightful country—so full of romance.’’ ‘*And Nepaul?’? ‘(Tt is a veritable fairyland,’’? said Muriel, with sparkling eyes, ‘‘but itis tantalizing to be able to see so little of-it. The Kingdom ot Mystery I call it. I have been here nearly three weeks, Mr. Davenant, and Giese. ‘*My dear fellow, I really must claim you for a time,’’ interrupted the Resident’s jovial voice. ‘‘Will you pardon me, Miss Brabazon?? The girl laughingly assented, and the half-reluctant young officer was led away by Colonel Raincliffe. One by one Nigel was introduced to the guests, who-were not numerous—Lorin Brabazon; Dr. Baird, the young surgeon of the Sepoy cantonments; Captain Talbot, an elderly man, and the Resident’s secretary; and two highly distinguished and rich)Jy-dressed natives of Nepaul. One was Matadeen Mir, the Prime Minister, and the virtual ruler of the State, as Nigel well knew; the other was the commander of the army, General Pershad Singh. Dinner was now announced, and the company passed to the dining-room. To his secret delight Nigel found himself seated at one side‘of Muriel Brabazon, and with more zeal than po- liteness, it is to be feared, the two conversed between the courses. They spoke first of the country house in Kent, and of things English in general then Nepaul became the absorbing topic, and Nigel told all his plans, and promised to guide the girl through the ancient cities of Patan and Bhatgaon. The arranged various drives and walks and Muriel referred in flat- tering terms to certain expeditious against savage tribes in which the young officer had distinguished himself during the past three years. ‘How did you kuow of it?’’ he asked, with pride and pleasure. ‘*) read the papers,’’ she answered, with downcast eyes. ; Was her interest in him real or feigned? Nigel was loth. to believe the latter, and he felt a vague feeling of unrest stealing over him which he was powerless to resist. A new element had entered into his life, hitherto free from the disturbing influence of women. He was intoxicated by the girl’s beautiful face and winning manner, by the perfume of her hair, by the fluttering of her white bosom under its snowy lace. At last Muriel’s attention was claimed by Captain Talbot, who was on the other side of her, and Nigel suddenly became aware that he was an object of close scrutiny to Matadeen Mir. There was something inso- lent and defiant, he fancied, in the expression of the Hindoo’s face, something threatening in the dark eyes. At the moment of introduction he had conceived a deep-rooted dislike and aversion to the Prime Minis- 791 ter, for which there had not been then the slightest cause. For Matadeen Mir was of a type uncommon and rare in India in these days, and a fitting embodiment of the ancieut and powerful kingdom that he all but held in his grasp. He was a iagnificently handsome man of about forty years of age, perfectly built, light of complexion, fine featured, and with heavy black mustache that curled upwards at the ends. His smile was attractive, aud his voice soft and pleasing; he spoke English perfectly. Only a close observer of character could have read in his face the sigus of a haughty, masterful, cruel ambitious, and unyielding nature. Matadeen Mir smiled rarely that evening. With deep- ening abstraction he alternately watched Nigel and the girl; and the young officer, noting this by furtive glances, thought once that jealousy might be at the bottom of the Hindoo’s moodiness; but ‘this was such a ridiculous idea that he quickly dismissed it. It might have been observed from time to time that Pershad Singh also scrutinized Nigel uneasily and at- tentively. The commander of the Nepaulese army was of a different type from Matadeen Mir—shorter and leaner, more wiry, rugged-looking, and with a dark, clean-shaven face, denoting obstinacy and powers of enforcing discipline. Jt was evident that he was under the dominant influence of the Prime Minister. Finally the ladies left the table, and were joined half an hour later by the rest of the company, after an interval spent over port and cigars, and during which the two Hindoos became more sociable. Nigel, sauntering in last, found to his chagrin that Muriel and Matadeen Mir were tete-a-tete in a’dim corner of the drawing room. In vain he waited for his chance, chatting meanwhile with Mrs. Raincliffe. Then Dr. Baird invited him to have a stroll and a smoke in the compound, and as he walked to and fro he could hear Muriel singing, and could see through the window the tall figure of Matadeen Mir bending over the piano. ‘¢Suppose we go in,’’ the surgeon said, at length to his companion’s relief. The music had ceased, and on the dusky veranda Ni- ge] came face to face with Muriel. The girl was alone. ‘Oh, is it‘you?’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘Whata_ fascinat- ing evening !”? ‘*Tt is indeed,’’ assented Nige], who was in a bad temper; ‘‘but J can’t say as much for the Prime Min- ister of Nepaul.’’ ‘*What do you mean, Mr. Davenant?’’ There was haughty surprise in the question. ‘*¥ don’t like the fellow,’’ Nigel blurted out, can- didly. ‘‘I don’t like the way he stared at me all the time we were at dinner, and at you as well; and he has monopolized you ever since.’’ The girl let him runon. ‘‘I know something abont these natives of . the upper class, and Matadeen Mir is an unusually insolent specimen. And he is a dangerous man; his kind always misunderstand the slightest attention from an English woman——”’ ; ‘*Sir, how dare you?”’ ‘‘Forgive me,’’ pleaded Nigel. best. I know I have no right——”’ ‘*You forget yourself,’’ said Muriel, in a low and passionate tone. ‘‘How dare you tell me that I have behaved improperly? How dare you? What a poor opinion you must have of me!’? ‘*Miss Brabazon, I beg of you——?? **Hush! your words insult me. Do you think that Matadeen Mir would dream of. paying me other than friendly attentions? Do you dare to hint that I would permit them if he did? To me he is a gilded barbar- ian, a living type of Oriental magnificence and ro- mance, a page from the ‘Arabian Nights,’ a creature to be admired and studied like a splendid tamed tiger —no more than that.”’ ‘‘T like the simile. But is it ever safe to play with a tiger? Believe me, Miss Barbazon, I know India——”? ‘Hush! I have heard quite enough. I am no longer the child you knew in Kent, Mr. Davenant.’? ‘ With a superb gesture gf disdain the girl swept by him into the room. Nigel turned back to the com- pound, and for twenty minutes he wandered about in the shrubbery, angry at his folly, regretting that he had spoken, and wondering uneasily if he had begun to lose his heart to Muriel Brabazon. If not, why this insane jealousy of Matadeen Mir? ‘*She is the most lovely woman I have ever seen,’? he said to himself. ‘‘But @ will forget her. In a day ‘¢T mean it for the 752 or two I will look for suitable quarters in the town, where I can go ahead with my researches and studies without yielding to the spell of a pretty face. At present this little row makes things deuced awkward, though.”’ When he returned to the house the ladies were about to retire, and he shook hands warmly with the Resi- dent’s wife, receiving only a curt nod and a cold touch of dainty fingers from Muriel. It was now close to midnight, and a little later Dr. Baird departed to his medical duties at the cantonments, followed shortly by Persad Singh. Over brandy pegs and cigars Cap- tain Talbot, Lorin Brabazon, and Matadeen Mir fell into an animated discussion of certain proposed engi- neering works. Ina further corner of the room Nigel and Colonel Rainecliffe sat side by side in easy chairs, the latter telling a story connected with his exper- iences as a political agent, and his companion listen- ing moodily. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ‘‘And where do they come from, sir? Are there mines in the country?’’ ‘‘That is one of the questions you must not ask,’’ replied Colonel Raincliffe, in a low tone. ‘‘It is one of the many mysteries that lie like an impenetrable shroud on Nepaul. I myself know nothing. I have never put foot beyoud certain narrow limits. And you are one of the fortunate few Englishinen who have been per- mitted to cross fhe frontier of this forbidden land. Don’t nope to see more than those who canie before you, Mr. Davenant.”’ There was a warning, kindly but firmly meant. in the words. Nigel so understood them, but it was hard to relinquish a vague hope that he had cherished. ‘*Is it absolutely inspossible, then,’’ be asked, ‘‘to venture a foot beyond the limits?”’ ‘It means death if you attempt it,’’ was the decided reply, ‘‘and, bear in mind that I could do no more to save you than——’? INTO THE DOORWAY BURST MRS. RAINCLIFFE Having finished, the Resident inclined his head nearer. ‘‘What do you think of the Prime Minister of Nepaul?’’? he added. | eg : ‘*]_J have hardly formed an opinion yet,’’ Nigel replied in some confusion, ‘‘I suppose the reins of government are really in his hands?”’ ; ‘‘Yes, and he handles them cleverly; the Maharajah is but a figurehead. I regard Matadeen Mir as even a more powerful man than his predecessor, the famous Jung Bahadur.’ / ‘He has wonderful jewels,’’ said Nigel. ; ‘“Ah, you will see no end to them in Nepaul,’’ said the Resident, taking up the topie with interest. ‘‘The country is a storehouse of gold and gems, They are mainly used for decorating palaces and temples, and are little worn except by high officials and the mem- bers of the court. I believe the Marahah alone has more diamonds and rubies than all the native poten- tates of India.’’ ee ABs Lis’. thy a BREATHLESS AND FRIGHTENED (page 752). The sentence was never finished. At that instant the sharp report of a rifle echoed across the compound, ye allin the room sprang simultaneously to their eet. ‘‘What can that mean?’’ demanded Captain Talbot. ‘*T don’t know,’’ replied the Resident, who was clearly startled. ‘*It is doubtless an accident, Mir. on)? Down the staircase and along the hall came rapid feet; into the doorway burst Mrs. Raincliffe, breath- less, frightened, and attired in a dressing-gown. ‘*T heard the shot!’’ she gasped. ‘‘I was sitting up reading. And before that I think I heard a woman scream. Iran to Muriel’s room; it is empty—her cloak is gone.’’ sir,’’? said Matadeen ‘One of your sentries has dropped his wea- (TO BE CONTINUED.) oR, THE WATERFORD MYSTERY. By HORATIO ALGER, Jr., Author of “The $500 Check,”’ ete. CHAPTER XX. KIRBY 1S SUSPICIOUS. HEN Kirby left the pawnshop and §| rejoined Dean the latter saw plainly that he was angry. ‘It appears that I have to do my own work, though you are in my em ploy,’’ he said with a sneer. Dean didn’t reply. He began to suspect that he would not long retain the place which he at present filled. He resolved to look about him, and if he saw anywhere a chance to get into the employ of some one else to take advantage of it. In.a money way he might not do so well, but he did not wish to remain connected any longer than he could help with a man of Mr. Kirby’s character. At the Commercial occupied the same room. City tor a week. Dean’s labors were very light, being confined to the writing of four letters, one of which is subjoined as a specimen. It was addressed to a certain John Carver, of San Francisco. It rau thus: Hotel, Dean and his employer They remained in the Lake ‘(Dear Sir: You may sell out the two hundred shares of mining stock which you hold of mine as_soon asa satisfactory price can be obtained. I think I ought to get twenty dollars per share, but will accept eighteen if you think it best. The amount you can deposit to my credit in the Bank of Nevada. “Yours truly, ‘*Peter Kirby.’ Kirby watched Dean’s face when he was writing this letter. It was intended for effect simply, and to dispel the suspicions of his young secretary. But Dean had been gaining rapidly in knowledge of. his employer, and he had little belief in his mining property. “How much do you think that mining stock cost me, Dean?’ said Kirby, in a confidential tone. “‘T couldn’t guess, sir.’’ “‘Rour dollars and a quarter per share. would that be on two hundred shares?” ‘‘Right hundred and fifty dollars.’’ “¢Gorrect! I see you are quick at figures. if I sell at eighteen, and I am certain to get that, I shall make a very tidy profit. Let me see, it would foot up thirty-six hundred dollars—a_profit of twenty- seven hundred, allowing the extra fifty for broker’s commission.’? ‘‘Are you going to San Francisco, Mr. Kirby?” asked Dean. “I may; I am not quite sure. It isa lucky city for me. Whenever I go there I make money.’’ Dean could not help wondering whether he made it in the same way as on the Fall River boat. eee ‘‘T have been rather short of money lately,’’ con- _ tinned Mr. Kirby, ‘‘because I was not willing to sell _my shares except at the top of the market. However, J think 1 may venture to sel) now.’’ Dean made no comment. He did not believe Kirby owned any mining shares at all. How much Now, even that ‘‘Shall I mail the letter for you, Mr. Kirby?’’ asked the young secretary. “No; [ shall be going out myself,”’ answered his employer. ‘‘You may hand me the letter when you have put it in the envelope.’’ Kirby carelessly dropped the letter into his pocket, and when Dean was out of the way he destroyed it. It was never intended to be mailed. “To boy looks skeptical,’’ said Kirby to himself, as he sent Dean to the office to buy a postage stamp. ‘‘It isn’t easy to pull the wool over his eyes. I must get rid of him, and that soon.’?’ Two days later Dean and his employer reached a small town in lowa which we will call Clifton. They passed the night at the American Hotel, and occupied a room with two beds. Kirby rose first in the morning and went out, leaving Dean asleep. When the boy awoke he rose and dressed himself. He was putting on his coat when he noticed an open letter addressed to Kirby which had fallen on the floor. Dean picked it up, and was about to put it away to re- turn to Kirby, when his eye caught the postmark ‘Waterford’? and the signature Renwick Bates. Though under ordinary circumstances Dean would not have felt justified in reading a letter not addressed to himself, the peculiar circumstances, and the suspi- cion he entertained relative to the share these two men probably bad in the robbery of his uncle, decided him to take advantage of the opportunity which presented itself to him of acquiring some information on the sub- ject. “This was the letter which Dean read with an inter- est that may be imagined: ‘‘Friend Kirby: I have not received the government bonds which you purchased with the bills I gave you to dispose of. How did you send them? I cannot un- derstand haw such a package could have miscarried if properly addressed and forwarded with suitable pre- cautions. I shall hold you responsible for them, and say emphatically that [regard the failure to reach me as something strange and mysterious. I do not like to express distrust, but I require you to send me the re-. ceipt of the express company to whom you committed the package. “In regard to the boy Dean you understand my wishes. 1 don’t wish him to return to Waterford. It will be easy to get him into trouble at such a distance from home that he will find it hard to get back. You can write me a letter which I can show at my discre- tion to his friends which will discredit any stories he may invent about you or myselt. ‘Renwick Bates.’’ Dean read this letter with eager interest. He felt that it would be a formidable proof against Squire Bates, and he carefully concealed it in his inside vest pocket. : ; ‘“So Mr. Kirby means to get me into trouble,’’ he soliloquized. ‘‘I shal] have to be ou my guard.’’ : Dean went below and tock breakfast. not being in the = habit of waiting for his employer. Mr. Kirby entered — the breakfast-room as he was leaving it ee 754 ‘‘We take the ten o'clock train,’’ **Don’t leave the hotel.”’ ‘Ali right, sir, I’ll stay in the office.”? a ec CHAPTER XXI. DEAN BECOMES HIS OWN MASTER.” At ten-o’clock they stepped on board a western- bound train. Dean feared that Kirby would miss _ his letter and make inquiries about it, but its loss ap- peared not to have been discovered. They took seats, and the train started. Dean caught Kirby regarding him with a peculiar gaze, and it made him uneasy. Was he devising some plot, of which Dean was to be the victim? Two hours later the train had traversed fifty miles, The train boy came through the ear, carrying a supply of the latest novels. Kirby was not in general much of a reader, but on this occasion he stopped the boy and looked over his books. ‘‘I think I will take this book,’’ he said, selecting a Pinkerton detective story. ‘IT sell a good many of that series,’ said the boy glibly. Kirby put his hand into his pocket, and withdrew it with a startled expression, ‘*T can’t find my pocket-book,’? he said. Several of the passengers looked round, and appre- hensively felt for their own wallets. ‘*When did you have it last, sir?’? asked an old_ gen- tleman in the next seat. “‘At the Clifton railroad station, sir. I bought tickets there.’’ ‘Are you sure you put back the wallet into your pocket??? **Yes, I am positive.’? **There must be a pickpocket on the train then. ?? ‘*But I haven’t exposed -myself¥’ said Kirby, puzzled, ‘‘I took my seat here, with my boy, and have not stirred since.’’ **Your son, I stippose?’? ‘*No; he is a boy in my employ.’? ‘‘Humph!’? said the old man, eyeing Dean dubiously. **You don’t mean that you suspect him of taking it??’ said Kirby, in a low tone. Dean heard these words, and he exclaimed indig- nantly: ‘‘I am not a thief, if that is what the gentle- man means.”’ **Of course not,’? said Kirby, soothingly. ‘Still, just to convince him now, you may as well search your pockets,.’’ Dean thrust his hand into his right pocket (he wore a sack coat) and it came in contact with something unexpected. He drew it out, with the lost pocketbook in it. **Is it possible???’ ejaculated Kirby. *‘Just what I thought!’? said the old man, nodding emphatically. **I_ wouldn’t have believed it,’’ said Kirby, ‘‘Mr. Kirby,’’ said Dean, his face flaming with in- dignation, ‘‘do you mean to charge me with taking that pocketbook??? ‘‘What else can I think? Oh Dean,, find you dishonest.’? ‘I know nothing of how it came into my pocket,’’ said Dean hotly, ‘‘but I suspect.”? ‘What do you suspect??? ‘*That you put it there to get me into trouble.’’ **You hear him!’’ said Kirby, turning to the old man, ‘‘What shameless effrontery !’? exclaimed the old gen- tleman, ‘‘I don’t know what the world is coming to. . Have you ever missed anything before, sir?’? **Two or three articles of jewelry,’’? answered Kir- by, ‘‘but it never occurred to me suspect the boy.’ “*It seems pretty clear now.” **Yes, I should say so.’? Meanwhile Dean, with flushed and angry counten- ance, looked from one face to another, but every where be met looks of distrust. It was clear that the major- ity of the passengers believed him guilty. He under- stood now the nature of the plot against him, and the letter in his pocket would bea suffivient proof of it. _ But he did not wish to produce it. He chose rather to keep it on account of the evidence which it contained against Squire Bates. : ‘*What shall you do about it?’’ asked the old gentle- man, who seemed to feel particularly hostile against Dean. : Iam grieved to ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. he said briefly. ‘I don’t know,’’ answered Kirby, hesitating. ‘The boy ought to be punished. “If it were my cas T would have him arrested,’? ‘*No, I don’t care to do that. spectable family.?? Surely you won’t keep him in your employ?’? *“No, I shall feel compelled to discharge him, Dean, you can leave the car at the next station. You are no longer in my employ. For the sake of your uncle and aunt, I shall not have you arrested, but I must decline to employ you any longer.?? Cee fi *‘Very well, sir!’? answered Dean. ‘If you will pay me what you owe me for services, I will leave you.”? ‘Pay you what I owe you!?? replied Kirby, as if surprised. : : ‘‘Yes, sir; you promised metwenty-five dollars per month, and I have been with you three weeks.”? **You have received movey from me at different times, and I owe you nothing. Besides, the jewelry which you have taken will amount to more than your wages, . “My, Kirby, I have taken no jewelry, and you know i He belongs to a Te- ‘How can you tolerate the boy’s impudence?’? said the old man. ; Kirby shrugged his shoulders. “*f have been very much deceived in him,?? he an-_ swered, *‘but I cherish eo revengeful feelings. I hope. he may see the error of his ways, and resolve to lead an honest life.’? **You are too merciful, sir.?? “‘Tté may be so, but he is young, his repentance, ’? f ‘“Mi. Kirby, do I understand that you wish me to’ leave you??? asked Dean. ‘‘Yes. You had better get out at the next station. Here isa dollar. I-don’t want to leave you altogether penniless. Of course I must report what has happened to Squire Bates, who stood sponsor to you,?? ae The train began to slow up, for the next station was near at hand, ‘I don’t want the dollar,’? said Dean, ‘‘T understand your object in accusing me of theft. JI could clear my- self now if I chose, but I am willing to wait.? Dean rose from his seat, and with flushed checks and head erect walked to the end of the car, stepped out on the platform. He stood there, and watched the departure of the train, bearing his late employer further west. He did not even know the name of the station at which he had disembarked. ee CHAPTER XXII. A FRIEND IN NEED. The suddenness with which Dean found himself cag adrift, and thrown upon his own resources, was enoug to take away his breath. As merchants from time time take account of stock, he felt that it would ba wise now that he was about to set up for himself to ascertain the extent of his means. ee He thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew outa small collection of silver @oins and pennies. All told he found he had but sixty-seven cents, and he was probably twelve hundred miles from home. chaices were that it would cost him at least three cents j a mile, or thirty-six dollars, to get back to Waterford. } He would have been glad to have the thirty-six dol- | lars, but he had no intention of going back~ until he : could carry something with him. He did not want to acknowledge that he had made a failure. and The ;/ 7 ? and there is hope of | Dean ascertained that the town in which he was | stranded (for he hadn’t money euough to it) was Granville. mile away, and might at a rough guess contain a get out of | thousand inhabitants. Like most small Western towns, it consisted of one main street, with short side streets | opening out of it, For a place of the size it seemed to | be wide awake, and enterprising, more so than a vil- \ lage of corresponding population at the East. After spending a few minutes at the depot Dean took his valise, and trvdged on in the direction of the town. « What he should do when he got there he hardly knew. fe was ready for anything that might turn up, and he did not worry as much as he would if he had been twice as old. é Dean had accomplished about half the distance when a voice hailed him, ‘‘Halloa, youngster !?’ ; Dean turned in the direction of the voice and his _ glance fell on a man of perhaps twenty-five, who was { The village appeared to be halfa | ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. stretched comfertably under a tree by the roadside. He had a knapsack and wore a velveteen suit. Some- thing in his appearauce gave Dean the impression that - he was an actor. Responding to his greeting, which was accompanied 4, by a pleasant smile, Dean answered, ‘‘Good day !”’ \ “Where are. you traveling, young chap?’’ ‘tT don’t know,’ responded Dean. ‘‘I suppose I am on my way to the village.’’ ‘‘Do you live about here?’’ ‘*No, I live in New York state.’’ “‘So do I, when I’m at home, but I’m not often at home.’? ‘¢Are you an actor?’’ ‘+That’s what I call myself. That’s what I am styled by admiring friends, though some of the critics are unkind enough to express doubts. At present I am in hard luck. I came West with a dramatic compary which has gone to pieces. Iam traveling homeward on my uppers. Permit me to introduce myself, and he doffed a soft hat which he wore, ‘‘as Cecil Montgom- ery, not wholly unknown to the metropolitan stage.’’ There was something attractive in his good-humored recklessness that impressed Dean favorably. ‘*My name is Dean Dunham,’’ he responded, ‘‘not known on any stage.’’ - ‘‘Hixcuse the impertinence, man of fortune?”’ ‘*Yes, if you call sixty-seven cents a fortune.’’ ‘Dean, my boy, you have ten cents tbe advantage of me. If you have any plans that with our united capital we may be able to carry out, my wealth is at your service.”’ ‘*] have no plans except to get sometning to eat,’’ said Dean. ‘ ‘ “‘T am with you there,’’ said the actor, rising with alacrity from his recumbent position.. ‘‘Know you of _a hostelry?’’ ‘Tf that means a restaurant, I think we may find one in the village,’’ o ‘‘Wisely guessed. If you have no objection to my company, we will walk together.’’ oe be glad of your company, Mr. “Vou do me proud, Mr. Dunham,’’ and the actor once more doffed his hat, and bowed low. ‘‘If you don’t mind, my boy, suppose you tell me what brings you out here, .so far from home? 1 came with a com- bination, as I have explained.’’ ; “J came as private secretary with a gentleman—no, A man named Kirby. He chose to charge me with steal- but are you a young Montgom- 1g iis pocketbook, and discharged me on the train, efusing to pay me back wages.’’ ? ¢¢Steal—with that honest face! Why, I’d trust you with my entire wealth—fifty-seven cents—and wouldn’t lose a minute’s sleep.’’ ~ ‘sThank you,’’ said Dean. smiling. ‘‘I hope I deserve your confidence. ’? ‘*So it seems that we are both in very much the same plight. We must hustle fora living. I wish you were an actor.” BWA yon? ‘‘We might give a joint performance, and so pick up a few pennies. Can you play on any instrument?”’ Dean drew a harmonica from his pocket and dis- played it. ‘*T can play a little on this,’’ he said. ‘*Give us a taste of your quality.’’ Dean put the harmonica to his mouth. and. played several popular airs in very creditable style. He had practiced considerably in Waterford, and when he left home chanced to bring his favorite instrument with him. Mr. Montgomery applauded vociferously. ‘¢That’s capital!’’? hesaid. I have an idea. tune is made.’’ “(Ts it? I’m very glad to hear it.”’ ‘¢Let me explain, I amadramatic Jack of all trades. I can sing, dance, recite, and give imitations. Why shouldn’t we give a joint exhibition? I venture to say we can charm and astonish the good people of Gran- ville, and gather in golden shekels for ourselves.”’ ‘*But what am I to do?’’ ‘¢Tjisten. You are the world-renowned Dean Dun- Our for- bam, the champion player on the harmonica, who © has charmed tens of thousands, and whose name isa household word from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Do you understand?’’ : ‘*T shall begin to think I am a humbug.” 7595 - ‘(So be it! Humbug makes money and rides at ease, while modest merit goes barefoot and tramps over dusty roads.’? “That is complimentary to us, for it happens to be our condition just at present.’? ‘(Then let us abandon it! It doesn’t pay. Will you join me, and try your luck with the good people of Granville?’’ Dean hesitated a moment, but only a moment. He must do Something, and nothing else seemed to present itself. If any one chose to pay for the privilege of hearing him play on the harmonica, he had no objec- tion to receiving the money. Besides, he would be at no trouble in the matter. Mr. Montgomery would make all arrangements, aud he would only have to take the part that might be assigned him. ‘‘T am at your service, Mr. Moutgomery.’’ ‘‘Your hand on it! We will, we must be successful. In after years, when fame and money are yours, think that it was I, Cecil Montgomery, who assisted you to make your debut.’’ ‘‘T certainly will, Mr. Montgomery,’’ said Dean, falling into his companion’s humor. By this time they had reached the village. A sign over a small one-story building attracted their atten- tion. ‘‘Restaurant and Coffee House.”’’ ‘(het us enter,’’ said the actor. ‘‘[t is astonishing what an appetite I have. If we are to give an enter- tainment we must be fed.’’ Fortunately the prices at the restaurant and coffee- house were very moderate, and the two travelers were able to make a plentiful meal, though it reduced their stock of money almost to nothing. After dinner Mr. Montgomery indulged ina five-cent cigar, but Dean declined to smoke. ““Stay here, Dean,’’ said his companion. ‘‘I hear there is a weekly paper published in Granville. I will sée the editor, and ask him to join usin the speculation, sharing the profits. The paper appears to-morrow. He can give us a big puff that will insure our success,’’ ‘Suppose he won’t do it?’’ ‘¢TLeave it to me! I have a most persuasive tongue. Granville must not let such an opportunity slip. It must hear me ‘act and listen to your melodious strains.’? 3 Nearly an bour passed. Then Montgomery came back radiant. ‘‘It’s all fixed,’’ he said. ‘‘You make your debut to-morrow-evening. I have engaged board at the hotel for us both.’’ CHAPTER XXIII. DEAN’S DEBUT. The next morning the Granville Weekly Palladium appeared, containing a flaming notice of the forthcom- ing entertainment in which the merits of the two _per- formers were extolled in the highest terms. Dean opened his eyes in amazement when he read the follow ing tribute to himself: - . ‘*A¢ immense expensa the services of ‘‘DHAN DUNHAM, ‘The Champion Harmonica player of America have. been secured. This young performer, still only a boy in years, will spend the next season in Hurope, having been offered engagements in London, Paris and Vienna, -and he is now playing a farewell series of engagements Probably the citizens of Granville have the opportunity of hearing in his native land. may heyer again him. ‘‘What do you say to that, Dean, my boy?’’ asked Montgomery, nudging him in the side. ‘(Tt makes me feel foolish, Mr. Montgomery,’’ said Dean, blushing. ‘‘If it should be read in Waterford the people would never get through laughing at me.”’ ‘¢They won’t read it, my boy, unless it turns out true.”’ ; i ‘‘Turns out true?’’ é ‘¢*Ves. I believe you can win popularity by your playing. Wecan tell better this time to-morrow. If you do, how can we tell but the rest may also come true?’’ 3 ; ‘lf it were the violin or the banjo! But a_ little cheap harmonica !’’ . Mies ‘¢‘Never mind what the instrument is if you know how to handle it. Now let me tell you one thing that 706 - will encourage you: I think we are going to. havea big house.’’ ‘ ‘*What makes you think so??? s ‘*There hasn’t been an entertainment in Granville for several weeks. The people are hungry to be amused, They patronize performances like ours much _ better in the West than at the Hast. There the people are more bumdrum and steady going. Here they are more ex- citable. Now Iam going to give you a hint. Takea walk out into the woods, or anywhere where you will be alone, and practice popular songs. I want you to make a sensation this evening.” ‘‘Tt seems ridiculous, my playing for money!’ ‘*How much money have you in your pocket??? ‘‘Rive cents,’? ‘‘Then it strikes nie it would be more ridiculous not playing for money. Whatever talents we possess our Creator meant us to exercise for our benefit and the pleasure of the community.’? . ‘At any rate I'll do my best.”’ : ‘*Then youll do all I ask. By the way, I am going to have you take the tickets this evening, up to the time of the performance, It will save money, and draw public attention.’’ ‘‘T can do that, at any rate.’’ During the forenoon Dean went to a secluded place a mile from the village, and began to practice on the harmonica. He had a quick ear, and was really an ex- cellent performer. He was unaware that he had an audience till a boy attracted his attention peeping from behind a tree at a little distance. Dean nodded and smiled, and the boy aged to come forward. ‘Are you Dean Dunham, the boy that’s going to be at the concert?’’ asked the young auditor, bashfully. COV as. 2? ‘‘Hiow long have you played?’ ‘‘Four or five years.’’ ‘How old are you??? ‘*Almost sixteen.”?? . ““What lots of money you must have made!’’ Dean smiled. He thought it most prudent not to speak definitely on this point. He was rather curious to know what tne boy thought of his playing. **Can you play on the harmonica?’’ ke asked. ‘Only a little. Of course I can’t play like you.” '{*Do you like my playing, then?’? “You play bully.’? Dean was gratified, not so much out of vanity, as because it encouraged him to think that others also might regard his performance with favor.’ ‘‘T am glad you like it,’? he said. ‘‘Are you going to the entertainment this evening???’ “‘T should like to,’’ said the boy, wistfully, ‘‘but I don’t have much money to spend. I have tu work for a living.” ‘‘He little thinks that I am worse off than he,” thought Dean. ‘“He hasa home, while 1 am overa thousand miles from mine, and with only five cents in my pocket.’’ ‘*It won’t cost you anything to come in,’’ he said in a friendly manner. ‘‘I shall be at the door, and I will let you in free,’’ ‘Will you, really??? queried the boy, overjoyed. ‘Certainly I will. I shall remember your face. I don’t just remind me of my promise.’ Asa matter of business, Dean’s offer of a free ticket proved a stroke of policy. The boy spread among his comrades a highly-colored report of Dean’s won- derful performance on the harmonica, and the result ae a large attendance of young people in the even- ng. was encour- lf - from neighboring towns. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. When Dean took his place at the door he found bir self the object of many wondering and curious glance aud he was at first abashed; but finally, reminding himself that he was among strangers who were disposed to look upon him as a_ genius, he accommodated h self to the position, and applied hiniself assiduously to his duties, : The hall in which the entertainment was to take place contained about four hunared people. When eight o’clock struck it was packed, many having com The price of admission was. thirty-five cents for adults, and twenty-five for chi dren. It was clear, therefore, that the receipts must be considerably over a hundred dollars. The rent of 2 the hall being but ten dollars, this allowed a large margin for profit. Punctually at eight o’clock the entertainment com- — menced with a brief introductory speech from Mr. — Montgomery. = ‘‘Gentlemen and_ ladies,’’ he said, ‘‘it has long been © the desire of Mr. Dunham and myself to appear in- your beautiful village, and at length our wishes are to be gratified. Weshall do our utmost to please you, and if we fail, think that it is our ability and not our will that is lacking. I will commence with a humorous recitation, in the character of an old darky.’? en fle disappeared behind the screen, and emerged in a very short time disguised as a Southern negro. — See This impersonation hit the popular taste. Jt was fol-— lowed by a song, and then Mr. Moutgomery introduced — Dean in a highly flattering manner. Dean appeared with a flushed face, and a moment- ary feeling of trepidation. Making a bow to the audi- ence, he struck up the favorite melody of the day. He really played very well, the excitement of playing be- fore an audience helping rather than interfering with him, and his performance was greeted with hearty and long-continued applause. At Mr. Montgomery’s sug- gestion he gratified the audience with an encore. Among those who applauded loudest was the boy to whom he had given free admission, ‘‘You have done yourself proud, Dean, my _ boy,”’ said Montgomery, when Dean screen. ‘‘Our entertainment is a success. ence is good natured.’ : ‘*T can’t help thinking how the folks at home would — . be surprised if they knew I was performing in pub- - lic,?’ said Dean, smiling. ‘*And making money out of if. best part comes in, I shall go out twice and then call on you again,’ 3 The next time Dean appeared with confidence, being satisfied that the audience wasfriendly. His second ap- pearance was equally satisfactory, and he was com- pelled to blush when he overheard one school girl on the front row of benches whisper to another, ‘‘Isn’t he sweet??? os “Tt seems tome Iam learning a good deal about — myself,’’ thought Dean. ‘‘I must take care not to get conceited.’ Lhe dual entertainment lasted about an hour and a half, Mr. Montgomery of course using up the lion’s share of the time, At last it concluded, and Dean and his companion gathered up the money and went home. That’s where the The profits over and above expenses amounted to eighty dollars, of which the editor, according to the © agreement, received forty per cent, or thirty-two dol- lars, The remainder, forty-eight dollars, was divided egually between Dean and Mr. Montgomery. As the — hotel charge was but a dollar a day for each, they felt handsomely compensated for their exertions. ce [TO BE CONTINUED. |] Pek retired behind ‘the _ Our audi- Follow up your success, my boy, { WINNING WITH THE WHEEL OR The Secret of Ironwood Inn By VICTOR ST. CLAIR A Bicycle-Detective Story of Surpassing Interest (“WINNING WITH THE WHEEL” was commenced in No. 7. CHAPTER XXXIII. BLACKWOOD’S. BUIDED only by the dull hoofstrokes of the horse ridden by Cash Joyne, Kerl Kent pursued his enemy on his silent steed. The road was sometimes stony and often hilly, but in the semi-darkness of the clear night the boy detective maintaineda careful out- > look and kept ahead at a pace which must have caused a less experienced rider to kold his breath. If they had told me of this at Warwick,’’ he thought, as he coasted an unusually sharp descent, “(J would have laughed at the boys. But they would never have dreamed of this, as reckless as they con- sidered me. But 1 must not miss him, for I feel that this is the most important part I have undertaken yet. I wonder where the poor woman is at this moment.’’ With such thoughts as these running riot ip his mind, Kerl flew on his way. At first the steady thud, thud, thud of shod feet grew fainter,as if the horseman was outdistancing him in spite of all he was doing; but after a while the sounds began to grow plainer, until he knew he was gaining upon the horseman. After following the Canton road for three or four wiles, Cash Joyne turned into anotber running off in a northerly direction, and along this way Kerl un- hesitatingly rode. Kerl found that this crossroad was in a_ worse con- dition than the other, so he was taxed to his utmost to keep within hearing of his victin,, who was crowding the horse on at its best, uphill and down. ‘‘Tt must be important that he should get there,’’ thought Kerl, as he found himself obliged to dismount and climb one of the long, steep ascents on foot. It would have been better for the plans of Cash Joyne if he had spared his horse moreat the beginning ‘of bis journey, when his pursuer had no trouble, or at - least very little, in following him. Before he had taken him the animal had been driven hard for many miles, so that it began to falter soon after Jeaving the the Canton road, aud no coaxing or cursing of its rider could restore its wasted energies. This loss of speed enabled the persistent bicyclist to hold his own where he must otherwise have failed. For the first fev miles the crossroad led through a heavy growth, but this was soon left behind and he found himself spinning through an open country. Two lone farmhouses, standing a mile apart, were passed, and Kerl was half inclined to call at these for assistance, but he realized it would be but a loss of time, and cause him to be too late to affect any good at Blackwood’s. Once he saw the dim outlines of the horseman ona distant summit, but that was the only sight he ob- tained of the man he was hunting down. _ Five minutes later he came upon a fork in the road _ where it diverged into two, leaving him in doubt as ‘to which he ought to follow. Stopping and dismounting from his bicycle, he placed his ear close to the ground that he might the better catch the sound of the horse. His surprise may 3ack numbers Can be obtained from all newsdealers.) be imagined when he heard the hoofstrokes of two horses, one on either road! But the doubt he felt was quickly removed by _find- ing that the sounds on his right rapidly grew plainer and nearer. fle had barely sprung to-his feet and taken a posi- tion by his bicycle before a horseman dashed madly into sight. Upon seeing our hero he suddenly stopped, and lean- ing over in his seat demanded: . ‘CGome up the road, youngster?”’ ‘* Yes, sir.’’ ‘(Seen any one?’’ ‘No, sir. Whom are you looking for?”’ ‘One of Blackwood’s patients. She got away about noon and we have been hunting high and low for her ever since.’’ ‘‘J understand. Iam looking for her myself.’’ “‘Going right on to the asylum???’ jerking bis thumb in the direction of the left-hand road as he spoke. CV eg. sir” ‘‘Well, tellold man Blackwood I have ridden the length of the Bent road without finding her. I believe she has gone the other way, as I said at first. Think I will ride up to the next road and take that.’’ Kerl had already sprung into his seat, and without replying to the man pedalled along the road he now was confident Cash Joyne had followed. ‘Wish I had asked how far it is to this Black- wood’s,’’ he mused, but his suspense was soon to be broken, for suddenly and without-any premonition of its close proximity, upon following the road around a pointed base of a high ridge of laud he came upon the grounds of what appeared to be the large estate of some well-to-do owner. A grove of trees half con- cealed the spacious, old-fashioned house and out-build- ings, which were reached by a wide, sanded path bor- dered by twin rows of stately elms. Kerl might not have supposed this place was Black- wood’s and kept on down the road had not loud, an- gry voices reached his ears. Without hesitation he turned into the private way and sped silently along its smooth surface nuder the shadows of the overhanging trees. Cash Joyne was in the act of dismounting from his jaded horse, and an old, gray-headed nian was coming toward him as fast as bis trembling limbs could bear him, as he stopped by the trunk of an elm. ‘(Have you recaptured her?’’ demanded Joyne, fiercely. pees ‘‘T Galeulate we have got to find the witch first. She slipped out like a weasel and disappeared like——”’ : ‘¢And that is the way you keep your pledge?’ broke in Joyne. lishment razed to he earth, you infamous old curmud- geon!”? ee ‘(Go easy, man, easy. Hark! what is up now? Can it be they have found her, and so near home?”’ A woman’s scream, quickly followed by loud, mas- culine cries rang on the night-scene buta_ short dis-— tance away. Then a womanly figure appeared on the top of a low, double wall fencing in the grounds to — the east of the main buildings. ae : ‘(Tf she is not found I will have your estab- _ S 958 an She had barely come into sight before half a dozen men came rushing to the place, one of them shout- mes... : “*Look sharp, boys, and we’ll have the crazy critter back in her cell in no time.’? **Never!’’ rang out her voice, clear and sharp, ‘I will die betore I will be taken back into that accursed _ house.’? It was light enough for Kerl tosee that she was a woman of less than forty years, of slight figure, pale featurés now showing great fear and mental agony. Standing there in the tragical attitude of one defyizg all, she looked very beautiful and noble. **Zounds!’? cried Blackwood, ‘‘there she is. Let her escape on the peril of your lives, men. She is as adroit as the evil one.’’ Upon seeing this hunted woman driven thus at bay, the whole demeanor of Cassius Joyne changed. Hold- ing out his arms in front of him as he ran, he rushed toward her, crying: “Thank God Iam inseason to save you, Lottie. I have ridden many miles to do it.’’ While the dark schemer of Ironwood Inn was ing out this unexpected bit of acting, Kerl carry- Kent vaulted again into the saddle of his silent steed, and throwing all the power he possessed into his work shot past Cash Jeyne like an arrow sent from a strong bow! CHAPTER: XXXIV. REMARKABLE RIDE. traight down toward the crowd of men, the old wall and the helpless fugitive sped Kerl. Old man Blackwood uttered an exelamation of amazement and stopped short iu his angry strides. Cash Joyne turned with speechless surprise upon the bicyclist as he rode past, while the half dozen men were spellbound at what seemed-to them an apparition appearing suddenly on the scene. : **Courage, mother !*? cried Kerl. *‘I am here to save ou.’? a The boy detective had jumped to hasty but it was a happy thought, for the m the word ‘‘mother’’ did more than all eis confidence of the fugitive. She alone of them all, looked without fear-upon the swift coming of the bicyclist. from the instant of his appearance she felt the come to save her. Leaving tae bewildered Cash Joyne behind him and scattering the hirelings of him and Blackwoed to the right and left, he rede down to the end of the wall where the woman was standing. Then, without slack- ing his speed he reached up and caught her by the waist, sa} bar in front of him. ‘*Trust me and we will escaps.’’ It was then Rlackweod and Joyne awoke to a realiz- ation of the situation, and as they saw the bold bicy- clist ride swiftly away with his charge, their eries rang out sharp and anery. **Up and after them, men! Don’t let them get away if you value your lives.’? ‘ Then followed some wild actions. The men pursuit on foot; old man Blackwood followed the fugi- tives with his horse and carriage, while Cash Joyne lost no time in leaping upon the back of his worn-out horse, yelling and cursing the loudest of any one, as he joined in the chase. Sie Kerl could not return by the way he had come with- out ineurring the risk of capture, so he followed the only course open to him—kept straight ahead along the driveway which soon brought him out upon the main road below the House and grounds. ~ He was strong of arm and in the excitement race the weight of her whom he was trying seemed hardly noticeable! His only reply to the wild cries behind him was to increase his speed, until he fairly flew along the road, which fortunately was smooth and comparatively level, He soon leit those on foot out of sight, while Cash Joyne and Blackwood continued their pursuit within nearing, But the over-driven horse of the former was soon virtually out of the race, though the desperate rider _ goaded the poor animal on until it reeled and stumbled in its tracks. — : a _ “Must I be outwitted by that infernal Kerl Kent conclusions, tteranee of to win the of the to save ying, as he fairly piaced her upon the handle. gave ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ee xt last,’’ he cried, fiercely. ‘‘Follow them, Blackwood! Shoot them if you must, so they do not get away. Stop them and a thousand dollars are yours.’’ He might as well have offered ten times that amount, so far as the loss of the money would have been con- cerned. i oe Darius Blackwood was not long in finding that he must have a fleeter borse than he owned to overtake the silent steed with its double burden. Still, thinking that something might happen to the bold eyclist which he could turn to his advantage, he did ‘not give up the chase for several miles. Meanwhile Kerl kept on im®silence, following a strange road but buoyant with the thought that every minute he saw the distance widen between him and his pursuers. The country became more thickly populated as he proceeded, though he did not deem it best to call at any of these houses until at last he had reached a sub- stantial-looking two-story dwelling, when he rode into the yard, saying to his companion: ; ‘‘J am going to arouse the inmates and see if we eannot find help. You cannot go much farther in that position.”? *‘It is easier for me than you. . What an ordeal 1 have been through and how thankful I am to escape that dreadful place. But whe are vou who have so nobly come to my rescue? You called me mother,’’ Kerl had already assisted her to the ground and rapped smartly upon the door, but while he waited for a response he gave the woman his name, though ~ “scarcely prepared for what followed. “‘Tt is my long-lost boy’s name—Kerl! I cannot be I have found him at last—at last! Oh, if it was only light enough for me to see your features. Catch me, I am fainting! I eannot see!?? In the midst of Kerl’s attempt to quiet the woman the occupant of the house appeared in the doorway, and our hero’s joy may be understood when he recog- nized him as Mr, Grandson, This gentleman was ore surprised than Kerl at beholding him whom he had supposed dead, but as soon as Kerl had made the situation plain he entered heart and hand into the work of assisting him. The woman soon recoyei'ed her self-possession suffici- ently te give a brief account of her strange story. - ‘‘My name was Charlotte Desmond before I was married, and iam the wite of Harvey Kent. About twe weeks ago I was taken forcibly from my home and carried to Blackwood’s private asylum for the insane and there confined as if I was erazy. It was the work of Cassius Joyne lam sure. He has haunted me for years. 1 am sure he robbed me of my husband, and he robbed me of my children.’’ Here the overwrought woman broke down completely and it required the attention of the others for some time to soothe her fears. Fortunately Mis. Grandson and her daughters came to the rescue, their womanly tact accomplishing what the rest could not. ‘‘Let the women folks attend her,’’ said Mr. Grand. son, ‘‘while we look after other matters, That gang must be routed before they have tinte to suspect we are after them. I have mistrusted that Blackwood for along time. Youstay right here, while I ride over and see Nettleton, who doesn’t live more than a mile and a half from hee. I will be backas soon as!lcan.’’ While Grandson was gone Kerl velated something of his knowledge of his early life, which was listened to with uncommon interest by Mrs. Kent, ‘“My woman’s beart tells me that you are my Kerl, Have you no momento of your early bome? No trinket that I might remeniber?’’ ‘“No, none. I have this confession of the man who carried me off,’? handing her the paper which had been left him by Mr. Grayson, ‘ They were still talking when Mr. Grandson returned accompanied by Sheriff Nettleton and three other men. ‘*We mean business,’? said the selectman. ‘‘We have decided to go to Blackwooed’s first, and after captur- ing them there gu on to Ironwoad. I suppese you will go with us???’ e Though well worn by the thrilling experiences through which he had been that night, Ker] was de- termined to go with them, and putting his bicyele in the wagon he rode with Mr. Grandson. : Blackwood’s was reached inside of an hour, where everything was found as quiet as if nothing unusual had recently taken place, Though dumfounded by the unexpected seizure, the proprietor of the ‘‘private ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. _,, asylum for insane,’’ submitted to an arrest without re sistance. s This was considerable of a surprise to Sheriff Nettle- ton, but nothing of Cash Joyne was to be found. Neither would Blackwood acknowledge that he had ever seen hinr. ‘*We shall find him at lronwood,’’ said Kerl. ‘‘and I feel that every moment we spend here is worse than lost. Phin must be needing our help.’’ Without further delay the entire party, taking their prisoner with them, started for Ironwood Inn. CHAPTER XXXV. BAFFLED ALL ROUND. Before Kerl and his. eonpanions came in sight of Ironwood Inn they were met by Phin Warden, who came down the road hatless and out of breath. €*T thought it must be you!’’ he panted. ‘‘That is, I hoped it was you. I wanted somebody to come! A man is dying down there by that black water and he is saying strange things. It is about aman he kiHed onee. Old Cahoot is dying, too; thatis, 1am afraid heis. He and this man had an awful fight. You see, I couldn’t find Mr. Cahcot in season to warn him as I ought to, though I did my best.”’ ; In a disjointed way Phin had given utterance to this rather mixed speech, gesticulating excitedly while he was speaking. ‘¢Do you know if Cash Joyne is at the house?’’ asked the sheriff. é “No. I have not been there since you went away.”’ ‘(Our best chance of success lies in surprising the rascals,’’ declared Mr. Nettleton, ‘‘so I think we had better go on to the house as fast as possible. We can look after this other fellow after that.”’ ‘(He can’t live—he is dying!’’ said Phin, ‘‘and I know he is saying something the rest ought to hear. You must hear it, Kerl, for he uses your name.”’ ‘Tell you what,’’ said Mr. Grandson, ‘‘the rest of you look after those at the tavern, see this wounded man. We won’t be gone long if it is of no matter what he has to say.’’ This proposition meeting with the consent of the others, the plan was carrie: out at once, and while the sheriff and his posse started toward the inn, Kerl and aan Grandson followed Phin in the direction of Black ool. But before they had reached the shore of the dismal pond the latter took a more westerly course, keeping in sight of the water but going until he came toa small hut in the woods. This was a simple affair built of stones and pieces of timber, the seams filled in with clay. A stone chimney stood outside the building at one end, and a door opened into the other. The latter was open. As the three drew near the isolated home groans and eries of pain were heard. ‘¢He lives,’’ said Phin. Kerl was the first to enter the humbie abode, but it was too dark for him to see anything. “‘T have some matches,’’ said Mr. Grandson, and in a moment a faint light from one of them disclosed the narrow scene. On a miserable pile of rags in one cor- ner lay an old man, with long, unkempt beard and hair and haggard features. In the centre of the small apartment, on the earth floor lay a younger man, whose moans and struggles told that he was undergo- ing great agony. “‘T am glad somebody has come,’’ said the older of the twain, fixing his bloodshot eyes on the newcomers. “Tf don’t matter if Old Cahoot dies alone, but this chap has something to say that ought to be put down in black and white.’? : ‘‘What have you to say, man?’’ asked Mr. son, kneeling by the side of the sufferer.’’ “¢T want to say something that shall undo a great Grand- wrong—save an innocent man’s life, but IT am afraid. it is too Jate,’’ replied the other, huskily. ‘cE think not,’? replied the selectman, ‘‘if you save your strength. Weare listening.”’ : ‘*Have you pen and paper? It must be written out.’’ “‘T have some paper tbat will do,’’ producing a note book, and a pencil. Goon.’’. - hen while Kerl held a pitch-knot ablaze for a light and Mr. Grandson rapidly wrote down what the man _ said, he made a confession, which if true, should save the life of a human being from an ignominious death. while Kerl and I . 759 The confession made by this man under such painful circumstances went on to show how he had been the tool of Cassius Joyne in all the latter’s iniquities. He not only told many things which will be spoken of later, but how he had in a quarrel killed John Leigh- ton, for whose murder Harvey Kent had been arrested, tried, convicted and sentenced to be executed. ‘¢ And now,’ said Mr. Grandson, impressively, as the — sufferer ended his strange story, ‘‘you swear under the shadow of death that this is the truth and nothing but the truth.’’ ; ‘‘} gwear it. There is much more I would like to say, but it is too late. I have done wrong, but I was enticed into it. Let me write my name while I can. I have one favor to ask, and that is that my poor old body has decent burial. My last breath shall curse the name of Cassius Joyne. ButI want to tell you that the rest are better than he, except his mother. She is the one at the bottom of-all this.”’ Z Then, with a trembling hand, he wrote the signature of ‘‘Joe! Deacon,’’ a name Ker] had reason to remem- ber though the man had changed greatly since he had seen him before. Kerl’s thoughts were filled with a tumult of emo- tion. Events had followed one another so swiftly and strangely for the past twenty-four hours that nothing seemed clear. But there was one feature in the situa- tion he could not forget. With this proof of the innocence of Harvey Kent his life must be saved, which could be only done by prompt action. Mr. Grandson, Kerl and Phin, as well as the one known as ‘‘(ld Cahoot,’’ signed the confession as wit- nesses to its truth. The selectman understood the situation well enough to know Kerl’s anxiety to act. : ‘tT read this Kent’s story in the papers yesterday,’’ he said, ‘‘but I did not take any stock init. I can see now that it portends the doing of a great wrong if the law takes its course. Butit must be prompt action that saves bim, for he is to meet nis fate this forenoon at eleven o’clock.’? ‘Not to-day !’’ exclaimed Kerl. ‘‘It is to-morrow.’’ ‘*No, I am sure I am right.”’ ‘‘7T have the paper Mr. Dorset gave me, but I did not have opportunity to see the date of the sentence.”’ Kerl was running his eye hastily down the column of the paper as he spoke, until the color suddenly left his cougtenance, and he whispered: ‘“It is to-day !”’ ‘¢We may not be too late to save him now, though it will be a narrow chanee. Come, these men must look after themselves until we can send some one to their assistance. We can’t more than get back to the road at sunrise,’? : The sun was rising as they left the growth and stepped into the highway, As Mr. Grandson’s horse had been taken to the inn, they ran in that direetion at the top of their speed, Mr. Grandson saying: ‘“*Ff we ean only catch the early train at Canton we shall he all right to get that confession to the governor in season for him to grant a respite if he sees fit. But there has got to be some swift driving done to doit. I have got a horse that can do it if any one ean,”’ Everything was still about Ironwood Inn as they reached the place, but Sheriff Nettleton came forward saying: : ‘*We have got the old woman under arrest and the establishment under guard, but we can’t find hide nor hair of that Cash Joyne.’’ : ‘¢Well, keep your eye open,’’ replied Mr. Grandson; ‘twe have got something of more importance to attend to just now. Ker! has got a paper in his pocket clears Harvey Kent of the crime of murder, and we must get it to the governor in season for him to save the man.’’ that At that moment a man drove into the yard at-fari- ous speed. It was Mr. Dorset, and he shouted: *¢— made a mistake, Kerl Kent! Harvey Kent takes place this forencon. [’m——”’ By this time Mr. Grandson had turned his horse toward Canton, and he and Ker} bad sprung into the wagon, the latter saying, as they dashed away: ‘“Keep your eyes 6pen, Phin. Will be back as scon as possible.’ Mr. Grandson did not spare his horse, which earried them up and down the hills at a rate which proved its great speed. As they flew through one of the valleys Mr. Grandson consulted his watch, exclaiming: - : That execution of * 760 +2 2 m : He was still holding the watch in his hand, while they were being borne on with unabated speed, when a man suddenly sprang into the middle of the road, shouting for them to stop. Kerl saw to his amazement that it was Cash Joyne, and as they swept on heedless of his cries, he flourished a revolver, firing with hasty aim at our hero! With the report of the weapon the poor horse threw up its head and fell dead in the road! ‘‘Curse you, Kerl Kent!’ yelled the baffled villain, ‘‘perhaps you think you are going to escape me, but let this shot settle it!’’ But the boy who had outmatched him before could do it again. Before the hammer of the deadly weapon fell, and while his companion was thrown head first into the ditch by the shock of the sudden stop of the wagon, Kerl leaped into the air and reaching the des- perate wretch planted both his feet in the other’s breast with a force which sent him to the ground senseless. ‘*Lend a hand,’’ called out Kerl. ‘‘He won’t be able to de any more mischief at present,’? ‘*But he bas ruined our prospect of getting to Can- ton in season to hit the train, and that is enough.’? ‘‘T have one more chance,’’ said the boy detective. ‘I can make it on my bike. You will have no trouble with bim.” . ‘*No—no! I will take care of him, If you can get to Canton in time do so.’? & oe ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ‘¢Mour miles—twelve minutes—we shall just make it, He was not as anxious as Kerl, who caught his bi eycle, which fortunately had been left in the wagon. springing into the seat without further delay. ee Never did he ride four miles in shorter time, and he was hopeful that he would bein time. But as he neared the station the sound of the car whistle rang out shril and clear on the morning air. Still thinking he would have ample time in the stop the train would make h sped hopefully on. His consternation may be poorly understood when he found the cars were not going to stop! ae He had ridden in vain! : a He shouted and waved his hand over his head, but unmindful of his entreaties, the train swept past the Station with repeated snorts and puffs and shrieksas _ of triumph. : Kerl felt like crying out in despair but with that dauntless will of his, which sorely brooked defeat ho rallied, he threw new life into his efforts. He must — pee the train. It would not do for him to fail then ee The three or four men about the station saw him : a bend to his superhuman task with an energy bornof: — desperation, saw him fairly fly over the ground, but at the same time the rear end of the long train was aS disappearing around a curve in the track. : a5 Still brave Kerl kept on in that unequal race, where muscle was pitted agaiust machinery, mortal power against steam, the silent steed against the iron with the life of a human being at stake, {TO BE CONTINUED. ] gw ot BOY BULL-FIGHTERS. BY J. JOHNSON LEAK, f AH an average American boy of sporting pro- | clivities were asked what was his great ambi- | tion in life, he would instantly reply that he desired to be a famous base-ball pitcher, who j} could earn the applause of his fellow-men in 5) honorablerivalry with his compeers. Butifa =————— Spanish boy were asked a similar question, he would reply without the slightest hesitation, ‘I want to be a famous matador, and kill many bulls.’’ To pursue the difference a little further. The studious boy of Spain seldom rises above a desire to be a military governor of a province, a captain of a company at home, or commander of one of those strange privateer- looking vessels which still ply around the gorgeous coast of sunny Spain. This great difference is due both to temperament and education. Spanish boys have no toys; they have very few games. Ata very early age they are left to create their own amusement, and if their home is on the seaboard they have little to do but ramble about and re-fight those grim battles which gave their coun- try such a peculiar prominence in the days when her galleons were the terror of all honest men whose busi- ness it was to go down to the sea in ships. fhe only game I ever saw Spanish boys play was a miniature bull-fight. An American boy would be greatly ‘‘tickled’’ if he could see one. Let me try to deseribe one in a very few words. t my heroes are twelve poor boys who have very little money to spend on implements. They will not encoun- ter much difficulty in securing a pair of genuine horns from a good-natured butcher. These are fixed Upon a box, and a hole is bored in the upright board just be- hind them. This hole represents the point of attack, and the youthful matador practices putting his wooden swurd into it until something like perfection is attained. The horns having been secured and-mounted, a few rags—colored ones preferred—answer the pur- — poses of silk capas; a brush-stick isan excellent sub- - stitute for a pica; two pieces of chip, generally bor- rowed from the supply of domestic firewood, are easily shaped into banderillos, and a_ stout stick, rudely cut — _ into the shape of a sword, is, in the hands of the I will imagine that youthful and ambitious bull-fighter, an effective sub- stitute for the more dangerous Toledo blade which does a service in the plazas of Spain and her provinces. Thus having secured all the ‘‘tackle,’’ the game goes merrily along. Nearly all the boys compete for the honor of representing the bull. Fixing the horns upon his head, he faces the agile capeadors and eventually charges into their centre. It is part of the game for these amateurs to flash their capas in the bull’s eyes, and then retire gracefully, leaving the picadors, with the broom-sticks, to take up the active part of the en- counter. Afterwards the banderillero comes upon the scene, and his chief aim is to plant his wooden darts into the hole behind the horns. If he succeeds he is” the hero of the game; if he does not, his comrades laugh at him derisively and utter words of mild scorn, utterly forgetful of the fact that ina succeeding game they may share the same fate. ne The last scene is unique. The matador faces the bull which is presumed to be wounded and angry. The — ‘‘bull’? charges, and the matador places the sword in the hole; his comrades cheer, the bull staggers and falls; three other boys dart out of a mysterious corner and drag hin away; another boy tootles a horn; “ae fresh bull is chosen; the former matador becomes se banderillero; a fresh matador takes thesword of honor, — and the game goes on. Throughout the burning sun of a long afternoon, these hoys continue this game wit infinite energy and evident enjoyment. : But this isnot only a game—it is an education These boys desire to become bull-fighters, and they know that in almost every town of Spain there are men anxious to pick up promising recruits for the plazas. During late years several companies of bo: bull-fighters have been organized, and these have be come the fashion of the hour. It isa dangerous game, which requires nerve and skill; but Spanish boys neve shrink from the danger, and always show a laudable desire to acquire the skill which they must display be-. fore they will be allowed by their trainers to take part in a publie performance with real bulls. ee Recently I witnessed one of these extraordinary spec tacles in the splendid Plaza de Toros at Santa ( : Teneriffe. ~The sight was one to r emb orse, sbi od of the bull. ~ before the audience could see whether he was injured ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. time. In many respects it suggested painful thoughts, - but these must be reserved. Suffice for the present to _give a brief description of the fight. There were over 5,000 persons present around the ring. The Plaza is roofless, and from the higher tiers there are some fine views of the lovely Aguirre hills which shelter the beautiful city from the north and northeast winds. A large percentage of the audience were actually children under ten years of age. In fact, at all bull-fights there are always a large number of children. Unhappily, Spanish children are trained to regard - bull-fighting as a perfectly natural and proper way of enjoying them-’ selves on Sundays, after they have attended massin the churches or cathedrals in the early morning ! At half-past four the President took his place in the box, a bugle sounded, the great doors swung open, and the gaudily attired bull-fighters marched into the ring with dignified pace and solemn mien. They were greeted with great applause, and the boys took off their picturesque-looking three-cornered hats and bowed gravely in response. The first thought that struck me was oie of regret that so many bright-look- ing boys should be taken away from better pursuits to be thus exposed to peril and hardship for the purpose of making such a strange holiday for the idle and curious. Silence having been restored, the. manager of the company, mounted on a magnificent charger, rode to _ the president’s box and received the keys of the boxes in which the bulls were locked. Then he galloped back across the great ring. There was a moment of breath- less excitement. The boys quietly took off their capes and hats, and there was much competition among the boys of the audience as to who should have the honor of holding them during the contest. This delicate point having been settled, the boys took up their positions in the ring. Not one was more than fourteen years of age, and two or three were under ten.- Few American mothers could have sat still and seen their little boys exposed to the horns of a young bull; but these Spanish mothers seemed delighted at the demonstration which had been accorded to their sons, : After a moment’s preliminary preparation, the great doors of the bull-cage were swung open. All was ac- tivity. J must confess that my nerves were far from steady. I was haunted by the fear of seeing one or two of these bright-looking, smiling fellows being» im- paled on the sharp horus of an infuriated bull; but, to a true Spaniard, this element of danger adds to the pleasure of witnessing these cruel performances. Before I could quiet my nerves, the little capeadors were engaging the attention of the bull. The little fel- lows displayed wonderful daring and no less wonder- ful agility. There was one small boy, certainly not more than eight years of age, beautifully dressed in blue silk, who dashed his scarlet capa right in the eyes Three times he was knocked down, but, or not, he was up again right in front of the nose of the bull, still flashing his tiny scarlet capa as merrily and as defiantly as if nothing had happened. - There are four stages in a bull fight. In the first place the capeadors, with their red and purple and yellow capas, mildly tantalize the bull; then the picadors appear, and the fight assumes a more _ serious and a more cruel aspect. Mounted on their steeds, with long staves, with steel spikes in the heads, firmly fixed under their right arms, they receive several charges from the bull, and plant the steel within the bull’s shoulders. Then the banderilleros face him and discharge two steel darts into his shoulders, and the matador comes with his sword and. endeavors to kill him with a plunge between the shoulder-blades. _ During the time the banderilleros were in action there was a painful and pathetic sight. The trainer was anxious to induce his youngest pupil to face the angry bull and plant the darts within him. The little fellow in blue was evidently afraid of him, and it was pitiful to see the anxious look on his face as his trainer vainly endeavored to encourage him’to the perform- -ance of his dangerous task. Several times he made the attempt, but the darts fell from his nerveless hands before the bull came within striking distance. At last, evidently out of patience, the trainer took the little boy by the back of the neck and held him until the bull was fairly upon him. Then, in a second of evident __ despair, the little fellow faced the bull, and succeeded in placing the banderillos right between the shoulders. From being an object of commiseration, the boy now became the hero of the assembly. A wild cheer burst over the plaza. Several gentleman threw dollars and cigars into the ring in acknowledgment of the deed, and the little fellow sought a well-earned rest behind the barricade, where several of the ladies evinced a strong desire to kiss and fondle him. This, evidently, did not suit the temper of the youthful bull-fighter. It was not manly, and a bull-fighter must, of all others, be a manly man, and the little chap speedily reappeared within the arena, and walked around as proudly as an emperor, doffing his hat repeatedly in response to the cheering. During this time no one took much notice of the bull, who was snorting in his agony, and making frantic efforts to free himself from the cruel darts. Blood was flowing freely from his shoulders. Once or twice he walked to the side of the barricade and cast appealing eyes into the faces of the spectators, plainly asking to be released froin further torment. But he received scant sympathy. Heavy sticks were laid across his back, and he was driven into the ring; the bugle sounded for the last round, and the fourteen-year-old matador advanced, sword in his right hand and flash- ing capa in the left. The boy was beautifully dressed in rich scarlet, draped with costly black lace. I trembled for him. He received the first charge coolly, but, failing to find a favorable opportunity for the fatal plunge of the sword; he cleverly eluded the pro- truding horns. A second tiine he faced the animal with- out roving. Heplunged the sword three or four inches into the bull; but the hunted animal had his revenge. Lowering his head, he lifted his tormentor off his fset and dashed him to the ground with great violence. The audience groaned: I trembled, but the boy scram- bled to his feet, and this time forced his-sword through the bull’s shoulders into his lungs. For a moment he reeled and staggered and bellowed, and fell heavily. lt was a pitiable business, but the audience cheered frantically. Several dollars were thrown into the ring at the feet of the panting and pale matador. Dozens of cigars followed the dollars. The former he picked up and putin his pocket, but he disdainfully waved his arms to his confreres and allowed them to pick up the cigars. These they pocketed, and they would be kept for the delectation of these precocious boys, who were thus brought into unnatural prominence at a time when they ought to have been better employed in school. Three bulls were slain in this cruel manner, anda fourth was turned into the ring for the amusement of any of the spectators who felt inclined to torment him. Altogether it was a pitiable way of spending a Sunday afternoon, and American boys may well feel thankful that it is their privilege to live in a country where these degradivg performances are prohibited by law. These boy bull-fighters have, unfortunately, become the fashion. They are exceedingly well paid; they are gorgeously dressed; they are feted wherever they go; they are looked upon as heroes; and it is small wonder that they become arrogant and insolent during the early years when they ought to be preparing them-. selves for becoming useful citizens. SSK Address all communications to ‘Army and Navy Weekly,’ Howarnp, AINSLEE & Co., -4 Bra’? office. Sor INTEREST TO THE 7, “YOUNG PUBLISHERS ‘? AND AUTHORS “= OF AMERICA 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 a prize of FIVE DOLLARS IN GOLD for the best article written from actual experience on amateur journalism in general. hundred words in length and must be comprehensive in treatment. The articles should not exceed five That is, they should deal of amateur jour- nalism in all its branches—size, composing, presswork, collection of articles, cost of material, possibilities of ad- vertising, methods of securing subscribers, and whether weekly or monthly issues are considered most advisabie. It should be understood that amateur papers in a strict sense, are those edited and printed by cither boys or girls under age. The prize will be awarded to the most carefully written and comprehensive article. A portrait and brief autobiography of the prize winner will be published. The contest wil close November Ist, 1897. EDITOR’S TABLE. The ‘*Table’’ this week is in receipt of several very bright and newsy amateur publications. Among them is especially noted ‘‘The Storyette,’’ edited and pub- lished by Donald C. Wilson, of Lincoln, Neb. The ‘*Storyette’’ is the first illustrated amateur paper to reach us. The August number contains three euts illus- trating stories. They are the work of the ambitious young editor, and, although crude, yet give promise of future excellence. The Storyette is a 16-page paper with an attractive cover; and measures 5 x 6 1-4 inches. The current contents are ‘‘An Adventure in the Rockies,’’ a short story by Frank L. Canipbell; ‘‘Over Bleak Bluff,’? a short story from the editor’s pen;‘‘The Irish Wit,’?’ a sketch also by Frank L. Campbell; ‘‘ After Precious Metal,’’ the opening chap- ters of a serial by R. Rudolph Caruthers, and the usual departments and editorials. A new serial is an- nounced for the September number. Readers of this paper, who are interested in amateur journalism, should, without fail, join the United Ama- teur Press Association, the best association devoted to amateur journalism. By joining you can have your stories published, through MSS. Bureau. This is only one of the numerous advantages. Fee is 10 cents; dues 10 cents per month. For full particulars and applica- tion blanks, address Harry M. Konwiser, second vice president, 36 Barbara street, Newark, N. J. The special convention number of ‘‘The Amateur,”’ published monthly by Jobn P. Miller at Lancaster, Pa., has been received. It describesin detail the U. A. P. A. convention recently held in Philadelphia. The ‘‘Amateur’’ is well edited and contains much newsy matter. The usual departments were crowded out of the September issue, however, by the conven- tion article. The August number of ‘‘Tlre Boys’ Hra,’’ published by Homer H. Martin, of Clinton, Mo., is a very cred- itable publication. Itisa four-page sheet’ (5 x 7 1-2 inches in size), with a colored cover. In his editorial eolumn Mr. Martin announces the removal of the The associate editor, H. M. Konwiser, has two columns of interesting chat. Publishers of amateur papers are requested to send in the latest nuniber's of their publications. Space in this department is too limited to permit the noticing of back issties. H. M. Kionwiser, 36 Barbara street, Newark, N. J.. would be pleased to hear trom ‘‘Army and Navy’’ readers, wh , will assist him in forming an ‘‘Army and Navy’? branch of the U. A. P. A. Admission fee, to be 5 cents, to branch; no dues. All members of the branch must join U. A. P. A. Cash received will be ac- counted for by treasurer. ——— 9 —— —. THE COPY HOOK. THE CONVENTION AS I SAW IT, Ne By ow eae Correspondent, Frank L. Campbell, Ches er, Pa. (From the Supplement to ‘‘Fhe Storyette.’”) It is on the 19th of August when I alight from the trolley car and gaze with admiration upon beautiful Colonial Hall, the place of meeting of the first annual convention of the United Amateur. Press Association. Upon entering I notice our genial president, Hd Weigel of Harrisburg on the presidential chair: Harris Reed, Jr., is at the secretary’s chair. Chas. Heins of New York was appointed first vice-president, pra tem, in the absence of lra Reely, of Baltimore; and Frank L. Campbell was appointed official editor, pro tem, in the absence of T. A. Longenecker. Blue and white were adopted as the official colors. The treasurer’s re- port showed a balance, of $1.45 in the treasury, A letter of resignation from G. W. Darragh of Philadel- phia was unanimously accepted. An invitation was received from the Diamond Club on Thursday evening and was accepted. A reception was held on Friday evening. The election, which was a closely contested one, resulted as follows: President, J. Fred Crosson, Philadelphia, Pa.; first vice-president, Miss Mame Weigel, Harrisburg, Pa.; second vice-president, Harry Konwiser, Newark, N. J.; treasurer, C. |. Geibel, Philadelphia, Pa. ; secretary, Harris Reed, Jr., Philadel- phia, Pa.; trustee, J. Frank Weigel, Harrisburg, Pa.; chief of reviews, Samuel DeHayn, Philadelphia, Pa. ; chairman credential committee, Edith Ericson, Elroy, Wis. ; official editor, James Bresnahan, Jersey City, N. J.; Official Organ, Bits and Chips, 1898 Con. Seat, Milwaukee. The fight for president was closely con- tested, the results being as follows: Crosson 56; Weigel 46, Merritt 43. Miss Weigel had an easy vic- tory, as did Sanimel DeHayn as eastern chief of re- views. The constitution provided for a western chief of reviews, and Don C. Wilson of Lincoln, Neb., was elected almost unanimously. The office of trustee being vacant by resignation of Mr. Darragh, H. D. Baum- gardner was elected. A short story has been unearthed which was written by the late Lord Tennyson when he was only fourteen years of age. It was entitled ‘‘Mungo the American,’? aud was brought out in brown paper covers. Ihe book was presented to Miss Jane Yonge, for a long time governess in the Tennyson family, and the tale is not at all badly written for so young an author. a S35 OUR JOKE DEPARTMENT. LS. ae: Rs “Sy” a° “SQ? 4 Sag SS ae AS SS 4 —~ \) My“ Hairbreadth Escapes. An African traveler was recounting to a company his hair- breadth escapes in the jungles about the great equatorial lake region. e had encountered there, he said, the most savage and blood- thirsty race of men in the world. ‘t As we were march- ing,’’ the traveler re- lated, ‘‘from Nmgosji to Gohangbo, we sud- denly found ourselves in the midst of a most terrible and desperate combat. And at what odds! Ten to one!’’ ‘““Were you one of the ten?’’ asked a by- stander. ‘*Sir,’’ said the ex- 5d A Busy Household. Sociable Minister—‘‘Do you read your Bible every day, my little dear?’’ Littlé Dear—‘‘No, indeed. I don’t have time. I’m too busy helping mamma stone raisins and things, so s to always have something nice for dinner every ne you come,’’ a Accustomed to Luxuries. *, Nicefellow (exhibiting penknife) —‘‘This handle are silver, What do you think of that?”’ ittle Girl—‘‘Huh! That’s nothing. Sister’s teeth is . a plate of pure gold.”’ a Special Reporting. _ Excited individual gives account of a recent ex- plosion in the street: ‘‘Wifty persons were killed on the spot, and one of them was literally blown to pieces !7? Reporter (pushing his way through the crowd) — Beg pardon, can you tell me how many ‘pieces?”’ my, (I PtGO. plorer, grandiloquent- ly, ‘‘I wish you tq understand that I was one of the one!’’ 5 Special Thanks. A. student who had made very little pro- gress, in taking leave of one of his tutors, began thus with great pathos: | ‘‘ Professor, it is to you I am _ in- debted for all that I know——”’ “Stop, stop, I pray!’? replied the tutor; ‘*do not men- tion such a trifie.’’ 5d * * The Worm Turns, Newspaper Bore (cheerily)—‘‘How de do? How de do? How you getting along?”’ Editor (wearily)—‘‘Not very well. ‘T'oo many inter- ruptions.”’ we Still Young. Teacher—‘'I am surprised that you are not further advanced. You are extremely backward for your age.’’ Little Girl—‘‘Yes’m. Mamma wants to marry again.’’ : > Short Enough. Stranger—‘‘I see it is proposed to shorten New York into ‘‘Nork.”’ Gotham Host—‘'Oh, noneed. N’ Yo’k is short enough as it is.’? we Many Can Play. Teacher-—‘‘What is the meaning of the sentence, ‘There is always room at the top?’ ”’ Bright Boy—‘‘I guess they is talkin’ ’bout a whip- . o oe ~ £RMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. The Biggest and Best Or FIVE-CENI MAGAZINES Is THE YELLOW BOOK.. Its Jokes and Funny Sketches Spread Smiles all over the Land. Its Short Stories are Clean, Clever and New. Its Pictures Rank with the Art-work of Many More Costly Publications. It Can be Bought Everywhere and Always for 5 Cents. Published Monthly, 50 Cents by the Year. HOWARD, AINSLEE & CO., NEW YORK. LATEST SPIRITUALISTIC SENSATION! gsi prom and APPARATUS for Raising an ORDIN+ eo BLE. Can be performed with greatest ease ; on NSTAGE or PARLOR, Any one possessing this ap- paratus and explanation may cause any Table, in any room, to move aboutand Dancy aT WiLL.Can be done anywhere, with sleeves rolled up,as performed byMiss ANNA Eva Fay. This Illusion is marvelous, and can- not be detected. sent prepaid on receipt of 5G Cents. NJo J. MUTSCHLER & CO. 8 Dealers & Importers in MAGICAL APPARATUSES. Box 825, Chicago, bil. Send stamp for catalog of Tricks in Magic & Illusions Mention Army and Navy Weeklv Great C. M. , FREE. Send us Names of 5 Boy Friends. SECRE Address with aah THE BTAR; Box B-10, OAK PARK, ILL. Mention Army and Navy Weekly. 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 is a mistake. Photography is a clean, light, and pleasant ac- complishment, within the reach of all. The camera will prove a friend, reporter, and helper. With a very inexpensive camera any boy or girl can now learn not only to take good pietures, but pictures that there is everywhere a demand for at remunerative prices. A complete guide to this fascinating art, entitled AMATEUR MaNuaL OF PHOTOGRAPHY, Will be sent on receipt of ten cents. Socl ETY. FOR BOYS. Fullinformation about tue MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York. BOYS AND GIRLS. is your chance to get orders for our Great American Tea WATCHES, CLOCKS, TEA SETS AND TOILET SETS, TEAS, COFFEES, &c. Send tor new The Co 31 & 33 Vesey St., New York. N: Y. P. O. Box 289, B R F FE with $5, $7 and $10 orders. Now Premium and Reduced Price List. Mention Army and Navy Weekly. ATORMONS TABLETS f cure all disorders of the Liver, Stomach, and Bowels, Headache, Dyspepsia, Con- stipation, Biliousness, Dizzi- ness ; Clears the Complexion, Increases the Appetite, Tones the System, and is a Sure Remedy for Depression of Spirits, General Debility, Kidney Complaints, Nerv- ousness, Sour Stomach, Dis- turbed Sleep, ete. PRICE, 25 CENTS PER BOTTLE. These tablets are sugar- costed and pleasant to take. One tablet gives quick relief. Address TORMONS CHEMICAT CO., 2, 4,6, 8 Duane St NEW YORK. Mention Army and Navy Weekly. OUT-DOOR SPORTS. Complete instructions for playing many of the most popular out- of-door games is found inthis kook. The games are illustrated and very easily mastered. Price ten cents. Address MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New Vork MOTHER Be sure to use “Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup” for your children while Teething. 25 cents a bottle A BBM WM WM Vas. ssssss HiS ILLUSTRATION shows the after-deck of Uncle Sam’s splendid _ steel cruiser, “Brooklyn,” which so ably represented the United States at the Jubilee Ceremonies in England. The view is given from the stern railing, and it shows the after-turret with its twin formid- able guns. The quarter-deck of a man-of-war is sacred ground, atid at represents, in its narrow limits, the very majesty of a naval captain’s autocratic power. Upon it is held the ordinary service “court,” where minor delinquents among the crew are tried and their punishments read to them. Officers and sailors alike touch their caps when they step upon it, and, while in port, the officer of the deck makes it his vantage ground from which he controls the ship. It was upon the quarter-deck of the “Victory” that Nelson received his mortal wound, and from the quarter- deck of his ship that Commodore Perry issued his world-famed and stirring request, “Don’t give up the ship.” SSR SRSLY SESS SISOS SITU SEO SLUR Army and Navy Weekly. —

, iY, + }, oY, S, x Y, x oy, ae ~, Sy, ~: > ¢, 22 <>) : <>), > : Oo o > SS $, : S. $. S: >: o SRO GRUECZEBOUCE Address Army and Navy Weekly, 238 William St. «_HOWARD, AINSLEE & COMPANY, New York City. ae Mis SOON OOOO LOREX GLOLO ROO LHLG RoE ODPL RPG HLOKH GG LOR