SPECIAL FEATURE! A fascinating novelette on naval cadet life at Annapolis, complete in this number. COHee heed thet COR CO EHO THO C4008 WITH A FRIGHTENED CRY, NIGEL FELL” THROUGH. THE GAP. (From ‘‘In Forbidden Nepaul,”’ by Wm. Murray Graydon). Bol. 1. No. 20 OCTOBER 30, 1897 Subscription Price, $2.50 per year EF MESS ROOM. UNITED STATES NAVAL ACADEMY. By JOSEPH CORE ahi e r. In the language of the sailor, the dining-room at the Naval Academy is known as the mess room. It occupies one-half of the entire lower floor of New Quarters, being to the right of the main entrance, and is large enough to accommodate easily the entire battalion at one sitting. The tables are long, each capable of seating twenty-six cadets, and are arranged in three rows with wide aisles between. As is the case throughout the whole building, there is very little decoration of any kind in the mess room, the only kind being in the nature of old and time-honored flags and a few tablets showing record-breaking feats at rowing and rifle practice. The large force of colored waiters, under the direction of a competent head waiter, is kept con- stantly scrubbing and polishing the room, the furniture and the mess equipage, so that at all times they are in a con- dition of cleanliness and order quite in keeping with military exactness. ‘ The seating arrangement is made at the beginning of the academic year, and unless there is some special cause for a change each cadet keeps his allotted place throughout the year. The arrangement is by companies, and when the battalion marches into the room the first company advances to the farthest end and occupies the section of tables there. The others follow in order and take their places in similar manner. The cadet officers and petty officers are seated at the ends of the tables with the lower classmen occupying the centre. Near the middle of the room is the staff table at which are seated the Officer-in-Charge, the Officer-of-the-Day and the cadet Lieut.-Commander, who is the highest ranking cadet officer and who is in command of the battalion. At the sound of mess call three times a day the cadets “‘fall in’? under command of their cadet captains who join their companies into ‘‘battalion front.” In good weather the formations are on the main walk leading to quarters, and at other times they are in the long corridor on the first floor of the building. After all orders have been read by the adjutant the battalion is marched into the mess room in ‘‘column of fours.” As soon as every one is at his place standing quiet behind his chair, the order ‘‘Seats!’’ is given, and immediately all settle down to the meal before them, and to the enjoyment of almost unrestrained conversation with chums and classmates about the trials, failures and prospects of the day’s work. The ‘‘plebes,” however, are supposed to say very little and to speak only when spoken to. About half an hour is allowed for each meal, and at the end of that time the order “‘Rise! March Out!” is giveg at which all leave the room in an orderly manner and go their respective ways. 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 STREET & SMITH, 238 William Street, New York. Copyrighted 1897. Editor, - - - ARTHUR SEWALL. October 30, :897.- Mol 12 -No, 20; Price, Five Cents, CONTENTS OF THIS NUMBER: Mark Matllory’s Peril (Complete story), Lieut. Frederick Garrison, U. S. A, Clif Faraday’s Hazard (Complete story), Ensign Clarke Fitch, U. S..N. ‘The Cheltenham Military Academy (Illustrated Sketch) Joseph Coblentz Groff In Forbidden Nepaul (Serial), William Murray Graydon. : : : . Dean Dunham (Serial) Horatio Alger, Jr. 4 - ‘Tom Feawick’s Fortune (Serial), Frank H. Converse . ‘Rules and Regulations of the United States Military Academy Rules and Regulations of the United States Naval Academy . : : Editorial Chat, . . : : : ; : : ; ; Department Athletic Sports, .. Po te, ; ; : : : Department Items of Interest all the World Over : : : : ; : Department Correspondence Column, ~ : Se ; ; : ; Department Stamps Column; : ee : : : : : ae Department _ Amateur Sop eaten ree ae ' ‘ : : : Department Our Joke Department. SPECIAL NOTICE.—The result of the prize contest concluded in No. 15 will be announced next week. PRIZE CONTEST. POCKET MONEY FOR CHRISTMAS! HE publishers of the Army and Navy Weekly are desirous of obtaining the _ opinions of their readers on the military and naval cadet stories now running, and for that purpose offer the following prizes for the best letters on the subject. TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS divided into FIVE PRIZES of FIVE DOL- LARS EACH will be given for the five most sensible opinions as to which is the best written and most interesting story of the ten to be published in Nos. 19, 20, 21, 22 and 23 of the Army and Navy Weekly. Letters should not exceed two hun dred words in length. This contest will close December Ist, 1897, Mark Mallory s Peril; THE PLOTTING OF AN ENEMY. Bw ‘Liéut. Brederick Garrison, U.S. A. CHAPTER I. THE JOY OF THE YEARLINGS. ‘*Hey, fellows! What do you think? Mark Mallory’s in disgrace. ’’ ‘‘In disgrace?’ Yes, and he’s going to be fired. Whoop!” The first speaker was a tall heavily built fellow, with coarse features and a closely cropped ‘ builet’’-head. = He wore the uniform of a West Point cadet. At the moment he was red in the face and | breathless as the result of a long run . across the parade ground. At the end of it he had burst suddenly into the midst of a crowd of his class-mates with the ex- cited exclamation above. The effect upon them of the startling announcement was electrical. To a man they had leaped to their feet, with expres- sions of delight they made no effort to conceal. Evidently this Mallory, whose -~ misfortune was announced, was a very unpopular personage with them. _ “How do you Know it, Bull?’ de- manded one of the crowd. ¢ ‘The superintendent has-sent for him tioht im the middle of drill,’ cried Bul) a. # OW hat for?” ‘*I don’t know. It’s something he’s been doing. One of the orderlies told me- he heard the old man say he’d fire him. And that’s all I know.” The babel of confused sad aed voices that resulted from this bit of news ~ lasted without eee for several minutes. lis too good to Es true, » they vowed: oN Re. “By George, just as we were talking -about him, wondering how we could get square with the confounded plebe, for his going to be. tricks! And now he’s fireds? And then siddenty Bull’s voice rose above the excitement again. . ‘‘Look! Look!” he erred; {Sli yeu: don’t believe me look and see for your- selves. There he goes now!” The cadets stared across the parade ground and then shouted aloud for joy. Down on the road by the cavalry plain a single lone figure was walking, a figure clad in the ‘“‘plebe’’ uniform. And the figure was that of Mallory! The cadets of that crowd were most of them yearlings, or third classmen. ‘The sworn enemies and tormentors of the plebes, as the new arrivals of the fourth class are called. The reason for their. hatred.of this particular plebe, Mark Mal- lory, was that whereas plebes are expected to be meek and gentle, to submit to haz-— ing tamely, this plebe had been far otherwise. He was the most unhazable plebe that ever West Point had seen. B. J. is the cadet’s way of denoting a plebe whois ‘‘fresh.’’. It stands for before June—too previous. B. J., and unpopular for that reason. Mark Mallory was a sturdy youth who hailed from Colorado. Hazing he would not stand. He had defeated in a fight the best man the yearlings could send to cure him of that foolish notion; and worse still he had gotten other plebes as bold as himself to join a secret society called the Seven Devils for the purpose of resist- ance. So well had they resisted that Mal- Noe ae - € < 2 Plame And Mallory was -_ ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. Jory had been there a month unhazed, and was even growing so bold with his success that he had dared to turn round and haze the hazers. The climax had come last night. Mal- - Jory had done something West Point had ~ never dreamed of before, something that had set the cadets simply wild with rage and vexation, that had brought them to- _ gether that morning in the indignation Meeting Bull had so suddenly inter- rupted. Mallory had dared to go toa West Point hop! Not only had he dared to go, but he had gotten all the girls, who by this time admired him as a hero, to promise to_ dance with him. And so successfully had he worked the scheme that there was no ene to dance with the enraged cadets at their own’ entertainment. wonder, therefore, that they hailed with joy the announcement that he was to be -fired.’? ~ Mark Mallory as he walked did not ob- serve the group of cadets who were glar- -ing at him so angrily. It would not have __worried him if he had, for he had some- thing a good deal more important to oc- _'eupy his mind just then. He was rack- ing his brains to think of some plausible reason to account for his errand at the moment. He had been, along with: the rest of the plebe company, lined-up on one side of the camp for drill. A _ tactical offi- cer had been rigidly putting them through the manual of arms, with half a dozen yearling corporals and file closers aiding him. Andthen, breathless with running, an orderly had burst upon the =~ scene. He had a note in his hand, and he handed it to the ‘‘tac.’’ The latter read it, then read it aloud (again. ) “Cadet Mallory will report to the su- perintendent at once.’ : ' That was all;.the rest of the class Stared and wondered, and Mark stépped out of the line, handed his gun_-to the or- - derly, and strode away from the scene. The yearlings; as we have seen, had a good deal clearer notion of why Mark was wanted-than he had himself. To _ Mark it was an absolute mystery; he _ knew no reason on earth why the super- _ intendent should want him, and he quick- _them then. Tt_4s small” ened his pace so as to get there and find out the sooner. Erect and firmly stepping as was the — plebe’s habit by this time, he marched — down the road toward the Academy building, between the parade ground and the Cavalry Plain. He passed the Chapel, : and then the Headquarters Building, his destination, lay before him. Mark had entered that building just three times be- | fore this. He could not help thinking of The first time, he had felt, was the most momentous moment of all his life. Months of struggling were there crowned with a triumph that had seemed to leave no- more worlds to conquer. For he had entered that building then to take the oath of allegiance as a duly certified and admitted ‘‘conditional cadet.’ What that had meant to Mark only | those who have followed his history can appreciate. Poor and friendless, he had seen West Point as a heaven, the object of all his future hopes, an object far away from his home in Colorado, but one to be struggled for and hoped for none the less. He had earned the money to come by a ~ sudden stroke of cleverness—one step. After that he had striven for the appoint- ment, a step far longer and harder, yet _ one that must be taken. _ The Congressman of that Colorado dis- trict had held a competitive examination. Mark had tried, and also his deadly -enemy, one Benny Bartlett, arather weak, malicious youth, spoiled by the old squire, his father. Benny had sworn to win, and was. desperate when he realized he couldn’t; he had bribed a printer’s devil, gotten the examination papers, and so passed ahead of Mark, who was made alternate. But Mark had afterward beaten Benny at the West Point examina- tion, where cheating was impossible, and had thus secured the long coveted cadet- ship. So narrow was his escape from failure: and it was that escape he had celebrated the first time he entered the superinten- dent’s office. ae The second time had been a yet more memorabie one, to receive the superinten- dent’s thanks for his heroic rescue of Grace Fuller, a beautiful girl who had — since become his stanch friend and ad- eS ee roe ete Ss working man. . miter, and who a aided him so success- fully in outwitting the cadets at the hop.- In fact, it was due to her entirely that the girls had been induced to join in the - scheme. The third time had come* but a few days before, when Mark had dared to - plead the cause of a wild chum of his, an ex-cowboy from Texas, when he had gotten for the lad, who was about to be dismissed, one chance more to retain his cadetship—a service which Texas had never forgotten. - _ Those were the three times. This was the fourth, but what would be the out- come of this. Mark found himself unable — even to guess. While we were talking about him he had gone inside. It would be well to stop and follow him, for momentous things were destined to result from this visit, too. It was indeed true, as the yearlings so joyfully learned, Mark Mallory was in deep and serious danger. An orderly showed him promptly to the office of Colonel Harvey, the superin- tendent. Mark found that gentleman alone in the room, the same room where he had_ been received so kindly before. But this time the stern old officer seemed less cordial. There was a chilly air about it all that nade the plebe feel rather un- _comfortable.. Colonel Harvey did not speak; he did not even look up from the paper on which he was writing; and Mark stood by at attention, ae re- ~ _ spectfully. ‘The first movement did not come from either of them. eyes to the front, which was in accord- ance witli orders. But he could not help glancing about the room a little. And to his surprise he saw a side door open and _ another figtire enter the room. Mark did not see that just at the mo- iment the colonel’s glance was fixed upon [= iin steadtastly ; he was too busy staring atthe stranger. The stranger was a young _ fellow with coarse features, evidently a - - He twisted his hat in his hand nervously, obviously ill at ease. He stared at Mark and at the officer alter- nately. Mark, who did-not know him. ed away after the first = thought ce ee . lanes giv ‘well to be mistaken. Mark strove to keep his — - emphasis. oe oo ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. Se oe intruder ere to wonder what he was: eS doing in that office. re When Mark turned his eyes “upon Colonel Harvey again he saw then that the latter was watching hims And amo- ment later the colonel laid down his De and spoke: ‘*Cadet Mallory,’’ he said sternly, ‘‘I wish you to observe this man. Do you know him?” - Mark stared at the stranger in amaze- ment. ‘No, sir,’’ he said. ‘I never saw him before, to my knowledge.’’ “Are you sure 2” ‘Perfectly.’ There was a moment’s pause after that, and then the superintendent tapped a bell upon his desk. It was answered at once. The same door opened again, and two persons entered suddenly. Mark knew them, and he knew them well. He stared at them incredulously, gasping ; and he- sprang back in amazement. a ‘“Benny Bartlett!’ he cried. ‘*You here! And the squire!”’ ; ee es CHAPTER II. BENNY BARTLETT’S SCHEME, It was Benny Bartlett sure enough; Mark knew his sallow, deceptive look too And the squire was — the same stout and _ blustering, assertive old man. tion and saw his look of surprise. “Ves, sir,’ he cried, And I observe you start with guilt when you see him, too”? Mark stared at the two all the harder then. And there was a brief silence during which every one stared at every one else. - Mark thought he saw the stranger twist his cap yet more nervously. OMe. “Mr, Mallory, do you — know why these three are here?’ — DINO, Sit,” saad Mark, with evident “ds -this upon: your honor as a gentle: man??? — a . Sf isi? Wane answer. ce self- . He banged ie cane =. ou the floor as he heard Mark’s exclama- —__ “Itis the squire. Malloty,’? began the superin- tendent at. last. ~~ they?’ ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ~ “Tf you please,’’ interrupted Colonel _ Harvey with dignity, ‘‘that question is for me to settle. Mr.—er—what did you sav thisaman’s name was??? **Nick,’? put in the squire. ONick.” said the superintendent, turn- ing toward the strange youth, ‘‘will you please have the goodness to tell again the story which you told to me.”’ Nick looked frightened and hesitated. ““Come, come!’’ cried the squire, im- ‘patiently. ‘‘Out with it now, and no lies about it!” : Thus enjoined Nick cleared his throat and began. 1 ina priuter’s boy,” he said, “and | works: for the Roberts in Denver. I was a-walking along the street one day, I was, and up comes this feller (indicating ., Mark) and he says, says he to me, ‘Your people are -printing the examination papers for Congressman Wheeler, ain’t oes,” a little while he says that he wants to win them examinations, a feller trying “em. that he wanted to beat. So he gimme a hundred (that was the wext day ; che said He d-earned it in a railroad smashup, or something) ; and then I got thein papers and gave ’em to limi. And that’s ail I know.’ ‘‘Very good,’’ commented the squire, tapping his cane with approval. ‘‘Very -good! And what did he say about these West Point examinations ?”’ “He said, says he, ‘If I win these here and git the appointment, I ain’t a-going to do nothin’ but skin through the others with cribs.’ ”’ ‘“That’s right!’ cried the squire, tri- umphantly. ‘‘There now! What more do | you want?’’ He glanced at the superintendent in- quitingly, and the superintendent gazed at Mark. As for Mark, he was simply too dumbfounded to move. He stood as if glued to the spot and stared in blank con- ae _sternation from one to the other. = ‘Well,’ said the colonel at last, _‘“what have you to say for yourself ?’? Mark was too amazed to say much. —_ “So this is their plan!’ he gasped. oe they seek to rob me - of Bs Se b tlemen of a plot to ruin ee came and told me. says I, and then after that ~ *cause there was _ Benny made a cadet. Harvey. said. a troubled look. to-says he: did not know. what to thin _ He could not call: ke three J ~*Colonel-Harvey,’’ he inquired at last, ‘‘may I ask if you believe this story ?”” ‘*I do not see, Mr. Mallory,’’ was the response, ‘‘what else [am to believe. I do not like to accuse these three gen- And yet— and yet——”’ ae “May Task a question or two?” in- quired Mark, noticing the puzzled and worried look iwpon his. superior’s face. ‘*Most certainly,’’ was the answer. ‘‘In the first place, if you please, ac- cording to this story, if I gave this man a_ hundred dollars, why did _ he tell about it afterward ?”” ‘*His conscience troubled hon cried: the old squire excitedly. ‘‘As yours would have if you had any. He knew that he had done wrong, robbed my son, and he And I was wild, sir, wild with anger. Ihave brought this man -onall the way from Colorado, and I propose to see my son into his rights, if I die for Tees “Ohl said Mark. So you want | But tell me how, if I had the papers, did Benny beat me so badly, anyhow ?”’ ‘My son always was brighter than you,’ sneered the ‘old man. ‘*And all the examinations wetren’t from printed papers,’’ chimed in Benny’s — crowing voice. ‘‘ There was spelling, and reading and writing—that was where I ~ beat you.”’ ci 6ee, atesponded Mark tri 3. clever scheme, And I'in told I passed here because I cheated; how came you to fale : ‘My son was sick- at the time,’ cried edilire Bartlett, “and. I can. prave sat LOO. : Mark smiled incredulously at that; Benny Bartlett nodded his head in support of his father’s assertion. S : ‘Well?’ inquired the squire. ‘‘Is there anything more you want to know ?”’ No,” said Mark. “Nothing”! ‘Satisfied now, are ye?’ sneered the other; and then he turned to Colonel. (T think: that is all, sir?” he ‘“What more do you want ?”? ae The colonel was gazing into space with — He did not know what — are er A ee EON ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. . - spirators; and yet the handsome, sturdy lad who had done so much to win his approval, surely, he did not look like a_ thief! ‘(Mr. Mallory,’’ he inquired at last. ‘What have you to say to this?” ‘‘Nothing,’’ responded Mark. ‘‘Noth- ing, except to denounce it as an absolute and unmitigated lie from beginning to. end: ‘But what proof can you bring ?”’ ‘‘None whatever, except my word.”’ After that there was no more said for. some minutes. The silence was broken by the superintendent’s rising. ‘Mr. Mallory,’’ he said, ‘‘you may go now. I must ae this matter over. And Mark went out of the door, his brain fairly reeling. He was lost! lost! West Point, his aim in life, his one and only hope, was going! He was to be dis- missed in disgrace, sent home branded as a ctinfinal! Andall for a lie! An in- famous lie! A few minutes later Benny and the printer’s devil, his accomplice, came out of that same door. But it was with a far different look. Benny was chuckling with triumph. 22: “it worked!’ he cried, “it ~worked to perfection! man hasn’t caught on!”’ *' By heaven, Even the old ‘‘Squire Bartlett’s as blind as Mallory,’” laughed the other. ~ ‘‘And Mallory’ll be out in a week. Remember, you owe me that hundred to-day.” CHAPTER III. IN WHICH TEXAS TURNS HIGHWAYMAN. _ There were six terrified plebes up at Camp McPherson, when Mark Mallory, their friend and leader, rushed in, pale and breathless, to tel] them the reason for his summons to headquarters. The Seven Devils had not had such a shock since they organized to resist the yearlings. ‘Benny Bartlett!” cried Texas, spring- ing up in rage. durnation little rascal I licked the day he _ got sassy during exams ?”? That’s-he;’? said. Mark “and he’ s come back to get | his revenge. a Zoe “And you don’t mean,” cried the tuin they felt was theirs. ‘‘Do you mean that seven, almost in one breath, “that Cole = onel Harvey believes it ?”’ ‘Why shouldn’t he ?’’ responded ‘ despairingly. Ofc. story when it is told, and I can’t dis- prove it,”’ s ‘‘But I thought you said,’’ cried Texas, ‘‘that you saw Benny himself cheating, : or tryin’ to, at~the examinations right fyar.”’ : “S01. did,'’ said the eter eae t cannot prove that. I know lots of things about him, but I can’t prove one of them. They’ve simply got me and that’s all there is of it. ‘There are three of them, and it’s almost impossible to make the superintetident think they’re lying. Think of a rich old man like the squire = doing a trick like that!” tePethaps He ain tf, ” suggested Texas, — shrewdly. ‘Perhaps not, ”’ admitted Mark. ‘‘Ben- ny would not hese tp lie to his own father. Butall the same I have no proof. And what in Heaven’s name ain I todo?”’ Mark sat down upon the locker in_ his tent and buried his face in his hands. His wretchedness is left to the imagina- tion. The whole thing had come so sud- denly, so unexpectedly, right in the midst And it was so horrible! of his triumph! The Seven Devils could think of no word of comfort;-for they were as cast down, as thunderstruck, as he. Their re- gard for Mark was deep and true, and his stood about the tent in characteristic atti- tudes, and with dejection written upon every line of their countenances. First to move was the wild Texas, ever impulsive and excitable. And ‘Texas leaped to his feet, with a muttered ““durnation.?’ “Tm a-goin’? to prove them air fellers are lyin’, by thunder, ef I have to resign ~ to do it!”’ By the time that brief fecoluvee was finished Texas was out of the tent and gone. The Seven Devils, or what re- mained of them, glanced up as he left, “I cannot see any way out — The whole thing’s a dirty le from — beginning to end, but it makes a straight They sat or SSS and then once more resumed their jee ee jected and bewildered discussion. “I can see no way out of it. No way! a 2 : 7 Mark, “Ta am oS ee > Tons. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. And the others could see no other way. to look at it. Meantime we must follow ‘Texas. Texas was rather more bizarre and un- conventional, more daring than his com- panions from the ‘‘effete East,’’ and his detective efforts were apt to be more inter- esting for that reason. He paced up and down the company street, hearing and seeing no one, thinking, thinking for all he was worth. ~ Proof! Proof!’’ he kept muttering to himself over and over again. ‘‘Proof! Procol). _ Perhaps it was ten minutes before he ‘did anything else. Texas was like a fisherman waiting for a bite during that time. He was waiting for an inspiration. And then suddenly the inspiration came. He stopped short in his tracks, opened his eyes wide and staring, and his mouth also; his fingers began to twitch with a sudden wave of excitement; his face = flushed and he erred: pedi ifec can ' “CADET MALLORY,’’ COLONEL HARVEY SAID, ‘‘I WISH YOU TO OBSERVE THIS MAN”? (page 916). Don’t you know what a highwayman is? He’s a man what robs folks at night.”’ Fischer gasped and looked duimb- founded. The day that Texas had gone on his ‘‘spree’’ and tried to wreck West Point he had been reported by the surgeon on the sick list for ‘‘temporary mental aberration due to the heat.’ ‘This is an awfully hot day,’ thought. Fischer. ‘I hope to gracious “he hasn’t got any guns!”’ Texas waited a moment longer, and d It’s a slim chance, slim as thunder, but if it’ll clear Mark Mallory Dll try it if it costs me tiny chevrons!”’ At which Texas gave vent to a whoop that-woke the echoes of the Highlands. CHAPTER 1V- TWO MIDNIGHT PROWLERS, AND THEIR WORK. ~ Camp McPherson is as silent as a gravevard at night. Ten o’clock ‘is the ARMY AN D NAVY WEEKLY. hour a “taps, ” and after that all cadets | are in bed, with a penalty of court-martial for doing otherwise. ing to break the stillness but the call of ‘the hour or the steady tramp of the ghostly white sentries as they pace the bounds of the camp through the weary watches. On the night of the day we are writing about, there was somethfng unusual hap- pening. It was neither a sentry nor an officer, this stealthy figure that stole out of a tent in the street of Company A. He waited cautiously until the sentry behind ee tent had passed on to the other end, and thén with the slyness of an Indian he crept down the path. And when he dis- “appeared again, it was the big tent of the © first captain that swallowed him up. Fischer was expecting that visit. He was up and dressing, and ready fo the _ other. ‘There are the clothes, Mr. Powers,”’ he whispered. ‘Leave your uniform here and slip into them quickly.”’ - - The captain’s voice was trembling with excitetnent, and some little nervousness, too. This was a desperate errand for him. It might cost him his chevrons, if not worse; for he had desperate deeds to do that night. ‘““Have you vot the guns?’’ he whis- - pered. By way of answer Texas slipped two shining revolvers into the other’s hands. - Fischer gripped the cold steel for a mo- ment to steady his nerves, and then thrust the weapons into the pocket of the rough coat he wore. ‘‘Come on,’’ he said. ‘‘I’m ready.” He stepped out of the tent, Texas close at his heels. The two crept around the side, then crouched and waited. Suddenly Fischer put his fingers to his lips and gave a low whistle. The effect was in- _stantaneous. Sentries Number Three and ‘Four promptly faced about and marched off the other way. It was contrary to orders for sentries to face in opposite - directions at the same time. But it was handy, for it kept them from SeClHo | any one cross their. beats.’ Texas and mpanion had sprung up and dashed © sf e path and disappeared over — the d Fort SS. And there is noth- _ tighter as they went. % “That was neatly done, Texas. ‘We're safe now.” — . “It would be a bad state of affairs, in- deed,” laughed the other, if a first cap-_ tain couldn’t ‘fix’ two sentries of hisown class. We re all right if we don’t make any noise. A person who glanced at the two woud not have taken them for cadets. They were clad in old dilapidated clothing, with collars turned up to increase the effect. Tocomplete this disguise, they » ch uckled ~ took two black handkerchiefs from their pockets, and in afew minutes more were as desperate looking burglars as ever - roamed the night. ‘*Burglary’s not much worse than con- Spiracy, anyway,’’ muttered Fischer, as he hurried plone: 1s. * ‘“ Twelve o’clock and all’s we-ell!”’ rang the voice of the sentry from camp just then—an answer to the question. And the two villainous looking men crept on in silence, gripping their weapons the= The hotel lies very near the camp; i was only a short walk for the two, even creeping and dodging .ag they were, be- fore they were safely hidden close to the porch of the building. The house is in Colonial style, with big, high piliars, painted white. It was a difficult climb, but the two lost not one moment in hesi- tation. They evidently knew just why - tney came, and had planned their task beforehand. Texas sprang up on the shoulders of the other, and a short while later was lying breathless upon the tin roof of the piazza. Fischer had dodged back into the shadow to. wait. ‘The other lay where he was for a short while, to glance about him and recover his breath; then he rolled over and crept softly and silently along until he reached one of the windows. Texas had found out which one before- hand; he could afford to waste no time now, for this was a state’s prison offence a he was at. ae = _ He raised himself and fioneed over the _ sill of the open window; he glanced — hastily about the room inside. and then | dropped down pea and crept to the a . of ae rook. ‘*T wonder what time it. 7 Leas, 2 “ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ‘They aren’t there,’? he whispered. (Goh 1? 6“Not there!’ echoed the other. they eo come home yet. down.’ Texas slid dawn that pillar with alac- rity that would have scared acat. And - the two were hiding in the bushes a mo- ment or two later. ‘(Gee whiz!’’? muttered Fischer. think of the risks we took. have come in on us.’’ “Where can they be?’’ whispered Texas, anxiously. ‘‘I hadn’t any idea they wouldn’t be in by twelve.’’ ‘‘There’s nothing they can be doing around here,’’ said Fischer. ‘‘I don’t know——”’ ‘Took a here!’’ muttered Texas, ex- citedly, as a sudden idea occurred to him. _ “T saw ’em a- ee dewn to Highland Falls this evenin’, an’——” - Fischer sriphed him by the arm. ‘“Tove,’? he cried. ‘‘We’ll go down and lay cer 2em. it’s a faint chance, but if we catch ’em there it’ll be a thousand times less dangerous for us. miss them Hurry, It was a dangerous business, that get- ting down to Highland Falls. There were the camp sentries and the sentries of the regular army, besides, patrolling most of the paths. And any of them would have stopped those two rough looking men if they had seen them skulking about the post. But Fischer had been there three years, and he knew inost of the ‘‘ropes.”’ He dodged from building to building, always keeping the road in view so as to see their victims if they passed—and finally came out upon the read just at the beginning of cadet limits. Here they hid in a thick clump of bushes and lay down Then Drop ** Just - They might we can came back. Let’s to wait amid the silence of that dark, deserted spot. _ *T wonder if they’ll come,”’ iced em by the rieck. ‘Ihe raseals——_— The words were choked in their utter- - ance; for the officer suddenly nudged his companion and pointed down the road. “T ook! » That was all he said. ‘Texas faved and glanced as he directed. nee And if we’ - feeble hilarity goes. ‘*Durnation, I wish I had one of - There were two figures, clearly pated: in the moon- light, walking slowly up the road. ‘‘It’s thev,’’ whispered Fischer. “Shall we try 1 it?? And Texas gripped the two revolvers in his pocket and muttered, ‘‘Yes, we shall!’ The two came nearer and nearer. Out of the black shadows where they lay the cadets stared hard, watching them anx- iously, waiting, panting with impatience - and excitement. The strangers were slightly built, both of them, and young; Texas recognized one of them plainly. It was Benny Bartlett; that the other was the printer’s boy, he took for granted. Then suddenly he noticed one of them stagger. SEL Hak “Solves: 1t, 7 whiapercd Fischer. ‘They ve been down to Cranston’ 8 get- ting diruink. The beasts!” That last word cut Texas like a knife; he had been that way-not a week ago himself. Texas was slowly learning the civilized view of drunkenness. He forgot that in a few moments more, however. ‘There was excitement, plenty of it, to fill his mind. The pair drew nearer still in the bright moonlight, and the time for their desperate deed was almost upon the cadets. ‘‘Ror Heaven’s sake don’t let them get away,’’ whispered Fischer. ‘‘If they cry out, make a break for camp, and Ill fix it. y That word was the last to be spekeas they lay in silence after that, listening to the others. Benny Bartlett, it appeared, was the more hilarious of the two, as such The other was try- ing hard to keep him quiet. The bushes that hid the cadets were right beside the road; and as Benny drew near they made out that he was trying to sing. ‘We won’t go home till morning; we won’t go——”’ ‘*Shut up, you fool!’ the other mut- tered, shaking him by no meens. gently. “You'll wake the old man, and——”’ _ The two watchers rose upon their knees. T'wo revolvers clicked gently, which made the printer’s boy start in alarm, and then came a subdued ‘‘Now!”’ - Before the vctims could move or utter a sound two stalwart, roughly dressed, _ me black-masked figures sprang out into the 3 a: DEE ee aes - ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. road. And the half drunken pair found themselves gazing into the muzzles of two _ glistening revolvers. “Hold up your hands!”’ dsatt. dead with «terror the . printer obeyed; the other sunk in a heap to the ground, his teeth fairly chattering. “Not a-sound!”’ order, obeyed. equally well; the robbers got quickly to work, and then It was all done so expeditiously that. the victiins scarcely realized it.. One of the men covered the two with his weap- ous, and the other went swiftly through _the pockets of both. He did not seem to care for watches or - money. It was papers he looked for, and he glanced at what he found. with fever- ish ‘impatience. He had a match box in “his hand, and he turned away from the party as he struck a light and read one after the other, tossing them aside with an angry exclamation. He searched the “printer first and seemed to find nothing. Then he went for Benny, tumbling him about on the ground and not forgetting to administer sundry vigorous kicks. He had almost searched Benny, too, ~ without success, when suddenly he gave an exclamation of joy, an exclamation which almost caused the other to drop his revolvers. The searcher had put his hand into. a small, out-of-the-way pocket, and ‘found a bit of carefully folded paper. MTnisll doit!’ he ee ‘*Come on. 3: Texas’ heart began to throb with joy (‘Texas was the one with the gun.) =A¥ictory:! Victory !’’ “he muttered. **Durnation !”’ Ready to shout with excitement at his success he started to follow: the other, who was already making for the dense woods at the side of the road. He backed away slowly, still facing the two horrified lads, still leveling his weapons at them. = Not a sound! mr he muttered gruffly. “Remember !?’ He reached the edge of the shadow in safety, and then suddenly a noise caught _ his sharp ear. . ak from up the road. It was the sound of a horse’s hoofs, accompanied by a _ jingling of sword and spur. Texas glanced around quickly; it was a horseman trot- Pee ae ead) an _ officer ae the was the next gruff ~ It was not from the two, _ tent. tent mates awake and sitting up, for what me cavalry post! And in an instant more Texas had sprung into the woods and was dashing away with all his speed. ‘*Run, run!’ he whispered to the cadet just in front. ‘‘Somebody’s coming.’? — Benny Bartlett had not nerve to give an alarm; but the printer’s boy had. The fleeing pair heard his voice shouting: UHelp! help! Murder!” And an instant later came a clatter and ~ thunder of hoofs as the soldier dashed up ‘*What’s the matter ?’’ he cried. ‘*Robbers!’’ shrieked the two. ‘‘We’ve been held up! 7 ran in there! Help! Help}? The rescuer wheeled his horse sharply about; he whipped his sword from its scabbard and plunged furiously into the woods. ‘The two heard his horse dashing up, and they knew their danger was - great indeed. Texas was flying on ahead, running for his life; but Fischer, who was a good deal the cooler of the two in the emer- gency, seized him by the arm and _ forced him into a clump of bushes on one side. Lie there!’ he cried. “Ssh. Nota sound !”’ ‘ The wisdom of the ruse was apparent. Crashing footsteps gave the officer some- thing to foliow; without it he might not find them in the black woods. They heard his horse thrashing about in the under- brush; the man was evidently afraid of nothing even’ in the darkness, for he plunged through it furiously, riding back and forth and beating up the btishes, Once he passed -so near to them that Texas heard the sword swish and felt for his revolvers instinctively. But that was the best the man could do, and finally he gave it up in disgust and rode out to the road again. Then the two ionwae men rose and stole softly away in the darkness, con- gratulating themselves upon that narrow escape and still more upon their success. When they reached the camp, which they did in a great hurry, for they knew the officer would alarm the post, they passed the sentry in the same way, and separated, Texas hutrying into his own - To his amazement he found his reason he had no idea. ~ : ‘What's a Matter?’ he cried anx- - ARMY AND iously, for he saw at once that something horrible had happened. ‘Matter enough!’ cried Mark in just as much anxiety. ‘‘It’s not enough for me to get disinissed, but you have to go to ee and get yourself in the | same scrape.’ ‘(T dismissed !’’ echoed Texas, in amaze- “nent, ‘How?’ “Vour absence has been uoticed,”’ groaned Mark. ‘‘Lieutenant Allen has ordered an inspection of the tent every half-hour until you return. here twice now, and you’re a goner. And what makes it a thousand times worse, | know it’s on account of me. ~You’ve been doing something to. clear ic, | All this was said in about as lugubrious atone as one could well imagine. But as for Texas, he merely chuckled as if he didn’t care in thé least. ea reckon it]] be-all: right,’ he drawled, as he began to shed his ‘‘cits’’ clothing. ‘‘Jes’ you fellers go to bed an’ be good. I reckon it’ll all come out all right. Good-night.”’ They’ve been ‘Well, sir, l’ve come to ask what you propose to do about it.”’ It was the pompous old squire, and he stood once more._in the superintendent’s office, impatience written in every line of his face. ‘' Ves, sit,’’ he continued, like to know your decision.” “But, my déar sir,” exclaimed Colonel _. Harvey, ‘‘I have not made up my mind entirely. It is only yesterday you stated - your case: What is the hurry?’’ | S “Hurry, sir?’ returned the squire, ‘I -am in a hurry for my rights. I mean that my son shail have as pecete he has earned.”’ “Where is your son?” inguired the other, after a ‘momient’s ote ft ‘‘T should ‘NAVY WEEKLY. ‘(He is up at the hotel,’’ answered the squire (Why? — “T should like to see him for just a moment. I have one question to ask him, if you please. Pl send an orderly for” him.”? ae s The old man bowed stiffly; he sat up_ very straight in his chair and waited with _ dignity until his young hopeful appeared, wondering meanwhile what more the ob-— durate officer could want. Master Benjamin entered the room ob- viously pale and flushed. He did not feel very well as the result of his last night’s — ““manliness, ”’ and he robbers and stolen papers besides. ad dit visions of — He bowed to his father and the grave super- intendent. ‘(Take a'seat,’’ said the latter, not keep you long. paper. writing. Please write these words as I dictate then.’ Benny, puzzled and alarined, prepared to obey; he saw that the army officer was watching him narrowly, which did not increase his ease of manner. = Wrte,” said. Colene! Harvey, es promise—to—pay—to—Nick— © What’s the matter ?”’ Benny had begun to write promptly. — At the sixth word he had turned pale as — death, and his hand was trembling. ‘‘What’s the inatter?’’ thundered the “Why don’t you write?” ; Pm | elspa. Take this pen and Iam anxious to see your hand- colonel again. _ ‘*T-_I—_—”” stammered Benny. not very well.’’ ol spould say net? other, angrily. He took hand. - ‘Is that your son’s handwriting?’ he demanded, turning to the squire. 7 Old Mr. Bartlett glanced at it quickly, a look of nee upon his face. NG, he said, “94 jens. Benny, why — don’t you write in your usual way? Why ~ ' Let tte see that paper’ it from the trembling lad’s don’ t pes do as s the ee tells ‘you? | responded the : ae ~ at last. £ | ARMY AND } ae what's a meaning of this, any- Sea? Benny took the pen again, | this time | weakly. 171] write it, he said. . ‘*Here.’ Colonel Harvey dictated it again re- lentlessly. ‘1E-— promise— to —pay— to — Nick— - Flynn—one— hundred—dollars—when—. M.—M.—is—fired. Benjamin Bartlett. Received — payment — July—13. Nick Flynn.’ The officer took the result, laid it on his desk and took another from his pocket to compare, : ‘That settles it,’? said he, looking up Ah bepicacy. 2 ‘What does this mean, sir ?’’ demanded the angry old squire, who had been wax- ~-~jng more and more impatient under the other, just as warmly. _. two papers, sir! and I know it.” furious squire. ‘cadets you have! ordeal]. ‘‘Why should my son be insulted like a common criminal? Why——” “Because he is one,”? responded the ‘‘Look at those Your son wrote both, ‘Where did you get that other?’ ‘“The story is briefly told,’’ said Colonel Harvey. ‘‘TI'wo cadets of my Academy turned highwaymen yesterday and held up your son at the point of a revolver. I presume he has told you.”’ “So that’s who it was!’ eried the **So that’s the kind of I shall have them both = re qail’ ‘for several reasons, not propose to tell you. _ you do, your son is guilty of conspiracy, “You will not,” laughed the other, In the first place, you do not know who they are, and I do In the second, if pe i NAVY WEEKLY. and I shall see him punished for that.” ‘This is preposterous!’ exclaimed Squire Bartlett. ‘‘That paper ais ab- solutely nothing——”’ ‘(His manner when I asked him Fe write it, and his attempt to disguise his hand, prove a good deal to ine. It proves to me, sir, that he is lying, and that you are a very foolish and indulgent father to — believe him as you do. He has lied to me and to you, and he lies still when he denies it. Look at him cower now, sir! I knew that this whole thing was an out- rageous plot the very moment the cadets showed me that paper this morning. One of them is one of my most trusted officers, - And what is and I believe his account. more——’”? Here the colonel stopped and glared at Benny. “(Tl say this for the benefit of your son, who evidently hates Mark Mallory. I be- lieved and was glad to believe, that Mal- -lory, who is the finest lad I had seen for many a day, is as honest as he is brave. And I shall take great pleasure in telling - him so, and in apologizing for my doubts. And in conclusion——”’ Colonel Harvey rose to his feet and bowed. **} bid you a good-day, Squire Bartlett. Cadet Mallory will not be expelled from this Academy, if I can help it.” And Behny and the squire left West Point that morning, which was the — of ‘‘Mark Mallory’s peril.’ [THE END. | Lieutenant Frederick Garrison’s next novelette will be entitled, ‘‘Mark Mal- ~ lory’s Defiance; or, sa a Hundted | Toes? mama A PRACTICE E CRUISE INCIDENT. By Bnsign Ciarke Fitch, U. Ss. N.- CHAPTER 1. A MAN-O’-WAR DRILL AT SEA. A dark night. Slipping along under a steady press of canvas with her decks heeling gently to the force of the breeze was a stately wooden frigate, trim and taught aloft and alow. The shadowy outlines of hull and rig- ging were almost invisible in the deep blackness. Mere smudges indicated the broad expanse of sails, but gleaming brightly starboard and port were the green and red sailing lights, indicating to those chancing to see, that her crew was alert and everything ship-shape as it should be. She was not a steamer. That fact was made manifest by the absence of the masthead light. And neither was she of modern build. Her lines were graceful, and her stately bowsprit sloped out from a curving bow with true indication of that poetry of shape, alas, lost in these modern days of iron and steel. - A bell sounds forward, its mellow tones taken up and cast about in the grasp of the breeze. . -It strikes four times—two by two. T'wo o’clock in the morning. ‘The last note had not died away ere a shrill voice came from the darkness of the forecastle head: “Star-r-board cathead\! A softer treble Tolloses| oe Bright light!” S!Port cathead! Bright light!” Then others break into the stillness of the night, chanting the verbal proof of their faithful watch; then all is quiet aga = The frigate pursues her way through the ever restless seas. A soft, musical murmur comes from the waves as they slip — past the stout hull. Forward a white foam curls and breaks against the cutwater. Overhead is a different song.. It is the mournful dreel of the overstrained block —the complaining: flip-flap of the leeches, and a groaning of spar against spar. These noises do not disturb the watch- ers on deck. It.is a chorus long familiar to them. Indeed, tosome it had taken the place, almost, of a mother’s lullaby. These watchers on deck were not numerous to the eye. ‘There were not more than five or six visible—the officer of the deck walking his lonely vigil, the two men at the old-fashioned, double steering wheel, the quartermaster with his ever present telescope, the lookouts at their different posts—those were all ap- parent. But lying about in various attitudes -and all sleeping as soundly as the sailor sleeps when rocked in the cradle of- the deep, were fully two-score others. - They were of the watch on deck, ready for a call to reef, furl or set sail, or ttim = yards, or any of the many duties de- manded of them. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. the groups and hurries to the ‘space in His sword flashes as The old ship, for she was old, edged through the blackness with her prow ever turned eastward. The minutes dragged slowly. It was one night of many since the shores of America had faded astern. It was the eatly hours when time hangs heavy. Back and forth marched the officer in charge. _He had paced the stretch be- tween rail and rail of the slender bridge _full fifty times. He was thinking long- ingly of the approaching hour when his relief would report, and he would be free to forget the monotony of ship life in the ‘seclusion of sleep. suddenly, as he neared the ladder lead- ing to the quarter deck, he almost collided with a dark figure. ‘There was a brief interchance of words, then the lieutenant leaned over the rail- ing and called softly: _ ‘“Messenger boy !”? ay, By, sir.” A lad in a sailor’s uniform emerged from the gloom, and knuckled his fore- head with one hand. The lieutenant gave him a whispered order, and the messenger hastily de- scended the ladder and disappeared for- ward.* A few moments later the oppres- sive stillness of the night gave way with startling abruptness to a most prodigious clatter. ‘‘R-r-rat--a-tat! R-r-rat-a-tat ! The sharp roll of the drum awoke the echoes of the old frigate, sending an in- fernal .din of noise through decks and rigging and hull. It was caught up and hurled about from sail to sail; it burst upon the ears of the watch below, send- ing men from their hammocks in alarm. And it changed the scene from one of peaceful quiet into a pandemonium of hutrying figures and excited voices. ‘‘Silence fore-and-aft!’ came the stern command from the bridge. ‘There were three figures there now. And one was the captain. : The noise ceased as if ee magic. Several: lights flashed fore-and-aft, revealed in the faint light were a number of grim black cannon, each surrounded by motionless sailors, every group aes as rigid as the iron itself. An officer, half clad, but girdled with. belt and honk ‘scabbard, es one of front of the bridge. he salutes. ‘First division ready, sir.’? The words came crisp and sharp. He had scarcely finished when another officer hastens up and makes a similar report, then another and another. some of these were youthful, by their dress evidently naval cadets. A close ob- server would have seen that on the port side all the guns were manned by cadets, some young, and otners almost out of their teens. There were cadets here and cadets there. They outnumbered the older men of the crew two to one, and their presence indicated that this old-time wooden frigate out here om the vasty deep with this strange scene being enacted on her deck was a practice-ship of some naval acad- emy. And such she was in truth. Aft under the break of the deck was a line of letters in brass. They read: U. S..S. Monongahela. She had sailed from Annapolis full two weeks before with the first, third and fourth classes of the United States Naval Academy on board, and she was bound on the annual practice cruise at sea. This scene just described, which to an © inexperienced eye would have seemed ~ strange and wat-like, was a drill pure and simple. It was general quarters—a ceremony where the ship is ready to fight, when the crew is ready to work the guns, and battle to the death with the foes 6f their coun- try. It was a night, alarm, too, entirely unexpected by the crew, and therefore a fine practical test of the resources of the frigate in moments of Day peril and attack. The captain smiled. grimly as he glanced at his watch by the light of a hand lantern. Turning to the first lien- tenant he said in a, low voice: “Fair time, pretty fair. for action in seven minutes. better, though,’’ was the reply. the officer added questioningly: ‘Shall I order retreat from quai six?) Captain Brooks gave a quick glance Ship ready Could be Then _ ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ’ into the darkness enshrouding the frigate, >and replied: ‘‘No. It’s a good night for further drill. We’ll try ‘abandon ship.’ ”? ‘‘Man the boats only, sir??? ‘‘No; lower them. - The sea is rather quiet. It might be a good idea to send the boats out a half-mile, It will give the cadets a taste of actual experience.’’ Lieutenant Watson, the executive offi- cer of the Monongahela, was too well- trained to offer an objection, or even ad- vice, but he glanced askance at the black wall surrounding them, as he called out: **Bugler, sound abandon ship.”’ There was a quick, lively blast of a bugle, then the men and cadets melted away from their stations and swarmed about the boats secured in the davits. The frigate was hove to, and when her way was checked the small boats were lowered and brought alongside the sea gangway. It was ticklish ork descending into the frail crafts as they pitched and “rolled under the lee of the towering hull, but _ the various crews were embarked without mishap. ‘*Pull away to sea, and await signal to return,’’ bawled the executive officer from the bridge. “Ay, ay, sir,’? came. faintly through the darkness. ‘‘Officers of boats will examine stores and equipments,’’ was the next order. “*Also ascertain proficiency of crews.’? Again came the obedient replies, then _ the captain, first lieutenant and the men ' kept on board as a precaution, settled down to wait. ‘(We will give them ten minutes,’’ said the former, presently. ‘‘They can’t pull far in that time. Nothing like actual ex- perience to——”’ He paused abruptly and glanced out to windward. The shock was the icy blast. It sent the light crafts rolling, and called forth muttered exclamations of consternation from those who were experienced in the treachery of old ocean. Then came the tecall. A cluster of lanterns swung aloft bidding the boats return. They had barely started on the back track when a deep, sullen boom ., ,echoed across the water. “> By George! it’s time,’’ muttered the lieutenant in charge of the sailing launch. ‘'The old man sees his mistake and he’s hurrying us up.’’ He added aloud: “Pill away, men., Bend toit> That’s the reeall gun.”’ ‘*We know that all right,’ said Clif to his seat-mate. ‘It’s the fecal gun, and it is not a minute too soon.”’ ‘Twelve oars dipped and rose in steady cadence, the dripping blades flashing with phosphorescent fire. ‘Twelve sturdy backs were bent and twelve pairs of arms labored lustily, sending the launch from wave crest to wave crest like a thing of life. Twinkling here and there were the lanterns of other boats, but the launch’s light had blown out. The blackness of the night was appall- ing. It rested upon the water like a thick blanket. The men in the boats could hardly see the backs of those in front of AiMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. them. ‘Ihe coxswains faced an im pene- trable wall. _, ‘‘Pull away,’’ again called out the lieu- tenant of the launch. ‘‘See if you can’t get more speed out of her, boys.’ He spoke coaxingly, trying to hide even from himself his intense anxiety. His words. were not needed... The launch’s crew understood the peril as well ashe. One old sailor exclaimed to his mates: ‘It’s the ship in five minutes or Davy Jones’ locker forever, boys. There'll be a living gale down on usin a jiffy. If ye love life break your backs.”” A fresh spurt—made against an increas- ing sea—followed this adinonition. One of the oars cracked ominously and it was speedily cast aside. There were spare ones, and the progress of the boat suffered little. Clif, Joy and Protley labored like heroes. They were inexperienced in the ways of the weather, but they realized that their position was one of great danger. All three were cool, however. ‘It make good incident for book I am going to write on navy,’’ said the Japan- ese, youth, 1 like this. Tt pleaty fan. | ‘You. would laugh in- a cyclone or — dance in a burning crater,’’? remarked Joy, with a grim chuckle. ‘‘If all Japs are as brave as——”? ‘“Back oars,# suddenly interrupted the lieutenant. ‘‘Back for your——”’ Crash! High above the whistling of the wind ~ caine the grinding of shattered timbers and the startled cries of a score of excited men, Phen came a series of quicn” splashes, more shouts, and finally one long appealing cry for help. CHAPTER EM. FRIENDS IN ADVERSITY. During hus brief career as a cadet at the United States Naval Academy, Clif Fara- day had not been placed in many very startling and dangerous situations, but he was a youth of natural coolness of chav- acter, and one quick to act in cases of emergency. In the present situation all ue i was needed. ae eg. “once instinctively struck out. In general direction, but with a natural de- ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. When the sudden and_ entirely unex- pected crash came, Clif and the other members of the crew were bending all their energies toward forcing the launch back to the practice ship. With head bent low and arms tugging at the oar he worked away, knowing full well that their very lives depended upon their reaching the Monongahela before the sudden gale inceased. Clif heard Joy and Trolley talking, then came the lieutenant’s fierce interrup- tion, and then chaos seemed to come, and ovetwhelin boat and crew in one mighty crash. The lieutenant’s warning cry came too late for preparation. -Clif felt himself thrown headlong from his seat upon the man in front. There was a wild scramble, then the waters of the ocean rolled up and engulfed all. When Clif regained the surface he at no sire to keep afloat. He heard cries and oaths about him, and a splashing and floundering as if a score of men were making a desperate fight for their lives. And mixed in with the hubbub was the keen whistling of .the growing gale. Suddenly the lad came in contact with some yielding body. He heard a gasp and a gurgle, then two arms were thrown about his neck and down went his head beneath the surface. It is not in the duty of man to drown Witnout making an. effort for ~life. Neither should one go down at the fran- tic assault of another until all means of aiding both have been exhausted. Clif instantly realized that. he was in the clutches of one whom peril had rendered frantic. He also knew that he must release himself right speedily if he expected to save himself. Calling all his power into play, he threw off the strangling arms, at the same time gasping hoarsely: ‘Strike out, mans Do something for yourself.’? He received no answer. The fellow faded away in the blackness, leaving Clif to swim unencumbered. Luckily the lad was at home in the water, else he would “Cli fters, 931 have found sore trouble in keeping above the buffeting waves. He struggled on, striving his best to see ought of hope in the prospect. The wind swept the crests of the seas into a thousand stinging lances. ‘he roar of the increasing storm sounded like a mock- ing chorus of demons. Occasional cries for help in God Almighty’s name echoed above the brawling of the eleinents. Suddenly the lights on the practice- ship, which Clif had kept before his eyes as well as he could, began to grow dim. ‘‘Surely they will not leave us to perish miserably,’’ groaned the lad. ‘‘ They will stand by until some of the boats report.’ Wild with fear he struck out savagely, and in the act drove plump against some hard object. The sudden shock sent him under the surface ounce more... When he enterced gasping and half-stunned, he heard the ~ sound of a familiar voice nearby in the darkness. “Come-up. higher, Trolley, the’ beat can stand it. That’s it; give me your hand, Steady, steady, an-nt”’ ‘It’s’ Joy, and he has tound help,’ hopefully muttered Clif. He swain in the direction whence the words had come, and speedily reached what proved to be the launch, floating capsized at the mercy of the waves. Upon the upturned bottom were two. dark smudges just visible agamst the black background of the night. Grasping the end of the keel Clif drew himself up and sat panting upon the bottom planks. ‘‘Who is that ?’’ called out Joy. ‘itis whats left of ime,’? replied Car “Hurtay, it’s. Faraday, sNouted the Japanese youth. ‘‘Hurray, Clif, me glad you saved. Shake.”? ‘“’This is a dreadful business,’’ exclaimed Faraday, as he wrung the protiered hand. ‘‘Seen anything of the other fellows??? ‘Not a sign,’’ replied Joy. . ‘‘We have heard lots of cries, but we are the only ones who have reached this launch.”’ ‘“What was the trouble? A collision?’ _ “Yes. I think we ran into one of the Whew! how this blained thing does roll.’ It required all the efforts of the three to. SA 932 : retain their position upon the tossing launch. ‘The sweep of the waves sent a perfect deluge of water over them at times, and they were compelied to cling with tooth and nail. The force of the wind continued un- abated, but it was evident from the sud- denness of it’s coming and its very fierce- ness that it would not last. The lights of the Monongahela were no longer visible. Immediately after gain- ing the comparative safety of the cap- sized launch, Clif eagerly scanned the horizon. ‘‘Iam afraid she has been driven off before the gale, fellows,’’ he said, anx- iously. “It certainly looks that way,’’ agreed Joy. ‘‘I guess we can say good-by to the old Monongahela. “It say good-by to us,’ chimed in Trolley. ‘‘It go away; we uo want to.” He spoke lightly, but he fully under- stood the extreme gravity of the situa- tion. All three realized that their lives were in deadly peril. With only the frail planks of an over- turned boat between them and the depths of the angry sea, it was plainly evident that little hope remained. And what of the others who had left the practice-ship? Clif shuddered and his eves moistened as he recalled the names of his shipmates. Some there were who had not been friendly to him. Many had sworn undy- ing vengeance because he had led the plebes on more than one successful resist- ance to the hazing of the upper classes. In that very launch a cadet named Judson Greene, his most bitter foe, had pulled an oat. All animosity was forgotten now, how- ever;in the presence of such an awful tragedy only heartfelt sympathy and re- gtet could live. Haven’t you seen anything of the others?’’ he asked again. ‘"Nary sign,’’ replied Joy gloomily. **T guess they gone down,’’? murmured Trolley. ‘‘Poor boys. Me very sorry.”? A realization of their own situation was. suddenly brought home to them. A curl- ing wave, higher than the rest, abruptly broke over the launch with such force ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. that all three lads were hurled bodily from the keel. Clif was thrown a dozen feet away from the boat. and when he regained the sutface after the violent plunge he found himself buffeted about in a smother of foam. He struck out blindly, and at the same time called lustily for his companions. An answering cry came at once. ‘“Clify Clif; where are you ?”? Guided by the voice, he reached the boat once more, but only after a most desperate struggle. He felt himself clutched by the collar and dragged against the gunwale. Then he saw to his infinite surprise that the sailing launch had righted. CHAPTER TV. NANNV’S APPRAT. ak “All present and accounted for, and better off than before.”? These cheery words came from Clif as . he scrambledinto the boat and saw that both Joy and Trolley were there. ‘Yes, but if we want to continue to be present we’d better commence to bail,’? replied the former. Trolley felt about under the submerged seats and brought up a bailer which had been wedged in one corner. With this he set industriously to work. Clif and Joy did what they could to help, and before long the water in the launch was materially decreased. The boys labored with lighter hearts. Hope was not so far distant after all. In this world many things are measured by circumstances. ‘To the drowning man a straw is worth clutching for. After ten minutes of incessant labor Clif straightened up and announced what was patent to his companions. ‘Only a foot of water left, fellows. W can stand that for.a time.’ ‘‘If we only had oars-or something to keep the blessed craft before the wind we’d stand a show of living until morn- ing,’’ said Joy. ‘We look for things,’’? announced the Japanese youth, suiting the action to the. words. 5 Clif continued bailing as a heavy wave ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. had thrown more water over the side. Joy and ‘Trolley started to search the boat forward. ‘There were speedy results. An eager cry came from Joy and he called back: Wiere’s a ond; Chi. The boat: mast and sails are still fastened to the seats where they were before she capsized. Hurrah! Wecan do something now.”? Clif ceased bailing in a jiffy and scram- bled forward. He found his companions tugging away ata long shapeless mass, which resolved itself into a mast and a damp, soggy leg-of-mutton ‘sail. ‘“This is great,’? he exclaimed, exult- antly. ‘‘It means that we can manage to keep afloat and make a little headway anyway. It can’t be far to the coast of Portugal, and if the old Monongahela don’t turn up we’ll take a cruise of our own.’? ‘We've got to have rudder,’’ said the ever practical Trolley. ‘‘Sail no good without rudder.”’ “Sure thing,’’ replied Joy. worry, we’ll get one all right. “Don t There’s a spare oar wrapped up with this sail.’’ He had made the welcome discovery while unfolding the canvas. The three castaways set to work with- out delay, and after a half-hour’s hard labor, during which they were compelled to stop and bail a dozen times, they finally had the mast stepped and a close-reefed ' sail spread. By degrees the launch worked around until it at last fell off before the wind. It was a change from the constant danger- ous rolling in the trough of the sea, but the pitching caused by the enormous waves was anything but pleasant. The three lads took turns at steering. The solitary oar found with the sail an- swered the purpose well enough. The night dragged slowly. As time passed, however, it became apparent that the gale was abating. Thesea still ran high, but the wind lessened, until at last, just before dawn, it died down to an ordinary breeze. And how the miserable, water-soaked, poor castaways waited for the first gray streaks of the coming day! Light would mean much for them. It would reveal either the welcome outlines of the practice-ship, or a dreary expanse 933 of desolate ocean. It would tell at once whether they were destined to find hope or be condemned to an uncertain fate. Small wonder then, that Clif and Joy and Trolley stood up and watched and watched as the first faint rays of the sun drew the expanse of ocean from its pall of darkness. Trolley was the first to make a dis- covery. Grasping the swaying mast with one hand, he leaned far out and pointed a shaking finger to an alinost shapeless object just visible on the port beam. A cry in a strange tongue—his own language—came from his lips, then he added excitedly: ‘‘Look! It ship or something. Look there, quick!’ “It is not a ship,’’ replied Clif, slowly. **It seems to bea capsized hull or some- thing. Perhaps it is a dead whale.”’ There was bitter disappointment in his voice. . “Tt no whale,’? insisted: the Jap. It too big. Ithink it as you say, a turned over ship. Maybe——’?’ ‘*T say, there’s something floating over there,’’ hastily interrupted Joy. He indicated a spot some distance off the port quarter. It was merely a speck tossing about at the mercy of the waves, Clif watched it long and earnestly, then he said with more excitement than he had yet shown: ‘*Do you know, I believe it is a body tied to a bit of wreckage.’ ‘*Let’s investigate. Perhaps the person may be still alive, if it is a person.” Clif sprang to the stern and grasped the | steering oar, which had been abandoned with the coming of daylight. Joy and Trolley handled the sail, and the launch was soon lumbering along on the opposite tack. The sea was subsiding with each pass- ing moment. ‘The breeze was just strong enough to allow of the free handling of. the boat. In the east the sun was climb- ing into a sky almost cloudless. It promised to be a perfect day. , Under other circumstances the cadets would have felt light-hearted and happy. But the memory of the recent night and its tragedy, and of their present desperate situation attuned no merry song for them. As they approached the object floating 984 at the mercy of the waves, they became more and more excited. Finally Trolley sprang up with a shout. ‘It two bodies, and. they tied to spar,’ he cried: “They no.dead. - I see one move,’? As if to prove the truth of his words, one of the objects feebly waved an arm. A faint shout came across the water. PTelol toelp 2? Clif glanced at Joy in amazement. ‘“’T hat voice is familiar,’’ he exclaimed. *“Can it be——”? ‘It is Judson Greene,’’ hastily inter- rupted the lanky lad. ‘‘He was in the launch with us last night.’ ‘‘T am heartily glad he is saved,’? said Clif sincerely. ‘‘Poor fellow, what a ter- rible time he must have had last night.’ **No worse than us,’’? muttered Trolley. ‘He no good anyway. Why he saved in- stead of good man ?”? ~ ““Trolley never forgives an enemy, ’? said Joy. ‘‘He has it in for Judson Greene. And Idon’t blame him, either. ‘The fel- low is a cad of the first water, and very dirty-water at that.”’ ‘“We can’t bear animosity under pres- eut citcunistances,’’ replied Clif... ‘I don’t like the fellow any more than you do. He’s tried to injure me in a thousand ways, but I am willing to forget it.’ The Jap and Joy exchanged glances, and the latter said softly: ‘“That’s Clif all over. He’s as gener- ous as he is brave and good, bless his old heart!” The launch crept nearer and nearer to the strange bit of flotsam, ‘The body of the other castaway was presently brought into view, then as the sail boat swept alongside a simultaneous cry of joy came from the trio. ‘*It’s Nanny!”? The other boy had fallen back, evi- dently from sheer exhaustion. He half- rose again, and cried wildly: ‘‘Help me into the boat, Faraday. Please hurry; I’m nearly dead. Quick.”’ ‘“The same old Judson,’’ muttered Joy. ‘‘Always thinking of himself. From the looks of things, he’s not half as bad as Nanny. The poor youngster is wounded. There’s blood all over his face and head.’? ‘“Keep up your spirits,’’ cheerily called out Clif. ‘‘We’ll have you with us ina .to revive the. Jad. finite tenderness, as he had greatsympathy — ~~~ ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. jiffy. Stand by, fellows. Steady! that’s it. Now, Judson, give us a hand with Nanny.’? . But Greene cast off the rope binding him to the spar (evidently a fragment of some wrecked mast) and unceremoniously scrambled over the launch’s gunwale. ‘“Thank God!’’ he gasped. sinking intothe bottom. ‘‘I thought I’d never see daylight again.’’ **Stilk the same old Judson,’’ muttered Joy again, assisting Cliff and Trolley to transfer Nanny’s insensible form to the launch. When it was finally accomplished, the little cadet—he was very small and young, with refined, delicate features—lay like one dead. | Clif, by a hasty examination, found that his heart was still beating, however. He applied water to the poor bruised face, and tried every means in his power He worked with in- and affection for little Nanny. At last the boy gasped and opened his eyes. He was still dazed, and he stared at those about him in a strangely terrified manner. There was fear in his eyes and his ac- tions—a deadly and unexplainable fear, Placing his arms before his face as if warding off a blow he moaned: ‘Please don’t throw me off, Judson. I’ll only hold to theedge. Don’t—don’t! Have mercy! JI—I—don’t want to die. Mercy! mercy !”’ CHAPTER \. A WELCOME FIND. ‘Judson Greene, what is the meaning of this?”? Stern and accusing Clif faced the boy cowering at the bottom of the launch. Judson’s face was white and he showed every evidence of guilt. ‘‘What do you mean?” he stammered. ‘I don’t know what the little foolistalk-__ ing about.” _. : ‘‘You tell lie,’’? broke in Trolley hotly. ‘You try do something to that boy. You beat him.”’ ‘‘Worse than that,’’ added Joy equally | angry. ‘‘Look at the poor kid’s face. Pll — ee ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. bet anything Greene tried to throw him ' off the spar to make more room for his own wortliless carcass?’ Judson maintained a sullen silence. Clif fell to soothing Nanny and soon had him more composed. When the youngster at last realized the truth, and saw that he was surrounded by friends, and one of those friends Clif Far- aday, he cried for very joy. “Oh, Clif, | can’t believe it’s true,’ he sobbed. ‘‘It must be a dream, and I will wake up and—and——”’ ‘And you will find that it’s the finest dream you ever had, youngster,’’ laughed Clif cheerily. ‘‘You are all right, Nan- ny,’ He: added, ~\ You “haven't cone: to Davy Jones’ locker yet. But tell us how you happened to get on that spar, you and Greene.”? Nanny glanced at Judson and shud- dered. The latter slyly threatened him .. with his clinched right fist, but the ac- tion did not escape Faraday’s eye. Pouncing upon Greene he grasped him _by the collar and jerked him to his feet. Then forcing him against the gunwale he cried savagely: ‘If I see you do that again JI’1l heave you overboard, you miserablescamp. You have been ill. -treating Nanny and [ll have the truth of it.”’ ‘Pitch him to the sharks,’ exclaimed Joy, also laying violent hands upon the shrinking lad. Judson was badly frightened. ‘(J_J—didn’t do anything to him, Faraday,’? he ard, struggling to hee himself, ‘‘Yes, you did, too,’’ spoke up Nanny. ‘““When I tried to get on that spar last night, you struck and kicked me in the face, and did your best to make me let go. And you only stopped because you fell into the water. Then I helped you out.”’ ‘‘We throw him overboard for that,”’ erclataied iroliey fiercely,» ‘‘He~ no eaioht fo live. ”” He advanced upon Judson so menac- ingly that the fellow fairly bellowed for help. _ ‘‘Vll do anything if you spare my life,’’ he moaned. ‘‘Oh, Pll be your servant and——’’ shut up,” roughly. interrupted Clif, ‘‘We can’t execute you, you fool. This Faraday, don’t kill me. 935 is no time or place for heroics. None of us may live another day.”’ Judson crept whimpering to the bow of the launch and lay there huddled ina heap. Clif glanced curiously at the fragment of spar, which was still bobbing and toss- ing alongside. ‘It’s not part of the Monongahela,’’ he said.. ‘‘It’s from some wrecked mer- chantman. Whata lucky thing it hee pened along as it did.” ‘That's true,” agreed) Nanny @or- nestly. ‘‘When ‘the collision happened J thought Iwasa goner. I floundered about and was alinost drowned when I bumped against that spar.’’ ‘“Lhere is one queer thing about it,” said Joy reflectively. ‘‘How is it we came across it when we have been sailing be- fore a gale for several hours??? ‘There’s an explanation for tigi): chuim,’’ replied Clif. ‘*The wind shifted. and we followed it. Iremember distinctly having to put the launch almost about last night.’ ‘‘We go now and see if that thing is capsized ship or dead whale,’’ spoke up Trolley, pointing to where the first ob- ject sighted by the boys was still pitching sluggishly upon the long swell. ‘It will not be much help to us, but we night as well sail over and see what it is,’’? consented Clif, grasping the steering oar. ‘‘Shakethe reefs out and set all can vas. Judson, do something for your pas- — sage.. Haul taut that forward stay.’’ While the others were at work he stood up in the stern of the launch and made a careful survey of the horizon. The sun was now fairly on its way toward the zenith, and the whole expanse of ocean was bathed in a flood of light. Overhead a cloudless sky spread from horizon to horizon in one glorious can- opy of blue. It was all very beautiful, but the lad turned away with a sigh. He instinc- tively felt that the others looked up to him as a leader, and the responsibility weighed heavily upon him. That the practice-ship had been driven to a considerable distance by the gale was evident. That Captain Brooks would return and institute a thorough search for the lost boat was equally evident. But 936 | what hope was there that the launch—a microscopical dot on the infinite ocean— would be found? _ And if the Monongahela did not turn up, what then?’ There was not an ounce of food in the boat nor a drop offresh water. ‘Thestores with which all man-of-war crafts are sup- piled, had been lost during the collision. Clif looked toward the bow. It was shattered in the upper part and the tim- bers were slightly strained. The launch was fairly seaworthy still, but could it survive another gale? a Clif’s face was very grave as he turned ~ his attention inboard again. ‘The sail was set and everything ready for proceeding onward. A course was shaped for the dis- tant object. _ Clif glanced listlessly at it. He felt as- Taed that it would prove to beeither a capsized hull—a grim relic of -some ocean tragedy—or a dead whale. ‘‘We won’t lose much time in investi- gating,’’ he said to Trolley, who had come aft. ‘‘Ifit turns out to be what we expect, we’ll make tracks for the. coast of Portugal.’’ A half hour later they were within fair sight of the object. As they neared it the ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. five boys began to show signs of surprise and eager curiosity. “Surely that isn’t the bottom of a ship,’’ said Joy. : no whale either,’’ chimed — “And him in Trolley. ‘‘What’s that thing sticking up a little aft of midships?’’ queried Nanny excit- . edly. | ‘*By gum, it looks like a broken smoke- stack or funnel.”’ | Vane thine is iron or ‘steel dace Judson, crawling aft. ‘‘See how the sides listen,” Clif said nothing, but the expression upon his handsome face indicated his lively interest. Carefully handling the steering oar he brought the launch around within a dozen yards of the tossing ob- ject, And then a simultaneous cry of amaze- ment burst from the cadets. ‘‘Great Scott!’? added Mark. ‘‘It’sa torpedo boat and it has been abandoned ... at sea!’’. [THE END. | The sequel to this interesting story, entitled ‘‘A Waif of the Sea; by En.» sign Clarke Fitch, U. S. N., will be pub- lished next week. THE CHELTENHAM MILITARY ACADEMY. BY JOSEPH COBLENTZ GROFF. (NotE: This article is the first of a series to he published describing in detail the various military schools, state and private, of the United States. The writer, F. C. Groff, is a graduate of the Annapolis Naval Academy, and at present commandant of a prominent New York City military school.—Epiror.) COLONEL JOHN C. RICE, PRINCIPAL. To properly educate a boy means at the present time more than simply to teach him mathematics, science and the languages. It really means that the boy must be developed morally, physically and socially as well as mentally, if he is to become an active, useful and refined member of the society in which he moves. While the system adopted at most high-class military schools is such as to meet a great many of these re- quirements, not all are equally fortunate in having the proper location and surroundings, which without doubt havea great influence upon the student and should be the most important feature to be considered in the selection of a school for the young. A school that can rightfully boast of excellent nat- ural advantages in this direction is the Cheltenham Military Academy at Ogontz, Pa. Situated on the summit of the Chelten Hills, 500 feet or more above the sea lavel, enjoying plenty of fresh air and pure water, it is very justly noted for its general healthful- ness. But nine miles from Philadelphia, it is near enough to enable the students to avail themselves of all the advautages and pleasures of a large city, and at the same time it is far enough distant to be rid of the many disadvantages of the same. In 1871 the late Rev. Samuel! Clements, D. D., as- sisted and encouraged principally by Dr. EH. W. Ap- pleton, Mr. Jay Cooke and the late Mr. Robert Shoe- maker, prominent citizens of the neighborhood of . Ogontz, conceived the idea of founding an institution where a limited number of young men and boys might receive a full college preparatory course, surrounded by all of the necessary influences. The immediate re- sult of their ideas was the Cheltenham Military Acad- emy, which during the twenty-six years of its existence has prepared more than six hundred young men for various pursuits in life, and is ably represented by its graduates n Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Columbia, Cor- nell and the other leading colleges of the country. 938 The school grounds are large, well shaded and care- fully kept, there being in aJl about sixteen acres which furnish for the school a parade ground, an ath- letic field, vegetable gardens and pleasant strolling places for the cadets. The most prominent part of the grounds is occupied by the several school buildings, which are large and commodicus and in very gvod eondition. The main building contaivs the drawing room, the reading room, the office and library, sleep- ing apartments for thirty of the younger cadets and the rooms of the principal and family and of several masters. The annex contains a reading room for the upper school and quarters for about thirty of the older ca- dets. About two years ago a new school building, known as Norwood Hall, was erected and this contains the as- sembly room, recitation rooms, laboratory, music room and lyceum. In the basement there are bowling alleys ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. the third week in September and closes at the end of the second week in June, with the usual vacations at Christmas and Easter. D : The rates are about the same as those required at all. well appointed boys’ schools, there being, however, liberal reductions made to clergymen and to officers of the army and navy. Besides, there are five scholarships that have been established in the Academy for the sons of clergymen, each scholarship having an income of $300 per year. The.regular rate per year is $600, in return for which the cadet is furnished with board, furnished room, tuition, school stationery, washing, use of arms and accoutrements and all the advantages that are offered by the school. : The personnel of the school is presided over at pres ent by John C. Rice, Ph.D., who for some years has been its efficient principal. Though still a young man, Dr. Rice has been engaged for a great many years in GROUP OF OFFICERS. and other means of amusement for the cadets in bad weather. ; Besides these three buildings there are a gymnasium and a chapel building, the former being a large, new- ly-built structure supplied with the best apparatus; the latter being so constructed as to furnish a school chapel, an armory, a drill hall and quarters for about ten cadets. In every building where cadets are quartered there is at least one resident master, who is present most of the time to enforce the school and dormitory disci- pline. é The school is only intended to accommodate, at most, seventy cadets who wish to reside on the grounds, but in addition to these there is a limited number of day pupils admitted. At present there are in attendance at the school sixty boarders and ten day cadets. The school year begins usually some time during the prcfession of teaching, and he has enjoyed from the beginning of his regime at Cheltenham that success and satisfaction which invariably follow a determined, straighforward and wide-awake system of providing for the wants of the students, : Next in authority is the commandant of cadets, who is at the head of the military department and is the school tactician. © This position is held at present by Major Thomas A. Blackford, who is now beginning his third year at the Academy in this capacity. Major Blackford isa graduate of the well-known Virginia Military Institute at Lexington, Va., and has been engaged in military work in connection with private schools for about seven years. He isa good athlete and in a@dition to his duties in the military de- partment he assists the cadets in the various forms of atuletics engaged in at the Academy. ARMY AND - His past record has proved him to be a good disci- plinarian and an enthusiastic instruetor In addition to the two officers already named, the different depart- ments of mathematics, science, English studies, clas- sics and history are presided over by the following gentlemen: George W. Woodward, A. M., Fred Doo- little, A. M., Paul C. Scharff, A. M., Louis C. Wil- lias, A. B., David B. Longaker, B. E., and Arthur ©. Curtis, A. B. There are also connected with the school five lady as- sistants, also instructors in athletics, music and danc- ing, a school physician and a chaplain. For the pur- poses of discipline and for instruction in infantry tac- tics the cadets are organized into a battalion of two companies, each company being commanded by a ca- det officer, whois under the direction and supervision of the commandaut of cadets. d The officers and non-commissioned officers are se- lected from those cadets of the upper school who have NAVY WEEKLY. an asin and interest of the cadets, as a result of this inno- vation, have been noticed by those in authority at the academy. ; : The cadets wear exclusively either a fatigue uniform of gray, somewhat like the West Point cadet fatigue uniform or a full dress uniform of blue cut yery much the same way. ae Both are very neat and present a very pleasing ap- pearance, and the cadets are compelled to keep them at all times in a good condition. The military drill at Cheltenham is only one’ of the several important features of the school, and is not al- lowed to be put into so great prominence as to inter- fere with the regular school duties. On the contrary, it is found to produce a_ salutary effect upon the discipline and geueral work about the school. There are three courses arranged at the academy which extend through a period of six years—the classi7 THE BICYCLE CORPS. been most studious, most soldier-like in the perform- ance of their duties and most exemplary in conduct. The cadet officers of the battalion who just finished their duties last June were as follows: Battalion staff, S. C. Morgan, captain and adjutant; I. W. Price, lieutenant and quartermaster. Captains, A company, R. M. Lincoln; B company, W. H. Kirk- bride. Lieutenants, A company, W. H. Merwin, S.C. Hulse, S. V. Brown; B company, T. L. Hayes, B. G. Nice, B. B. Boyd. On every school day the cadets ‘‘fall in’? ready for military drill under the direction of their comman- dant, and are put through the many evolutions pre- scribed in the infantry drill regulations. Besides these regularly prescribed manoeuvres there are bicycle drills executed by a picked company, which is put through all the details of alignment, firing, etc. Very good and wholesome effects upon the enthusi- cal, the Latin- scientific, and the English, the first two providing a thorough preparation for the best Ameri- can colleges or scientific schools, the third being in- tended for boys who have a business career in view and who do not intend to enter college. In order to provide a wholesome stimulus for more active work, the principal of the Academy, through the assistance and kindness of liberal-minded friends of the school, offers every yeara number of prizes to be competed for by the students. The most important ones are the ‘‘Head Boy Prize,?’? the ‘‘Military Drill Prize,’’ the ‘‘Scholarship Prize’? and the ‘‘Declama- tion Prize,’’? which were won during the past year by the following cadets respectively: Orrin Bleakley, Franklin, Pa.; Herbert M. Hall, Philadelphia; Rod- erick Barnes, New York and Ralph Kilby, Carthage, NOY: Ges There are very many schoal organizations at Chel- 940 tenham, which fact shows that the school spirit is kept alive at all times in many ways. The principal ones are the alumni association, the athletic association, the camera club, the bicycle club, the glee club, the mandolin club, the gymnasium ex- hibition team and the school paper. Under the super- vision of+the officers of the athletic association are the football, the baseball and the track teams. At present the academy holds the championship. of the Inter-Academic Athletic Association of Eastern Pennsylvania in baseball and football. The association is made up of the leading college preparatory schools of Philadelphia and vicinity, including the well-known Penn Charter School of Philadelphia. The football team for 797 is now vigorously at work, and in the ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ‘‘Reveille’? are Cadets O. F. Bleakley, R. B. Barnes, H. 8S. Mathis and J. Sheasley. The life at Cheltenhans is very similar to that at most good military schools. From ‘‘reveille’’ to ‘*taps’’? the cadet is under military discipline, which is as severe as is consistent with the requiremeats and duties of a private preparatory school. Regular inspec- tions and drills, study hours and recitatious, and the ordinary school duties—each has its allotted time of the day in engaging the attention of the cadets, but there are certain periods when they are free to enjoy the various forms of athletics and social pleasures, which help to lighten the cares and hardships of school life. Every morning and evening the cadets assemble in Norwood Hall for prayers; which are conducted by the MANDOLIN CLUB. midst of the season’s games. The team is captained by Herbert Mathis, is managed by Orrin Bleakley, and both of these cadets receive assistance on the field from Dr. Car] Williams, who is at present coaching the team. Track athletics at Cheltenham will likely improve very niaterially in, the future by reason of the recent completion of a fine'quarter-mile track for the use of the cadets. The school paper, called ‘‘The Cheltenham Reveille,”’ is a very attractive sheet of amateur journalism, con- taining interesting half-tone illustrations in each num- ber. The present menibers of the editorial staff of the chaplain or by some other official of the school. On Sunday the regular daily routine is very much modified, for in the morning the cadets haye Bible lessons, after which they attend divine services at St. Paul’s Church, which is near, or at the Presbyterian church at Ashbourne. In the evening, religious ser- vices are conducted in the school chapel by the prin-' cipal or by some visiting clergyman. To a great extent a school can be judged properly by the success and standing of its graduates, and judg- ing from the good record made at college by the ca- dets of the Cheltenham Military Academy, it can just- ly be classed among the leading military schools of the United States. : SSS Rie ie ae NTIS \\ WIA |S i \ : By William Murray Graydon Author of ‘A Legacy of Peril,” ete., etc, (“IN FORBIDDEN NEPAUL” was commenced in No. 15. Back numbers ean be obtained from all newsdealers.) CHAPTER XVII. IN THE JAWS OF DEATH. ETA HE intruder was doubtless one of the guards Si on duty in the vicinity of the Durbar House, and his inotive in coming here was either because he had seen or heard some- thing to rouse his suspicions, or from a de- sire to play the part of eavesdropper him- self. So Hawksmoor and Nigel concluded instantly, and they had so little anticipated danger from this quarter that the first. effect of the discovery was to stun them. And while they hesitated--it was but a second or two—the situation changed in a twink- ling from bad to worse. The two Englishmen werein the heavy shadow on the further side of the door, and it seems likely, from what happened, that the guard was not aware of their presence. But he must have seen Ali Mirza, and the latter was as quick as his companions to detect the creeping spy. Instead of giving the alarm, however, the little Hindoo craftily feigned indifference and reached for his knife, Cunning was outmatched by cunning, for the spy had a little trick of hisown ready. Like a flash he straightened up, and by a tigerish bound he covered the intervening distance, and fastened with both hands on the Hindoo’s throat, at the same time uttering a shrill and warning yell that rang in echoes through the stately building. Taken by surprise, Ali Mirza at first staggered and nearly fell. But he was too wiry and muscular to be thus easily overcome, and in a trice he had gripped his antagonist. ‘Run, sahibs!’? he gasped, hoarsely. The whole thing had transpired in a few seconds, and the shout of alarm woke Hawksmoor and _ his companion to a sense of their terrible danger and the need of prompt action. ‘We are lost!’’ exclaimed Nigel; and as he spoke he darted forward excitedly. It was an unfortunate move, for just then Ali Mirza and the spy, locked together in desperate struggle, lost their balance and fell. They struck heavily against the young officer, and knocked him to one side. In vain he tried to keep his footing. With head and shoul- ders he butted the lattice door, which slipped its frail fastenings and gave way, and right down upon the marble floor of the council chamber he sprawled full length. Alive to his peril, brnised and half-stuuned, Nigel staggered to his feet. Heé still wore the shooting clothes in which he had left the Residency on the night of his capture, and he knew that his identity could not be concealed. He saw the high priest and _ Matadeen Mir approaching swiftly, and the latter’s face was distorted with passion and amazed recogni- tion; a jewel-encrusted dagger gleamed in his hand. ‘*Quick, Davenant! Make a dash for it!?’ At the summons Nigel turned toward the open door, but he slipped on the polished marble and fell again, and before he could rise, the chance of escape was gone. He met the attack of bis enemies. kneeling, and by jerking his body to one side he narrowly missed the stroke of.the descending dagger. hen he flung up both hands, aud more by chance than design he caught Matadeen Mir’s right wrist, and with a force that sent the weapon clattering to the floor. A brief struggle followed. Shouting at the top of their voices, the Prime Minister and Vashtu threw themselves upon the Englishman. But desperation lent Nigel the strength of a madman, and he not only beat off the clutching arms of his foes, but managed to get to his feet. He landed a furious blow on the body of the high priest, knocking the breath pretty well out of him and driving him back in spasnis of pain, Then he rushed at Matadeen Mir, -but the latter evaded the attack by dodging to one side. He snatched up the dagger from the floor, and with an oath he swung round and confronted Nigel, bent on making a speedy end of the fray. ‘(Die, Feringhee!’’ he snarled, lifting the steel for a thrust. Nigel retreated backward a pace or two, throwing up his arms to ward off the stroke, and yet convinced that he could not escape death. But help was closer at hand than he believed. Travers Hawksmoor, having in the brief interval assisted Ali Mirza to stun the spy by dashing his head against the stone floor, now caine with a dash to the scene. So cleverly was he disguised as a native of Yoga that the Prime Minister at first believed him to bea friend; but he quickly found out his mistake, and that before he could even attempt to use his dagger. Hawksmoor threw himself between the two, revolver in hand, and with the weapon reversed he dealt a hard and unerring blow at the startled Hindoo. The brass-mounted butt made a great gash on Matadeen Mir’s forehead, and as the red blood spurted from the wound he went down like a log, and lay quivering on the marble floor. ‘*Well done’? gasped Nigel. ‘‘You saved my life.’’ ‘‘T hope I have killed the ruffian,’’ muttered Hawks- moor. ‘‘I would like to make sure, but if we delay an instaut longer we are lost.’’ : There was indeed no time tospare. Vashtu, having recovered from the blow and scorning to take refuge in flight, towered above the far end of the stone table. His arms were uplifted, his eyes glowed with fanatical fury, and ke alternately shouted in.a_ shrill voice or screamed dreadful imprecations on the impious in- vaders. And the alarm bad already spread beyond the Durbar House. From close by, in the direction of the town, came a hoarse tumult of voices, clashing arms, and running feet. ‘“Hark, they are very near!’’ said Nigel. ‘‘Yes, we must be off!’? exclaimed Hawksmoor. ‘Heaven help us if we are caught!’’ As they turned away from the bleeding and uncon- 942 scious body of Matadeen Mir, a slab of marble whizzed with unerring aim from the door. It struck tne bronze lamp, dashing it off the table to the floor and instant- ly extinguishing the flame. ‘I'he nissile was thrown by Ali Mirza—who had kept beyond reach of observation during the fight—and now his voice rang clear and sharp: ‘*Gome, sahibs—for your lives!”’ Hawksmoor and Nigel groped their way hurriedly through the darkness to the lattice docr, where they found the little Hindoo waiting for them. As they left the passage, and started at a run across the court, they heard behind them a crashing noise, and then a wild clamor, mingling with the high priest’s shrill tones. ‘he guards had entered the couucil cham- ber from the town side, and, in addition to that danger, alarming sounds could be heard right and left. ‘*T will not gointo the cavern,’’ said Ali Mirza, leading the way through the tangle of ruins. ‘‘I know a passage close by that is safe for me alone, and as my face was hidden from those whom we fought to-night, I can walk about without suspicion in Yoga.”’ ‘That is true,’’? assented Hawksmoor. will come to us with news in the morning??? ‘Truly 1 shall come,’’ replied the» Hindoo, ‘‘but not to the island of the Evil Spirit. Go quickly through the cavern, sahibs, and when you have crossed the bridge hurl it into the gulf; for when you are not found here, some will think of the passage, and a search will be made there. Tell Bhagwan Das to guide you to the island of the temple without delay, and to that place I will come before many hours. Keep these words in mind, my master.’? (+) will remember them—l understand,’’ muttered Hawksmoor. ‘‘But be careful, lest harm befall your- self.’’ There was no time to say more. The mouth of the funnel was just ahead, and the noisy clamor of the pursuers seemed to be only afew yards behind. Ali Mirza prised the stone slab open, and closed it on his companions the instant they had entered, leaving them in darkness and silence. Hawksmoor had a box of vestas and one of the resinous torches concealed in the folds of his kammerbuud, and as soon as he had lighted the end of the stick, he led the way forward. *‘Do you think Ali Mirza will escape?’’ Nigel asked. ‘tT am sure of it—he is too cunning to be caught. But I say, Davenant, what amess, we have made of it to-night! For one thing, you should have come dis- guised.’? “T know that,’? recognized me.”’ : ‘¢ € eourse he did. And there will be the biggest rumpus to follow that wasever heard of in Nepaul. You understood the conversation in the council cham- ber??? ‘Perfectly; and a most fiendish and cunning plot it is. But will this scrape interfere with your plans for rescuing the girl?” ‘‘] don’t know—lI can’t tell yet,’’?’ Hawksmoor. an- swered. brings us to-morrow, What most concerns us at pres- ent is to get safely through the mountain, and move our quarters.”’ i Ee ‘YOu surely don’t think there is any danger of pur- suit??? Nigel asked, uneasily. Before the question could be answered, the silence in the rear was broken by a sudden confused noise—a din of voices aud hurrying feet that echoed strangely through the hollow space. ‘(Tt means the worst, my dear fellow—a race for life,’? exclaimed Hawksmoor ‘‘With devilish cunning the rascals have tracked us to the mouth of the tun- nel, and they are going to give usarun forit. I did not expect them so soon, I confess. We must makea spurt, Davenant. Come along!”’ Side by side they pressed on at a run, the yellow glare of the torch flashing ahead on the rocky walls and roof. ‘Tbeir breath was giving out when they reached the top of the ascent, and the clamor in the windings of the passage -behinc them sounded much louder than before. They sped fleetly over the level and came at last, panting and badly winded, to the pre- carious bridge; and as they looked over their shoulders they saw ruddy lights flashing in the rear, ‘No time to spare,’? muttered Hawksmoor. ‘I’ll go first.’* ‘And you assented Nigel. ‘‘Matadeen Mir ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. ‘¢T¢ will all depend on the news Ali Mirza. \ He vapidly crossed to the other side, and thrust the torch into a crevice of the rocks. ‘*Come on, Davenant!’’ he called. Nigel planted his feet on the bridge and began the perilous little journey. He reached the middle safely, his nerves unshaken by the swaying movement and by the yawning depths below. On and on, foot by foot, until he was within less than two yards of where Hawksmoor stood waiting with outstretched hand. Then one of the side strips suddenly snapped. and he lost his balance. With a frighteued cry he fell through the gap, snatched at and caught the strip next to the broken one in both hands, and hung suspended over the black gulf. -CHAPTER XVIII. THE FIGHT AT THE BRIDGE. The thought of his narrow escape from instant death, of the slender thread on which his life still de- pended, chilled and weakened Nigel for an instant. Half numbed by horror, he swayed to and fro in empty space, feeling in imagination the frightful plunge that his body must soon make to the unknown bottom of the abyss. He was sure that his weight would speedily break the strip to which he was cling- ing, yet he could not draw hiniself up, nor did he dare attempt to shift his position to one of the side poles. A few seconds passed, and they seemed to him as so mauvy minutes; then an ominous cracking noise just overhead. ‘*Help—help!’’ he called, hoarsely. A confused clamor was‘echoing through the cavern now, but above it Hawksmoor’s voice rang out dis— tinctly: ‘¢Hold fast, Davenant! I will save you!’’ The words gave Nigel courage—nerved him a little. ‘‘Hor God’s sake be quick!’’ he answered, as he tightened his clutch on the strip. He heard a din of yelling voices and running feet. behind him, and realized with fresh horror what it meant. ‘¢Keep cool, old fellow.”’ Hawksmoor spoke with cheering calmness and he bad already crawled three feet out on the frail bridge, which oscillated and creaked alarmingly under the double burden. An instant later Nigel saw his friend’s head and shoulders looming above bim, and then a pair of dusky hands reached down and took a firm grip on bis two aching wrists. ‘Let go, Davenant. Trust to me.”’ Hawksmoor was kneeling on the cross-strips and had braced himself for the struggle. With a gasp Nigel released his hold. For a second or two he dangled in air, a dead weight; then he was drawn slowly up _between the side poles, until his head was above them. ‘The bridge stood the strain splendidly, as did Hawksmoor’s muscles; and at last, with a final effort, Nigel was pulled to where his knees could rest on the strips. His head was swimming, his strength was almost gone, and he was wet with per- spiration. ‘Don’t let go of me,’’ he pleaded, huskily. ‘Cl must,’? Hawksmoor answered: ina sharp tone. ‘(Crawl after me on hands and knees, and if you feel dizzy throw yourself flat. Quick! there is not a second to lose.’’ The peremptory command had a bracing effect on Nigel at once, and he obeyed instructions. In spite of the swaving of the bridge he kept his balance and slowly followed his rescuer, while the latter receded backwards,from strip to strip. Only a few feet had to be traversed, but it wasa most critical moment for the two fugitives, and the odds were all against them. . The risk of falling into the chasm, or of the birdge breaking, was slight com- pared to the danger that was swiftly overtaking them from the rear; for now the pursuers were so close that the reflection of their torches flashed faintly to right and left of the bridge, and their savage yells, blend- ing with the patter of many feet, told that they had sighted their prey. : Hawksmoor was facing that way, and could see all, but his rigid, motionless features told nothing—re- ~ vealed no sign of the tremendous mental strain he — must have been enduring. The temptation to turn and | — look over his shoulder almost mastered Nigel. _ ~e ‘(Are they at the bridge yet?’’ he panted, as he — _ and straining away like a slave. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. crept on unsteadily. ‘‘Will we have time to throw it into the gulf before they can cross?”’ **Be careful—don’t get reckless!’? was the calm and evasive reply. **Answer me!’? insisted Nigel. ‘“We will escape, Davenant, though it will be by the skin of our teeth. I promise you that, so don’t lose heart. A little faster—we are very nearly across.’? The words were almost drowned by a burst of fiendish cries. Wavering streaks of yellow light played all about the fugitives, and several spears and other weapons whizzed over their heads and fell witb a clat- ter, A second of two more and Hawksmoor was at the brink of the chasm. Springing like a flash to the firm rock, he bent down, seized his companion’s: arnis, and hauled him up beside hm with a swift and steady pull. Then his right hand went to his kumimerbund; there was a glimmer of steel, and a sharp report woke a thousand echoes. Nigel tottered a few feet back from the brink, trembling like a leaf. Brave and cool-headed as he usually was in times of peril, that frightful experience on the bridge had thoroughly unnerved him. His brain was dizzy and confused, and what he saw when he turned and looked towards his companion seemed fora moment more like a vivid nightmare than a reality. In the mouth of the tunnel across the chasm, lit up ruddily by the glare of two or three torches, a dozen ov more of swarthy, ferocious featured natives were dancing about and yelling. with rage—huge fellows with long black hair, wearing tunics and short trous- ers of green calico, and armed with tulwars, spears, and knives. One of their number lay dead on the very brink of the gulf, killed by Hawksmoor’s first and only shot, and this had temporarily checked the others and driven them back a little. Directly opposite to them, fearlessly exposed to the light of his own little torch, Hawksmoor was making the most of the chance, tugging with both hands at the bridge; but the structure was heavy and cumber- some, and the fact that four feet of its length rested on the rock added to the difficulty of his task. Calinly he draggel it to one side, inch by inch, while the yelling fiends let fly a straggling shower of weapons that missed him as though he bore a charmed life. Divining the intrepid man’s purpose, and seeing that he must soon succeed, the natives suddenly screwed themselves up to a fanatical pitch of courage. Screech- ing louder than ever, they made a dash at the bridge. But Hawskmoor was as quick to act, and, standing erect, he leveled and aimed his revolver, Crack! With the flash and the report the foremost native, who wasalready on the bridge, flung up his arms and toppled into space with a yell. The crash of the body, far below, was drowned by the second shot and its echoes. Another of the swarthy wretches fell, and lay quivering on the brink. The rest wavered for an instant, and their cries of rage made a weird and blood-curdling chorus in the hollow heart of the mountain. ‘‘Davenant, I need you. Quick!?? The summons roused Nigel from his stupor. Less than a minute had passed while he stood looking pass- ively on from the background, and uow he sprang eagerly forward, fired by a burning desire to take part in the gallant struggle. “He stooped to grasp the end of the bridge. ~ ‘*Wo, not that,’? Hawksmoor shouted, looking at him doubtfully. ‘‘You will lose your head and fall over, Is your arm steady?’’ 1 think so,’? ‘Then take this’’—thrusting the revolver into his haud. ‘‘There are three shots left, and our lives de- pend on them. Don’t waste a single one, but keep those devils back!’ ‘Pll do it,’? Nigel vowed fiercely: and as he stood back a little, leveling the weapon, Hawksmoor again tackled the end of the bridge. At that instant the natives, grown desperate and ‘reckless, made another rush to the brink. Some hurled short spears acfoss, and two. ventured daringly on the bridge. Untouched by the weapons. Nigel took a steady aim and fired. The foremost man pitched head- long into the gulf, and_ his companion, losing heart, scrambled back. ; *‘Good shot!?’ cried Hawksmoor, who was tugging ‘‘Half a minute more _ will do it, Davenant!?? : Es 943; But meanwhile two new arrivals, bearing torches, had joined the foe. One of these a big, brawny ruffian, was armed with a musket. Pushing forward, he knelt. on the very brink of the chasn and took deliberate aim at Hawksmoor. Nigel saw the danger, and both fired at the same instant. The erack of the revolver was drowned by the thunderous report of the heavier weapon, and through the curling smoke the Hindoo was seen to reel, pitch forward, and vanish in the depths of the gulf. **T?m not hit! The bullet went by my ear!?? Hawks- ger shouted, in a cheery voice. ‘*Wateh sharp, Dave- nant!”? There was a burst of ear-splitting yells, and half a dozen of the natives, roused to a pitch of insane fury, made a bold attempt to carry the bridge. Three were treading nimbly aud swiftly across the swaying struc- ture betore Nigel could send the first. oné headlong down to death. ‘he other two came on recklessly, and two more joined them. ‘‘That was the last shot,?? us!”? **Tt’s all right !?? Hawksmoor yelled, in triumph; and as he spoke he darted back from the brink. What happened next was before Nigel’s eyes for many a day. The end of the bridge was nearly off the rock, and suddenly, under tke great strain, both of the main poles suapped in the middle. Down went the structure in two parts, taking its burden of four screaming wretches with it. There was a frightful crash, a couple of thauds, and after that a moment of shuddering silence; then across the bridgeless chasm rose the frenzied wailing and shrieking of the sur- vivors. Snatching the torch froin its cleft, Hawksmoor called to Nigel, and they turned and sped through the tun- nel, where now no foe couid follow them. In the rear the outcry faded and died, but they hurried on with unflagging steps, thinking of the horrible tragedy they had just witnessed, and wondering what baleful influence on their future the night’s adventure was destined to have. There was no time to lose, for they knew that the Kalli river would be searched ere morn- ing, and that without delay they must reach the more distant island mentioned by Ali Mirza. The torch was burned almost to the end when they came to the beach by the Water-passage, where Bhag- wan Das was waiting, and it needed no more than a glimpse of their faces to tell the old Hindoo that dig- aster had happened. The story was briefly related tom him while he paddled the boat swiftly to the river and across to the Island of the Evil Spirit. cried Nigel. ‘‘God help CHAPTER XIX: THE HINDOO’S WARNING, It was very close to dawn, and the hour, to the old proverb, was of the darkest. mered in the starry sky, and there according No moon glim- was a strange blackness in the hushed night-air. At a distance of three or four miles from the Island of the Evil Spirit a heavily laden boat was gliding up the channel of the Kalli river, slowly cleaving its way to the subdued drip and splash of the paddles. In the bow of the craft, almost indistinguishable from the heaped-up masses of luggage, crouched Bhag- wan Das. He was on the alert, with eyes fixed keenly ahead, and from time to time he called directions in a low voice to his companions. Travers Hawksmoor and Nigel Davenant were squatted one behind the other in the stern, and while they paddled they talked anxi- ously of the horrible things they had seen and done that night, and of the dangers which they might at any moment be ealled upon to grapple with. There was reason for fear and uncertainty. It had been late when they reached the island, and it had beeu much later when they embarked on the longer journey, the three men and all the traps. in one boat, The other boat was securely hidden among the rocks, and by Hawksmoor’s advice the canip had been cleansed of all trace of human occupation. It was now close to morning, and the island was but a few miles in the rear. As yet the night was calm and quiet, but the fugitives knew that the dawn, if it fell upon them ere they reached their destination, might reveal them to watchful eyes and pursuing foes. ‘lo you see any light in the east??? Hawksmoor. asked. 944 ‘““Not the faintest streak,’’ said Nigel. ‘*Tt will come soon enough,’’? his companion mut- tered. ‘‘In Nepaul the dawn breaks almost without warning—a black sky one minute and a spreading wave of silver the next.’’ ‘*Are we near to this island of the temple, where we are to find safe shelter and to meet Ali Mirza???’ Nigel questioned. *¢*T don’t know,’’ Hawksmoor replied. Das, you can tell us that.’ ‘«Sahibs, it is not far,’’? the Hindoo answered. ‘‘Pad- dle well, that we may make a good race with the com- ing dawn. Already we have entered the lake——”’ ‘The lake!’? interrupted Hawksmoor. ‘*The purple lake of Dacca!’’ ejaculated Nigel. They looked about them with curiosity and surprise. intent on paddling and conversation, they had failed to notice the change from the channel of the Kalli river to the wider surface of the lake. There was little to mark the difference now, save for the fading into pale shadows of the mountain walls that had loomed right and left. The current was perhaps more sluggish, and a light breeze had sprung up that might be the precursor of the dreaded dawn. ‘¢So this is the mysterious lake of Dacca, which leads to the monastery !’’ said Nigel. ‘‘And why the purple lake??? ‘(Daylight will answer the question,’’ said Hawks- moor, ‘‘if what reports I have heard are true. Come, we must paddle faster. What a clumsy old tub this is—beastly hard to drive! I almost wish we had brought two boats. Bhagwan Das, are you attending to business?’? ‘*My eyes are open, sahib,’’? the Hindoo replied. **Paddle straight on for the present, as you are going now. It is very near to the dawn.’’ ‘Tyo you think we are out of danger?’’ Nigel asked, as he quickened his strokes in time with his companion. “It is hard to tell,’?’ muttered Hawksmoor. ‘‘We may be sure that our enemies lost no time in taking to boats as soon as the survivors came back from the tunnel. They are shrewd devils, and would likely make a search both up and down the river.”’ ‘“Phen they may be close behind us??? ‘Tt is quite possible, Davenart.’’ ‘‘What we have gone through since last evening seems like a bad dream,’? said Nigel. ‘‘I can scarcely believe it all—the interview between the Prime Min- ister and the high priest, the fight in the Durbar House, the retreat through the tunnel, and that awful scene at the bridge! I wonder if you killed Matadeen Mir.”? **No such luck, Davenant. But I’m sorry now that I didn’t; for in that event the priests would probably have restored Miss Brabazon to her friends after a short time. Now; the ruffian will recover, and go on with his little game—until we beat him.’’ “(T fear that is inipossible.’? : Hawksmoor shrugged his shoulders. ‘¢We shall see,’’? he muttered. ‘‘I1 have hopes of be- ing able to play the trump card at the end.’’ ‘*You put fresh courage into me,’? said Nigel; ‘‘and yet I feel that nothing short of a miracle can save the girl from Matadeen Mir’s base design. He is powerful and dangerous, and he is such a clever plotter——’? ‘‘Yes: his cunning almost compels one to admire him,?? broke in. Hawksmoor. ‘‘You heard the inter- view with Vashtu—that tells all. Until recently the Prime Minister’s sole aim and purpose in life has been to seize the throne and make himself sole ruler of Nepaul. Then Muriel Brabazon appears on the scene, and he falls in love with her with all the fire of an Oriental’s passion. Hesees a chance to win the girl and the kingdom at one clever stroke—to enlist the owerful and necessary aid of the priests of Durgadeva. Bo, daring scoundrel that he is, he hires some skilled ‘*Bhagwan ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. artisan to forge that prophecy on the slab of stone, and arranges for the discovery of it in the old Durbar House.”’ s ‘*You believe it is forged?’ Nigel exclaimed. : ‘‘Tam certain it is,’* Hawksmoor said, with a smile; ‘‘and it is done so cunningly as to defy detec- tion.’? ‘*Then there is no hope that the priests will suspect the villainy?”? ‘‘None, Davenant. Don‘*t-look to that source fur the girl’s deliverance. We only can save her.’ ‘*Then you are still determined to attempt her res- cue??? ‘*Tf you are still in the mind to join me.’’ ‘‘1? Can you doubt it, Hawksmoor? Give me the chance—I’ll save Muriel Brabazon or leave my bones in, Nepaul. I wish, though, that it was possible to get some word to Colonel Raincliffe.’’ ‘*That is out of the question, Davenant. In Kat- mandu and at the Residency you are believed to be dead—drowned in the Vishnumati. The illusion must not be broken.’?’ ‘*Yes, you are right,’ assented Nigel. ‘‘But tell me by what means—if you have any plan—you hope to rescue Miss Brabazon.”’ ‘*My plan is only half-formed,’’ Hawksmoor replied, ‘‘and whether I undertake it or not depends: on the report Ali Mirza brings. But the time has come to be open with you, and what little there is to tell you shall know. To-morrow, Davenant, is the first of three days set aside in every month when from far and near the natives bear offerings of food to the monastery. The gifts are, of course, for the benefit of the priests, but they are deposited at a shrine in one of the outer courts.. We will join these pilgrims, cunningly dis- guised, and enter the court with them. Bhagwan_Das _ will accompany us, and at the first opportunity he will guide us unseen from the court to a certain under- ground part of the monastery which the priests rarely visit. The rest must depend on chance. If you and 1 can find out where Miss Brabazon is confined and suc- ceed in releasing ber, Bhagwan Das will lead us toa secret water passage, procure boats, and take us down the lake to the Island of the Evil Spirit. That place is most unlikely to be searched, and we ean hide there until the time is ripe for us to join Ali Mirza’s cara- van, and so slip ont of Nepaul.’’ The reckless daring of the plan, while it appealed to Nigel’s adventurous spirit, fairly took his breath away. ‘*Tt’s the riskiest thing I ever heard of,’’ he said, ‘tand there’s about one chance in a hundred of sue- cess. But I] am with you tothe bitter end, Hawks- moor—count on that. And has Bhagwan Das con- sented to play his part? 1 am surprised at that——”’ ‘*He has promised, Davenant, and I shall hold him to his word.’’ ‘*Good. And Ali Mirza is not going with us??? ‘*Why should he? He can dous better service out- side the monastery. He will see that the Island of the Evil Spirit is supplied with provisions against our ar- rival, and will make the necessary arrangements for getting us over the frontier.’’ ‘*Does he know who Bhagwan Das is—that he was once a priest of Durgadeva?”’ ‘‘Ali Mirza has been kept in ignorance of that fact by the wish of Bhagwan Das,’? Hawksmoor replied, ‘fand Iam certain he does not suspect the truth, Come, Davenant, we must paddle faster. Look, a glimmer of light is breaking yonder on the hori- zon ! ‘*Hist, sahibs!?? interrupted the anxious voice of the Hindoo. ‘‘Cease paddling for but a 1noment. Unless my ears deceive me, I have just heard that which we wish not to hear.’’ (TO BE CONTINUED.) By Ls = ~ DEAN DUNHAM; SS , OR, THE WATERFORD MYSTERY. By HORATIO ALGER, Jr., Author of “The $500 Check,’ etc. VaR (Copyrighted, American Publishers’ Corporation.) y ; 2 x 7 2} fj Wi SAG AVS; NAG NAG WW. WG (LQG LESSING OCONEE COLO AICOILALGSS ANAK Me BAcFAICA Ae eae Nes FACT ANC AVCe nV. (* DEAN DUNHAM’’ was commenced in No. 10. Back numbers can be obtainec 2 AY AY Cl Wr OV: from all newsdealers,) ~ CHAPTER XXXII. OUT OF THE ENEMY’S HANDS. BEN and I will hide and leave you to re- yi} + ceive them alone,’? said Rawson, rising hastily. ‘*But——’’ expostulated Dean siderable alarm. ‘*Don’t be afeared, lad. They shan’t do : you any harm. We want a little fun, “that’s all, We shall be close at hand.’’ The two darted behind a tree, leaving Dean reclining on the turf. Kirby aud Dan approached, engaged apparently in earnest conversation. They were close upon Dean be- fore they recognized him. ‘It is needless to say that their amazement was profound. -, ‘ook there, Dan!’? said Kirby, ~‘*¢There’s the kid!’’ ‘¢Well, I’m beat!’’ ejaculated Dan. ‘*How on earth ean he have escaped? If he got away without Pompey’s knowledge he’s about the smartest -{,youngster I ever came across. I will take care it -shan’t happen again.’’ - Striding forward, Kirby confronted Dean stern face. : Dean, by way of carrying out the deception, started and assumed a look of terror. ‘*What does all this mean, boy?’’ demanded Kirby. ‘*What does what mean?’ asked Dean in apparent perplexity. ‘‘How eame you here? You know well enough what I mean.’” : ‘*T walked,’’? answered Dean, demurely. ‘Of course you did! How did you get out of the place where I put you?”’ ~**T went out at the back door.’’ Kirby turned to Dan in alarm. ‘*Was it unlocked?’’ he asked, resuming his examina- tion of the boy. S : ‘¢Yes; if it hadn’t been I couldn’t have got out.’ “_ **Where is Pompey—the negro? What did you do to him?” asked Kirby, suspiciously. ‘*He fell asleep after dinner.’’ : ‘¢And I suppose you took the key from him in his - sleep,’’ said Kirby, rather as a statement than an in- --quiry. s ean made no reply, and Peter Kirby took this as an admission that he was right. : “*'hat must be the way, Dan,’’ he said, turning to his companion. here, or we might have been deprived of his society.”’ _Dean looked depressed, and Kitby was deceived by “bis manner, oe = in con- stopping short, with a ‘‘T suppose you know what’s going to happen??? he said addressing himself to Dean. ss ‘Well, you’ll soon know. You’re going back to keep “It’s lucky we met our young friend company with Pompey. He is very lonesome there in- the cave, and he will be brightened up by having a boy as company.’? ‘*Oh, Mr. Kirby, please let me go on my way!’’ pleaded Dean, : ‘‘T am sorry to disappoint you, but it can’t be done. Sit down, Dan. We’ve got a long walk before us, and we will rest a while.’’ The two men seated themselves one on each side of Dean, occupying the exact places recently vacated by the two miners. Kirby had been angry at first with Dean, but the exultation he felt at recovering him abated his wrath and made him good-natured. He felt like the cat who has the m¢~se securely in his power. ‘Oko!’ he laughed, ‘‘this is a good joke! This fool- ish lad really supposed that he had bidden us good-by. Didn’t you, lad?’ : ‘‘Yes; I never expected to see you again,’ Kirby laughed again. ‘*My lad,’’ he said, ‘‘you are not yet smart enough to circumvent Peter Kirby. You’ll have to be several years older at least.’’ ‘*Mr. Kirby,’’ said Dean, earnestly, ‘‘ will me why you want to keep me a prisoner???’ ‘*Suppose I say that I like your society?’? ‘*] shouldn’t believe you.’’ ‘*You are a sharp one, youngster. only reason.’’ **So I thought. What is the reason, then??? ‘*You know too much and suspect too much, boy. You’re a pesky young spy. We don’t propose to leave you at liberty to injure us.’’ ‘*Was that why Squire Bates arranged for you to i me with you?’’ asked Dean, with a penetrating ook. ‘‘What motive could he have except to help you to a position?’’ answered Kirby, evasively. : a ‘‘T don’t know,’’ answered Dean, emphasizing the last word. ‘*But you suspect something. Is that it???’ Dean nodded. = : ‘‘Boy, you are too candid for your own good. It is clear that you are too sharp to be kept at liberty.” “‘Do you mean to take me back to the cave?” ~ ‘tVes.?? : . ‘*Why not let me travel with you instead? I should prefer it to such a gloomy prison.’’ ; ‘‘No doubt you would, but, as it happens, I am not bound to respect or consult your wishes. No doubt you think you would have a better chance to escape if I let you go with me.’’ : ‘*Yes,’’ answered Dean, demurely. oe ‘‘So I thought, and that is the very reason I can’t gratify you. I can’t be bothered with a boy I must constantly watch, though, for that matter, if you you tell That isn’t the played me false again,’’ headded sternly, ‘‘I shouldn’t — : seruple to put a bullet through your head.’’? — He looked fiercely at Dean as if he meant. it. Dean as ~ 946 > ARMY AND had no doubt that nothing but a fear of the conse- quences would deter him from the desperate act he hinted at, and he rejoiced more than ever that he had two stalwart friends so near at hand. There was a little more conversation between Kirby ~ and Dan, and then Kirby rose to his feet. — ‘Well, poy,” ’ he said abruptly, ‘‘it is time for us to be going.” ‘Go 1f you like, Mr. Kirby!’ ‘‘T prefer to remain where I am.’? ‘*What, boy?’’? exclaimed Kirby, angrily, mean to defy us?’’ ‘‘T mean, Mr. Kirby, that you have no right to in- terfere with me, or to deprive me of my freedom.’’ ‘*No right, have 1?’’? inquired Kirby in a_ sarcastic tone. ‘That is what I said.”’ ‘Then, boy, you’d better not have said it. You won’t fare any better for it, I can tell you that. Come, get up, and at once!”’ said Dean, quietly. “do you He leaned over, and grasping Dean by the collar pulled him-roughly to his feet. The next moment, he thought he had been struck by lightning. He received a blow on the side of his head that stretched him full length on the ground. When he rose, vaguely wondering what had hap- pened, he confronted not the boy he had assaulted, but a strong, athletic man, with a powerful frame, and a stern, resolute eye. This was Rawson, but he was not alone. Standing between Dean and Dan was another man, younger, but looking quite as powerful, Eben Jones, of Connecticut. ‘‘What do you mean by this outrage?’’ demanded Kirby, with a baffled look, gnawing his nether lip in abortive wrath. **Phat’s a question for me to ask, torted Rawson, coolly. ing the bhoy?’’ ‘*What do I mean? Heis my ner YEN; serted and deceived me.’’ ‘Ts this true, lad?’’ -**No, it isn’t. I came West with his man, as a secre- tary, not knowing his character. 1 found out that he was a thief and then I left him.’’ ‘*You shall answer for this, boy !”? most frothing at the mouth. me?”” ‘“The boy is telling the truth. I make no doubt, if you call that insulting you,’’ said Rawson. ‘‘He tells us you shut him up in a cave.”’ ‘*Ves, and I’ll do it again,’”’ _ Swill you indeed? You are at liberty toe try.’’ ‘‘What have you got to do with the boy any way?’’ ‘t& good deal. We have just admitted him as a part- ner in our mining firm. You’ll find us in Gilpin County if you want to call, though on the whole I wouldn’t advise it, as we miners make short shrift of such fellows as you are.’’ ‘ said Raw- son, laughing. ‘‘Well, to-morrow, then, we’ll let our neighbors know that our claims are for sale.?? ~ Dean and his two friends retired at an early liour, They usually became fatigued by the labors of the day, and did not require to court slumber long. They rose early, and took their breakfast at a restaurant It is easy to said asked who are and yet you admit me said Rawson, objected I’m not going to give ’em -near by. Before this was opened, they took furns at cooking breakfast themselves, but were glad to dele- gate that duty to sonie one else. Dean, as the best penman, prepared the sign: THESH CLAIMS FOR SALE. Rather fortunately, as Rawson was weak not only iif writing but in spelling, and would have been very, likely. to write ‘‘Theas clames fer sail,’? without a thought that he had committed an error. About nine o’clock on the second morning, a small : walked leisurely up to | man, dressed in a drab suit, Rawson, and remarked: to sell these claims.’’ ‘¢Hxactly, if we can get a fair price. “By we you mean——’ ‘*Myself, Mr. Jones and the boy. We are "partners, Where might you be from, friend?’ = “(1 have an office in Denver. a Philadelphia syndicate to buy some mining property, — which will be worked with the help of improved . Mas chinery in a systematic manner.’ “Then you will need more than we have to sell,’? fy understand that yor Mish ‘*f have secured the property on each side of you,’? = said the agent, composedly. 2 By the way, what are _ The kid’s heen a. E ees my last I am commissioned by — % ‘What figures are you prepared to offer??? asked — me Cos want to ‘be Z ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. = extortionate, but the claims are good “ones, aud we don’t want to sacrifice them.’’ ‘Then ensued a few minutes of bar gaining, in which Dean took no part. Eben, though usually the most silent of the three, now developed the qualities char- acteristic of the New England Yankee, and it was due to him that the property was sold for six thousand dollars. SEE might have got more if I’d stood out a little * longer, The said, half regretfully. “must have some brains, “Weve done pr atty well, though,’’ said Rawson, eomplacentily. _ It’s two thousand dollars apiece, say three, with what we’ve taken from it in the last six months. What do you say to that, lad? You’ll go home with three thousand dollars.’”’ ‘*It doesn’t seem possible, Ben. Why, Uncle Adin has been at work for forty years, and I don’t believe the old place would fetch that.’’ ‘*Money’s easier to come at than in the old You’ll astonish the old folks, lad.” « ‘*There’ll -be some others that’ll be surprised,’’ said Dean, smiling. ‘‘Squire Bates and Brandon among the rest.’’ ‘*Tt’s better than going home like a tramp. Its strange how much more people think of you when you’re worth a little property. And I don’t know but they’re right. To get money, I mean honestly, a man and he must be willing to work. How much money do you think I had when I arrived here?”’ -*tT don’t know.’? ‘‘Highteen dollars. It was grit or brains with me, I ean tell you. Eben here wasn’t much better off.’’ ‘““Not so well. I ony had nine dollars.’’ ‘*And now we’ve got eight thousand pees That’ll make us comfortable for a while, eh, Eben? <‘for life, Rawson. I shall never. come back here, “put settle down at home, where people will call mea rich man.’’ ‘*t can’t answer for myself. Dean?”’ ‘tT shall come back,’’ said Dean, positively. ‘«There’s very little chance for me in Waterford.?” ** Well, perhaps you are right. You’ll have a fair start, and you’re industrious and enterprising.”’ Ae hey stopped in Denver on their way home, and called at the office of the agent through whom their claims had been sold. — ‘*Gentlemen,’’ said the’agent, ~ give you some advice?’’ ‘“‘Certainly,’’ said Rawson. times. How is it with you, ‘‘may I venture to “The best thing you can do with a part of: your. money is to invest in real estate in this town.’’ Eben Jones shook his head. - ‘77m going to buy a farm at home, and put the rest of the money in the savings bank,’’ he said. ‘* How is it with you, Mr. Rawson?’’ * **No doubt your advice is good, but I want to let the folks at home see what I have brought in solid cash...” .**And you?’’ continued the agent, turning to Dean. ~ *T will invest two thousand dollars in Denver lots,” said Dean, promptly, ‘‘and take the rest home as a present to my uncle and aunt.’’ ‘“You-won’t regret it. Denver is growing rapidly. T predict that the lots will double in your hands in a ear.’ Dean took a walk round the embryo city with the agent, and made a purchase of ten lots on Lawrence street in accordance with his judgment. _‘‘Now,’? said the agent, smiling, ‘‘I shall be sure to see you out here again.’’ 3 = CHAPTER XXXV. AFFAIRS IN WATERFORD, Leaving Dean in Denver, let us go back to Water- - ford and see how matters "stood in that quiet little village. With Adin Dunham they did not go well. He had an attack of rheumatism during the winter which hind- ered him from working for several weeks, and so abridged his earnings. Both he and his wife missed Dean, whose lively and cheerful temperament enlivened the house. - had passed since they had heard from him. -**T don’t know what has ee to Dean,”’ said Adin one Satur ee evening, when he sat - beside “the _ They were troubled, too, beGause montlis ~ behindhand. from these rheumatic pains. ed kitchen fire with his wife. ‘‘Seems to me he’d write if he was in good health. I am afeared something has gone wrong with-the boy.’ ‘‘! hope not, father,’’ said Sarah Dunham, in her knitting. ‘‘So dol, Sarah, but you must agree that it’s — strange he don’t write.?? ‘‘That’s true, Adin. He was always a_ thoughtful, ee boy. The house seems lonesome without im “‘So it does, Sarah. well I wouldn’t mind that. and——’’ ‘*‘Don’t say such things, father,’’ said Mrs. Dunham ina tremulous voice. ‘I can *f bear to think any- thing’s happened to the boy.’ “But we must be re ed for the worst, if so be . the worst has come."? ‘*f ani sure he is alive and well,’’ said Sarah Dun- ham, who was ef.a more hopeful temperament than her husband. ‘Then why don’t he write?”’ ‘*To be sure, Adin. That’s something I can’t ex- plain. But Dean’s healthy, and he’s a good boy who wouldn’t be likely to get into mischief. Instead of he- ing prepared for the worst, suppose we hope for the best.’ ‘*Maybe you’re right, Sarah. I try to be cheerful, but since | was*robbed of that thousand dollars luck seems to have been against me. And the worst of it is, Sarah, I’m not getting younger. I shall be sixty- five next month.”’ “Tam not much behind you, Adin, as far as years 0. 2? **T did hope that Dean would be in a position to help me when I got along in years. I mistrust I made a mistake when fT let him go out West. If he’d stayed here, he might have been a good deal of help to us both.’ ‘*Still there didn’t seem: to be much of a prospect for the boy.”’ ‘‘He could have managed the farm when he gota little older.’’ ‘‘That is true, but it-has never given you a living, Adin. You've had to depend upon your trade.’’ ‘*HWe could have learned the same trade. A _ trade’s a good thing for a boy to have to fall back upon.’’ **He may come back, and realize all your expecta- tions, Adin. We mustn’t despond till we have reason to pausing But if f only knew he was doin? He may have got sick ‘oThere’s another thing that’s worryin’ me, Sarah —it’s the mortgage. Next week six months’ interest falls due—-twenty-four dollars—and I haven’t the money to meet it.’’ : “Squire Bates won’t push you, surely.”’ ‘*J don’t know. Once or twice lately when I met the squire he dropped a hint that he was short of money I didn’t say much, but it struck me he had an object in sayin’ what he ‘did.”? ‘*It’s the first time you haven’t been ready ‘with the interest, isn’t it, Adin??? ‘“Yes, the very first time.’? — “Then perhaps he will overlook it this time. bet'er manage to see him about it.’” ‘*J?ll do it the first time I see him.”?’ That time came sooner than either of them thought, © Adin Dunham had scarcely completed his sentence when a knock was heard at the door (Adin had never so far fallen in with city customs as to introduce a door bell.) Mrs. Dunham rose and opened the door. ‘*Good evening, Mrs. Dunham,’’ said the visitor, suavely. ‘*Good evening, Squire Bates,’? said Sarah in sur- prise. ‘‘Won’t you walk in?”’ ‘*Yes, thank you. Is your husband at home?”’ **Oh, yes, he never goes out in the evening. Adin,”? she said) preceding the visitor, Tere is Squire Bates, who has called to see you,’ ‘‘T am glad to see you, squire,’’ said the carpenter. “Take a chair, and excuse my gettin’ up. My old enemy, the rheumatism, has got hold of me, and [’m_ - too stiff to move easy. Dy ‘‘Oh, you are quite excusable, Mr. Dunham. sorry to hear that you are so afflicted.” ‘‘Tt isn’t altogether comfortable. Besides, it puts me _ ‘T’ve lost at last four weeks this winter You’d. I am aad be indeed 1)” _ thing toa poor man. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. that is a serious “*Yes, and as you can imagine, **T suppose so,”’ Se the squir e, ‘coughing. ‘*T am glad j you came in, squire, because I wanted to speak to you about the interest on that mortgage.”? “It falls due next week,’’ said Squire Bates, promptly. ‘*Just so, and I’m sorry to say that for the first time I shall be unable to meet it.’? ‘«Indeed !?? returned the squire, his voice chiens. ‘‘That is very unfortunate !”’ ‘*So it is, squire, but I hope as it is the first time, you will overlook it,’? said Adin Dunham, anxiously. ‘*My dear sir,’’ said the squire, ‘‘it is hardly neces- sary to say that I As ruly sympathize with you. You be- lieve that, I hope? ed thought you Weald, squire. I didn’t believe you’d be hard on me.’’ ‘‘But—you misunderstand me a little, neighbor Dunham—I cannot be as considerate as I would like to be. The fact is, 1 am very short of money, embar- rassed in fact, and I depended on that payment. Per- haps you can ‘borrow it??? ‘‘There’s no one in the village likely to accommodate me with a loan unless it’s you, squire.’ “And lam very short of cash. Indeed it would hardly do for me to lend you money to pay me, would it, now??? ««T am afraid not,’’ said the carpenter, “ruefully. “Tn fact, neighbor Dunham, I came here this even- ing to ask if you couldn’t arrange to pay the mort- gage.”? **Pay the mortgage!’’ echoed Adin Dunham, blank look. ‘* Yes; I thought you might raise the money in some way. “*} wish you’d tell me where, Squire Bates. Hight hundred dollars! Why, it’s as big to me as the na- tional debt! I did expect to pay off the mortgage with re thousand dollars, that I was so wickedly robbed of.’ ‘Oh, ah, to be sure! It wasa great pity that you were prevented from doing it.’’ “‘That robbery broke me down, Squire Bates. I be- lieve it has made me five years older, though it hap- pened less than a year ago. It makes me feel kind oc rebellious at times to think that such a villain as the man that robbed me should go unpunished.’’ ‘‘It isn’t best to cry over spilt milk,’’ said the squire, who felt obviously uncomfor table under these allusions. ‘*T can’t help thinkin’ of it, though, squire.’’ ‘To be sure, to be sure!”’ ‘When it was gone, I hoped that Dean would be able to help me to pay up the mortgage some time.’’ “Have you heard from your nephew lately?’’ ‘*Not for months. Have you heard from the man he went out with?’’ ‘*Yes, I have heard several times.’’ with a _ ‘Does he say anything about Dean??? ‘*He says—but perhaps I had better not tell “you. I = : ae don’t want to distress you,’’ and the aque hesitated. _ ‘Say what you have to say. I can stand it ‘*He says he discharged. Dean for eeeaty oe ‘Dean dishonest! Why, squire, you must be jokin’.”’- “*¥ am sorry to aay neighbor Dunham, that there is — no joke about it.’ taken.’’ ‘‘T tell you, Squire Bates,’’ said Adin Dunham, an- grily, ‘‘that my nephew Dean is as honest as I am my- self. The man that charges him with dishonesty isa liar! this time.’’ ‘“‘T agree with my husband,’’ said Sarah Dunham, her mild blue eyes sparkling with indignation. “ Noth-- ing would induce Dean to steal.’’ ‘“‘Of course you are prejudiced in your vephewtee favor,’’ said the squire, with a slight sneer. ‘‘It is . Kirby is not likely to be mis- very natural, but you can’t expect others to agree with you. However, we will drop this subject. I am afraid Dean will never be able to help you. I used to think well of him, though my son Brandon didn’t agree with me.’’ : ‘¢tWhat can your son Brandon know of Dean com- pared with mother and me, who have known the boy — since his birth?’’ the car penter rejoined warmly. ‘“*T won’t argue the question, neighbor Dunham. In-~ deed I feel for you in your disappointment. But to come back to business. You mustn’t blame meif I. foreclose the mortgage, as the law gives me a right to do. I wouldn’t do it, I assure you, if cir cumstances | did not make it imper ative.’ ‘‘Foreclose the mortgage!’’ repeated Adin im con- sternation. a ‘Ves, or 1’ give you eight hundred dollars for the’ place over and above the mor tgage.”’ ae “Only eight hundred dollars! Why, robbery !”’ ‘‘Think it over, neighbor Dunham, and don’t de- cide hastily. You’ll think differently, I am sure, when ~ that would be you have had time toconsider it. I must bid you good-_ ea evening now, as I am in haste,’’ and the squire rose quickly, a and lett the room, followed to the door me- chanically and in silence by Sarah Dunham. ‘‘Sarah,’? said the carpenter countenance,. ‘‘this 1s worse than-all. were indeed forsaken by Providence.’’ ‘‘Hush, Adin! That is wicked. It looks bard, but the Lord. may yet give us deliverance.’’ ; ‘‘T am afraid we shall end our days in the poor-. house, Sarah,’’ said the husband gloomily. “Tt won’t be this year or next, Adin. Hight hundred dollars will support us for two years, and then there . is your work besides. Let us look on the bright side!”’ But that was not easy for either of them. It seemed to Adin Dunham that his cup of bitterness was full. It looks as if we (TO BE CONTINUED.) It’s a word I don’t often use, but I must use it — with grief- -stricken oe Copyrighted, American Publishers’ Corporation.) (“TOM FENWICK’S FORTUNE”? was commenced last week.) SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. The story opens in the western mining town of Lodeville. “Pom,” alad of seventeen, employed as a helper at Bix- ton’s hotel is discovered, by means of a handbill from the east, to be a runaway for whom a reward of five thousand dolars-has been offered. desperado named Montez. persuade her father to come to his assistance. Tom overhears the reading of the bill and escapes from town on the horse of a Mexican He encounters a girl on the road whois being tormented by a band of vagrant Indians. rescues her, butis overtaken by Montez at the head of a number of citizens. horse-ste¢ aling and is taken back to Lodeville and imprisoned in the town lockup. He Tom is charged with the grave crime of Dolly Bruton, the girl, promises to CHAPTER IV. Sons PFE as O C.K Oe P Nee“ OHN BRUTON made his appearance at the “lockup’’ early on the following morning, and after a short parley with one of the guards was admitted. Tom was secretly disappointed at Mr. Bruton’s outward appearance. Somehow he had expected to see a man whose dress and manner would suggest a certain degree of influence in the rough community where he seemed to be well known. But excepting for an old tweed shootingescoat worn over his woolen shirt, Mr. Bruton’s outward at- tire did not differ materially from that of his own ranchers and cowboys. Yet John Bruton was the owner of ‘‘cattle on a thousand hills,’’? and his moneyed wealth was estimated at nearly half a million. For the rest he was tall and strongly built, with slightly stooping shoulders and beard sprinkled with ray. Nodding familiarly ta Tom, ne seated himself on the edge of the bunk, eyeing him sharply for a moment without speaking. Then he smiled broadly. ‘“*Dolly was right,’’ he said; ‘‘you’re square as a brick. I know an honest face when I see it—so does she. But how happened you to get into such a scrape?’’ Tom hesitated a moment, but only a moment. The shrewd, kindly face was inviting to confidence, and Tom felt sorely the want of a friend. ‘*Well, you see, Mr. Bruton, in the first place I—ran~ away from home.’ ‘¢But what for? You don’t look like a chap that has been ill treated.’’ ‘‘N-9-0-0,’’ said Tom, slowly, wasn’t one of that kind. But after wanted everything his own way.’ On a stepfather, eh? Well, he do you mean by his own way??? Tom shrugged his shoulders. ‘(Mr., Parlin is a very rich man, and lives in great style. He never really liked me, because I wasn’t ac- customed to that sort of thing. My own father had enough to make us comfortable—nothing more; and somehow I couldn’t fit into the big house with servants in livery and all that sort of thing.’’ ‘‘Wanted to kick over the traces, eh??? ‘‘T—-suppose so,’’ returned Tom, encouraged by a slight twinkle in his listener’s eye. 8 I didn’t un- iE ‘A Dy > ED ‘‘my stepfather mother died he til Mr. Parlin told me after I graduated from school that he’d decided for me to study law.”’ Mr. Bruton glanced at Tom’s broad shoulders and athletic frame. Then he whistled softly, but made no comment. **1?m not fit for a lawyer,’’ Tom blurted out. ‘‘If he’d let me go in for civil engineering, which I’vea taste for, there’d been no trouble. But he was _ horri- fied at the idea. We had wor ds, and—I went away one night.”’ *¢And struck for the West?’ ‘Oh, no. This was the first time—when I was six- teen. I joined Vanderlyn’s yacht, and took a cruise round the world. I was gone a year and two months. They made me quartermaster coming back. But I didn’t like sea life well enough to follow it up.’’ ‘¢ And I suppose your stepfather liked it less.’’ ‘*T should say so. For so dignified and pompous.a man, he was in an awful rage with me. Said I’d dis- graced his family name by my low tastes, and all that. Finally he ended by telling me to leave ‘the house and never darken his door again till I was Teeny si to say I’d enter Brief and Suem’s law office.”’ ‘¢ And I suppose you weut?”’ “tT did—the very next day. Mother some money, and I drew a thousand dollars. started for the West.’’ ‘‘What.under the sun did you go to work at Bixton’s with a thousand dollars in your pocket for?’’ Tom laughed. ‘‘Mor one thing, I wanted to get used to horses, and to learn the ways of the people out here: I only meant to stay til] I could see my way clear to something diff- erent, anyhow. And I thought if Mr. Parlin changed his mind and sent after me, a detective wouldn’t look for me as a helper in a stable.’’ ‘*It seems by the placard at Bixton’s that he has ehanged his mind. And I understand that Bixton and the detective are quarreling about the reward. That high had left me Then I iit? “Tf what? If they get me back Hast?’’ “*No, I didn’t mean that exactly,’’ returned Bruton with an involuntary contraction of his forehead. ‘‘The —magistrate,’’ he went on, after a little pause, ‘‘is away at San Juan for a couple of days, so 1’m afraid you'll have to content yourself as best you can under lock and key till he gets back, for of course there oF be any trial till then.” Tom uttered an exclamation of dismay. ‘“Pwo days in this cattle pen!’? he said, half de- spairingly; ‘‘why, it will drive me wild. Confinement $50 of any kind is the hardest thing in the world for me to bear. I was made for an out-of-door life.’’ ‘“You’ll have to stand it, though. 1 offered to be responsible for your appearance, but they wouldn’t lis- ten to it. That Montez is——’’ Here Bruton checked himself suddenly, and began questiouing Tom concerning the affray between him: self and the Mexican, with all that followed. ‘‘Dolver, the magistrate, is a fair mah, according to his lights,’?’ remarked Bruton, after he had heard Tom through without interruption; ‘‘and with what little influence I may have in the matter I think he’ll let you off with a nominal fine—if he gets back in time.’’ : : ‘*Get’s back in time!’’ repeated Tom vaguely. ‘‘Before imprisonment drives you wild, as you say it will,’’? hastily returned Bruton, with a show of lightness. ‘*But I must be going now. Keep up your eourage. You'll hear from me in some way. before long. Only don’t be surprised af my messenger or. what he may bring you—if I should send one.”’ With this rather enigmatical closing, and extended his hand. ‘tT ean’t thank you properly,’’ began Tom, rather ~ brokkenty, ‘‘but——’’ - ‘*No thanks. I don’t forget your service to Dolly. She’s as fearless as she is good, but the child didn’t realize the hidden deviltry there is in those indians, and Blueskin is the worst of his kind. Naw I must go.”’ When the heavy door had closed behind his new friend, Tom felt a vague feeling of uneasiness creeping over him, He remembered Bruton’s hesitation; his twice repeated ‘‘if.’’ And vaguely to mind camea recollection of prisoners who, for real or supposed crimes, had been taken by force from Western jails and hung without the benefit of judge or jury, by men of Jawless passions. Yet when we read of similar. tragedies or terrible deaths we are apt to think of them as _ liable to bap- pen to any one excepting ourselves. And so with Tom, who gradually persuaded himself that the thing shad- owed in his mind could not by any possibility occur. And as far as possible he dismissed the matter from thought. The day was a tremendously long one. From time to time Tom varied the monotony of walking the hard clay floor by peering through one of the wider chinks between the logs. The view was not particularly inspiriting at best. The mountain winds swept the dust in whirls and eddies through the long street, which everywhere was strewn with empty bottles, meat tins, and refuse of all sorts. Not a tree or shrub was in sight below the higher range of the foothills. As was customary, those who were not at work in the mines above were asleep in their cabins below. At the further end of the thoroughfare Bixton’s hotel loomed up aggressively red and staring among its humbler whitewashed neighbors. There seemed a more _ than usual stir about the premises. Tom noticed a dozen or more horses standing about the yard, as well as quite a little gathering on the stoop. Men were coning and going between the various saloons, which, excepting on Sunday, was not common to Lodeville in the daytime. The day wore slowly on and drew to a close, its weary monotony only broken by the appearance of his jailer bringing Tom’s meals. Onee Tom ventured to ask for reading matter, but was refused. ‘*We ain’t lit’rary foiks here to Lodeville. We leave _ that fer Hastern tenderfeet that come out here hoss stealin’,’’ was the curt response. j As darkness settled down from the hill tops, Main street became ablaze with lights, and Lodeville was again awake. From saloons and small gambling dens Tom could hear the sound of hoarse laughter and _bois- terous revelry echoing on.the stillness of the evening air. Some mounted cowboys from a neighboring ranch came clattering down the street. A fight began on the corner, and a pistol shot rang out, followed bya hoarse Bruton rose cry, after which came a turault of excited voices. It was evident that the evening festivities were begin- ning. eS ~~ ‘*Hallo, Snowball, whar you boun’?”? __ One of Tom’s guards was the questioner. By the light of the flickering oil street lamp before his prison house, Tom saw through the erevice that the party ad- _ dressed was a colored lad somewhere near his own we ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. age with a banjo ina green baize covering under his ~ arm. : ‘“‘I’se gwine furder up de street to play in some ob dem saloons, sah.’’ The accentuation was that of the true plantation negro, and the appearance of the speaker carried out. the suggestion. e He was as black as the proverbial ace of spades, with the kinkiest of wool topped by a dilapidated: straw hat. His trousers were patched, and his shirt, open at the throat, displayed an expanse of ebony hued chest. ‘*Ain’t you one of the song an’ dance chaps was with Myers’ show that busted here a couple of weeks. sence??? asked another, beekoning the colored boy, who advanced with seeming reluctance. “*De same, sah. I’se George Washington, one ob de celebrated De Jones brudders. Dunno whar Jim drifted. to when de show bruk up. Be’n walkin’? on my uppers pickin’ up jobs roun’ de ranches, but dat’s too hard work. Pickin’ up de banjo’s easier, so I’se calkalatin’ to work froo to ’Frisco somehow an’ get an engage-. ment.?? - While he was thus talking Mr. leisurely toward the guards. ‘“What’s dis ar buildin’—a cattle pen?’’ ‘*You kin call it so if you like. Say, give us a tune, brudder De Jones. You’ll git a crowd ‘here nigh as quick’s you would to the saloons, an’ them that?ll. shell out the dimes, too.’’ s ‘The minstrel walked to the side of the lockup and. seemed to look it over curiously. Then, laying his banjo at his feet, he turned, and, leaning his back against the logs*with his hands clasped behind ~him,. gave one of those rich, rollicking laughs peculiar to. the African. ie ‘*Hi-yah-yah-yah!” ‘“‘Well, what is it, Snowball?’’ : ‘*T wuz thinkin’ dis yer cornecob buildin’ minded me — ob de time we wuz showin’ ober in Mizzouri.”’ And then Mr. De Jones entered upon an anecdote which has no place here. It was a rambling story hav- ing but little point,.and padded out with innumerable guffaws. Now Tom had been listening with the listless curi- osity that might have been expected under the circum- stances. % All at once from between the logs directly behind the darky’s body a wad of the moss used in the chinking fell inward almost at Toms feet. ‘‘Only don’t be surprised at my messenger or the message he may bring you.’’ g Instinetively Mx. Bruton’s words flashed across Tom’s remembrance. Breathlessly he waited what might come next. oes \ ‘*An’ now you heard de story. I’se goin’ to gib you white folks a song.’’ Almost simultaneous with the remark, something. long and slim, wrappped in a piece of white paper, . followed the moss. a ‘*But we don’t want no singin’ without you plunk the banjo,’? Tom heard one of them say, as he. snatched up what had fallen with trembling fingers. De Jones sauntered George Washington De Jones was heard to murmura ~~ hesitating consent. Picking up the banjo, he walked — away, and, taking a position under the street lamp, began tuning the instrument, while a little crowd. gradually assembled. E Hagerly Tom withdrew to a place near the door,- where a few feeble rays from the lamps without. — streamed through the apertures. Se He held in his hands a long, slender saw of the kind; known as the ‘‘keyhole’’ pattern, with a straight. handle like that of a knife. Around the blade was a, hastily written note, reading thus: ao ‘*Montez has worked up a gang ta break open the’ lockup and take you out some time toward morning. They say to tar and feather you, but I fear something worse, You will know what to do with what 1 send. Work at the rear. .The colored fellow will hold their attention in front. Strike for the creek, and follow to ~ the bridge where it crosses the north trail. Wait there, and George will join you. Leave the rest to him. : : There was no name signed, but that was not neces- — sary. Tom tore the message into bits and chewed them __ to a pulp. Then without further delay he prepared for what he had to do. : Before beginning his daring attempt, he tuok a pre-. cautionary peep from the front of his prison. MRE Ree tot SAS ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. In the center of a grinning circle, among which were Clary and Lewis, his two guards, stood the colored lad —his head thrown back and banjo in position, at- tacking the usual preliminary interlude. Clary whispered something to his mate, who nod- ding, caught a lantern from the ground, and with his Winchester in the hollow of his arm, strode toward the lockup. : With a perception of his purpose Tom bolted into the berth, and, enveloping bimself from head to: heels in his blankets, began snoring miusically. The door was flung open, and the light of the lan- tern flashed on his recumbent form. ‘“‘Well wrapped up, but Eastern tenderfeet is delicate animals anyway,’’? audibly remarked Lewis. Then with another glance he’ withdrew, and Tom chuckled as he heard the bolt snap in the big padlock outside. ‘“*Opening choris,’’ called the minstrel, after the manner of his kind. Then he began: “*Call me your darling again, And give me the dear smile I implore; Say that I love not in vain; Oh keep me in sorrow no more.’’ Clear and true rose the singer’s voice, which was one of singular strength and pathos. A roar of appiause followed, despite the maudlin sentiment, seemingly foreign to the surroundings. ‘“*Now give us somethin’ more nat’ral like. We ain’t much in the ‘yum yum?’ line,’’ shouted some one. Striking a few notes, the singer began again—in a different key: = ‘*Come friends and list to a terrible tale, + _- Lm an object of pity and looking quite pale, ‘I left off my trade selling Ayers’ pills To go and hunt gold in the dreary Black Hills.’’ Chorus. “Oh don’t go away. Pray stay if you can Far from the city called Fatal Cheyenne, Where big Wallopee and Conmianche Bill Will take off your scalp if you go to the hill.’’ A perfect furore followed this chaste and pathetic production. Meanwhile, on his knees under the table, Tom Fenwick was sawing away for his life. CHAPTER V. THE ESCAPING PRISONER. The sharp saw cut into the seasoned pine logs of the lockup rapidly in Tom Fenwick’s firm grasp. One of then) was sawed entirely through when Mr. George Washington De Jones completed his second song. ‘*T shall never forget that fellow.’s singing,’’ thought tom, beginning his second cut about two feet to the Tight. > _ This time George De Jones, after passing round his battered hat, broke into one of these so-called ‘‘jubi- lee’’ songs, which perhaps owe their popularity large- ly to the sweet minor key in which so many of them are sung. _ It was the first time Lodeville had ever listened to -anything of the kind, and the rough audience went quite wild over the song, ‘‘Oh Ring dem Golden Bells.’’ After which came one which hada certain “appropriateness for the occasion. At any rateso thought Tom, as drawing a long breath of satisfaction, he _ pulled the severed section of log from its place, leav- ing an opening quite large enough for his exit: - **Oh Dan’l was sabed from de lion’s den, . \|’se gwine to weep no more; De Hebrew chillen fron de fiery pen, _ I[’se gwine to weep no more. De ord can set de pris’ner free, I’se gwine to weep ho more; An’ so He’ll rescue you an’ me, I’se gwine to weep no more.’’ ‘ Before leaving his prison house Tom took the pre- caution to roll his blankets together in shape some- thing like the human form, and stow them at the further side of his bunk as a sort of ‘‘dummy’? in case of a second visitation from his jailors before mid- night. Then, squeezing himself through the opening = Son he had made, he replaced the sawn section, and looked about him. The lockup faced the street about three-fourths of the way down. Behind it wasa rocky waste, sloping to a gully through which ran the creek mentioned in the message. : Above the noisy tumult from the saloons Tom could hear the notes of George De Jones’ banjo, acconr panied by his clear tenor voice in song after song as they were called for by his delighted audience. ‘“Good-by, Lodeville—I’ve seen ali I ever want to of a mining town,’’ he muttered. Dropping upon hands and knees, he wormed his way through and over vari- ous obstructions down to the bed of the gully. Then, rising, Tom followed along the ereek—a turbid, slug- gish stream that formed a branch‘of the Rio Colorado. = The sky was half hidden by fleecy clouds, through which straggling moonbeams sent light enough to en- able the fugitive to get on with considerable speed; and in less than an hour, he reached the rude bridge that crossed the north trail. Here began the growth of willow and cottonwood on the banks of the creek, which extended brokenly over the rolling country to the north and east. Concealing himself in a thick clump, Tom waited with what pa- tience he might the coming of George Washington De Jones, But hour after hour passed’ without the slightest sign of the colored lad. : Crickets chirped, froys croaked, and an _ occasional coyote gave tongue in the distance. The night air grew damp and heavy as the hours dragged slowly on, and Tom, none too warmly clothed, shivered when every now and then he wakened from an uneasy drowse. His situation was not a pleasant one, He was a fugi- tive, cold, hungry, and unarmed, with a price on_ his head, escaping captivity to avoid being hung fora horse thief. He had just made an enemy—two, in fact, including Blueskin— who, he felt quite sure, would lose no time in revenging himself, should ever opportunity occur. ‘¢Perhaps I should have been wiser to have stayed East and studied law, after all,’’ he thought witha combined sigh and shiver. The night shadows gradually began lifting. A streak in the east spake of coming dawn. Where on earth was George Washington De Jones? What did Mr. Bruton—— ‘tDar’s a camp meet’ down to Huckleberry Swamp, Oh, let my people go. Igs.you anywhars ’round, you runaway scamp? Oh, let my people go.’’ Tom uttered a joyful exclamation as his rescuer’s voice suddenly broke upon his ear. Round a_ bend in the wagon trail Tonrsaw him approaching with the banjo under his right elbow, occasionally picking a stray note from its strings. And De Jones looked as tresh and cheerful as possible. ‘‘Here | am,’’ called Tom, rising with some diffi- culty by reason of his cramped limbs. _ “Oh, ain’t I glad——get out de wilderness!’’ chanted the ebony minstrel. And then, executing a mest mar- velous pigeon wing, he approached and eyed Tom curiously for a moment without speaking. Seeing him for the first time distinctly, Tom noticed that his features, though intensely black, bad not the distinctive African type.. His eyes were soft and dark, but the nose was aquiline rather than flat, and the mouth well shaped, without the thick lips peculiar to the race. ‘¢So you’re Mars Tom Miss Dolly done tell ’bout,’’ said George Washington, slowly; ‘‘how you sabe her from dem Injuns an’ all dat. Least we could do, she say, was help you out. An’ I reckon we done it up in good shape, eh?’’ ‘*You did indeed, George,’’ Tom returned, earnest- ly, ‘‘and I shan’t forget your share in the matter, I can assure you. But hadn’t we better be getting further’ away? They’ll find out my escape before — long. \ ] No hurry,’’ coolly returned De Jones, ‘‘dat’s dis- cubbered mor’n two hour’go. Ki yah—warn’t dat fun, dough! mor’n twenty ob ’em—faces brack as dis _ chile’s, tie dem two guards an’ bust in de lockup door. Montez was first in, an’ grab for you—not’in’ but roll — of blanket! Golly, how he swear!’’ : Sa Tom could but laugh despite his anxiety. ~ of te 952 “What did they do then?’’ ‘‘Some one t’ink he see feller light out toward San Juan ’bout midnight, on hossback. So de hull ca- boodle put off full chisel. Spee’ dey’s half way dar now. You hungry??’ tite was of the healthiest, and danger had not affected - it in the least. Motioning his companion io a seat by the creek side, George produced from one end of the banjo covering a paper parcel of ham sandwiches. ‘*Had all de grub I wanted las’ night. libely,’’ he remarked. And Tom did so. From the opposite end of the covering which had been hung over one shoulder like saddlebags, George poured into his straw hat, placed on the ground for the purpose, a perfect shower of silver pieces, wlfich he counted with considerable swiftness. ‘‘Mourteen dollar sixty-t’ree cent—dat not bad con- siderin’,’’ he remarked with a curious upward glance at Tom. : _ ‘No, indeed,’? was the warm response, ‘‘and here—I didn’t pay for’ my share of the niusic.’? Throwing over his vest, Tom took a gold piece from one of the compartments ‘ota money belt about his waist. ~ Hoe in _ But to his surprise the colored lad shook his head vigorously. ; “No sah. Dat wasn’t in the ’greement ’tween me’nu Maxs Bruton.’’ And all Tom’s urging failed to shake his purpose. s George replaced the silver, and turned with a rather guizzical look to his companion. ““S’pecs you ain’t one o’ dem proud chaps dat’s shamed to hab a brack feller for a fren’. ‘*By Jove, I should hope not, especially a friend who has risked as much for me as you have.’? ‘‘Dat’s all right, den. Now, I hab lil’ scrub en de crik—den we go.’’ From a capacious hip pocket, which seemed to con- tain a multiplicity of articles, George Washington gravely produced a bit of yellow soap and a section of towel. Retiring behind a willow clump, be began his ablu- tions, which, considerably to Tom’s. surprise, were somewhat lengthy. ‘*Now, then, Tom, if you’re ready, we’ll vaniose this ranch for the other. ?? Tom started, stared, and rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming? Before him stood a bright-faved young fel- low of about sixteen, clear-skinned and clear-limbed in a double sense—his every movement having a cer- tain wiry activity that was very suggestive. His short hair, clipped close to the scalp was coal black, in marked contrast to the whiteness of his features, which, however, was not due to ill health. : In one hand he held a wigof the kind peculiar to the burnt cork fraternity. This he held up, with a laugh. ‘*Thought I'd rattle you a bit! But come on—it’s almost sunrise. We can talk as we go along. Shouldn’t wonder, though, if they sent one of the boys forward with a couple of spare horses.’’ ‘How long have you been at Mr. Rruton’s ranch?”’ was the first question that rose to Tom’s lips. ‘¢*About a week. He’s my uncle, only I hadn’t ever seen him before. And say —Geor ge Washington De Jones was only my stage name. I’m Phil Amsted by rights.”’ But Tom was so bewildered by the oddity of the whole transaction that be had no words in response. ‘‘Trail turns to the left at that clump of scrub pine. The other one goes on to Wasuma Gap.’ Thus saying, Tom’s new friend struck into a ee ‘(] just am,’’ was the emphatic reply. Vom’s appe- “rarity of the atmosphere, ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. beaten track leading across a swelling intervale of short thick grass turning brown.in spots. — Over the upland, just beginning to be tinged with the gold of coming dawn were scattered herds of cattle grazing and bunches of horses. Lofty: hills rose as a background—themselves — dwarfed by the mighty mountain ranges behind them. Beautiful as it was, Ton’s curiosity regarding his new acquaintance for the time absorbed his entire attention. : -‘*How long have you been doing this sort of thing?” : he suddenly asked—touching the banjo with his finger. ‘ 2, Congressmen can appoint candidates to the Govern- ment academies only when vacancies occur in their district. 3, 4, 5, 6. See special articles now running - on the rules and regulations governing admissions into - the military and naval academies. 7%. Congressmen have the power to appoint candidates fo the academies _ without previous examination. : P. W. B., Lisbon, Ohio. —1. When the back numbers of a publication are declared ‘‘out of print’’ it means “that the publishers have none on hand save the usual office copies, 2. We have no intention of reprinting ‘They are of too recent issue. 8. The subject of Lieutenant ‘Lounsberry' s story has not yet been selected. F. S., Brooklyn, N. Y.—The special article on mili= tary schools by Mr. Groff published in No. 17, Army -and Navy Weekly, will give you the names of adjacent schools. Write to either of them for terms, etc. _ Bryan A. hong, Cali- . seen, (SPECIAL Noricye.—To insure the safe Pefigh of stamps sent to us ; for examination, correspondents should inclose them in a separate stamped envelope bearing name and address. are from current lists and are subject to change.) The number of stamps printed of-each value of the Newfoundland Cabot issue is as follows: 3-cent, 1,000, - 000; 1-cent, 2-cent, 4-cent, 5-cent and 6-cent, 400,000; | 8- cent, 1@-cent, 12- cent and 15- cent, 200,000; 24-cent, 380- cent, 35-cent and 60- cent, 100, 000. The plates have already been destroyed, so ‘no more can be printed. The 1-cents have all been sold, and no more can be bought at the postoffice. Among the countries that have discontinued issuing stamps are the following: British Colonies, Antigua, Dominica, Montserrat, Nevis, St. Christopher and Vir- gin Islands, now the Leeward Islands; British Colum- bia, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island, now Canada; Griqualand, now. Cape of Good Hope; Madagascar, now French; and Oil Rivers. Protectorate, now called Niger Coast Protectorate. — An error of the Canada jubilee post card has been on which the inscription is omitted. The card is typographed from steel blocks, being made in two pieces, and the block with the inscription dropped out of the press during the printing of a few copies. A copy of the 1861 3 cent pink was recently found on an old letter in which the stamp was unperforated and with large margins. Unperforated copies of this stamp have been seen unused, but this is the first used copy that has turned up. New plate eae have appeared recently as fol- lows: Nos. , 481, 482, 483, 484, 485, 486, 487, 488, 489, 490, 491, eee No. 492, 10-cent special delivery : Nous. 498, 494, 495-and 496, l-cent; Nos. 497, 498, 499 and 500, 2-cent. A stamp company has recently been formed in this city with a capital of $100,000, divided into shares of $1 each. Any collector wishing to become a partner in a stamp firm can now do so at the moderate outlay of $1 F. A, E., Anderson, Ind.—The flying eagle cent.of 1856 is worth $1.50, if perfect. There is no premium on the 1857 or. 1858 cents. The J. W. Scott.Co., 40 Jobn street, New York, will buy rare coins. The bars across Spanish stamps signify that the stamps are remainders and sold to dealers as such, and they are far less valuable than posta ny. used specimens. By a law recently passed all used stamps imported into Italy are classed as lithographic prints, and are — < subject to a duty of $15 per 100 pounds. The current l-penny English stamp has been sur- charged ‘‘Gov't. Parcels’? in black, for official use. ‘France has one of the highest inland postal rates, =15 centimes, or about 3 cents. per half ounce, The color of the current 5- vent stamp of Peru has been changed from blue to green. WwW. W. W. Aurora, Mo. gear zis no premium on : the silver dollar of 1846. : es J. J. W., Waterloo, Towa. —We return your. stamps : : marked as requested. : a All the remainder of oe jubilee ae of Por toga See have been Hosued The prices quoted — : What He Had Lost. Old Bullion—‘tAh, my boy,-I often long for the good old times.”’ Friend—‘‘That’s very strange. You are rich now, but in those old days you were an overworked, bare- footed plowboy on a farm, What had you then that you haven’t now?’? Old Bullion (sadly)—‘‘An appetite.’’ —— The Philanthropic Shoe Man. Trate Customer—‘‘Those shoes I bought for my boy last week are half worn out already, and J found a thick piece of pasteboard in the soles’ What have you to say to that?’’ Dealer—‘‘My dear sir, the pasteboard is put in to keep the feet from touching the ground when the leather wears out. You wouldn’t want your little boy to catch cold and die of consumption, would you?’’ Didn’t Get An Answer. ‘*Mather, I wisu you would buy me a pony,’’ said Johnnie. ‘*T haven’t got any money to buy a pony, my son. You should go to school regularly, study hard, and become a smart man, and some of these days when you grow up, you will have money of your own to buy ponies with.’? ‘*Then, I suppose, you didn’t study much when you were a boy like me, or else you would have money now to buy ponies with, wouldn’t you?’’ Breaking It Gently. A small boy hada dog that was rough, as most small boys’ dogs are, and a little girl who lived next door had a kitten, sly as all cats are. One day the boy came nonchalantly into the girl’s presence, and after some desultory conversation, he said: ‘“You know my dog Barea and your cat Darling?’’ ‘tVes,. Fo) ‘*Well, my dog had a piece of meat and he thought your cat was going to take it away from him.’’ ‘‘Thought !?’ exclaimed the wise girl. ‘‘ What makes you say that the dog thought? You know dogs don’t think, they instinct.’’ ‘*Well,’’? said the boy, ‘‘I don’t care whether he thought it or whether he merely instincted it, but any- how, he killed your cat!’’ —— Much Too Busy. Mrs. Smith—‘‘Mr. Smith asked me to call in and look at the negative of his photograph. Heisso busy that he cannot spare the time.’’ Photographer—‘‘Certainly, madam.’’ (Produces the negative.) Mrs. Smith—‘‘Ahem!—yes. Thisis Mr. Smith in the foreground, but who is that man over by the door?’? Photographer—‘‘That is Mr. Smith also, madam. He suddenly recollected that he had a business engagement just as I raised the cap. Pardon me, madam, if I say that I fear your husband is too busy a man to sit for a photograph.’’ “Those Who Laugh Last, Laugh Best.” ‘“‘Het hel’? ‘“Ow-w!?? mice bra © het?” 47S Hot hol? ~ Butler, — Official Editor Amateur Press : iN % IATEUR JOURNALI ah. ® NEWS NOTES \ < , Jf OF INTEREST TO THE YOUNG PUBLISHERS 1 AND AUTHORS -. OF AMERICA 1 "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 either 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 will closé Nevember Ist, 1897. EDITOR’S TABLE. The ‘‘Table’’ is in receipt of the following amateur “publications for September: ‘‘Leaves from the Press,’’ ‘(The Storyette’’? and ‘‘Bits and Chips.’’ Also the August number of ‘‘Facts and Fancies. —— — = “Leaves from the Press,’’ published by Aller & Co., Trenton, N. J., is issued with a poster cover of considerable merit. The artist, ‘‘Savage,’’ if not a professional, is certainly worthy to be classed as one. His design in the current ‘‘Leaves fram the Press’’ is exeellently drawn and very attractive. The contents of the paper are on a par with the cover. There are several half-tone illustrations, a column of editorial comment, a full page by Sprague William Chambers, the associate editor, a department on club notes by C. I. Geibel, the treasurer-elect of the U. A. P. A., and several other chatty departments conducted by R. Gerald Ballard, J. Fred Crosson, Maurice B. Lippin-~ eott and James G. Stickney. ‘¢The Storyette,’’ ‘‘Bits and Chips,’’ and ‘‘Facts and Fancies’? will be, reviewed next week. ~~ A new literary society has been formed in Harris- burg, Pa. It is called the ‘‘ Pivotal City Literary So- ciety,’’ and it’s object is the advancement of amateur journalism and the elevation of the U. A. P. A. The officers are G.-H. Gingrich, president; C. HE. Shaffner, vice-president; Ed. H. Weigel, secretary; T. H. Longenecker, treasurer; J. Frank Weigel, official edi- tor and C, A. Jeffries, librarian. = tc The local: press club of. the U: A. P. A.—The . Amateur Press Club of New York City—held its regu- lar meeting at the residence of Mr. William J. 8. Dineen, 1202 Halsey street, Brooklyn, on Sunday, Oc- tober 8. The business accomplished was as follows: The constitution and by-laws submitted by the com- mittee were passed. The members were photographed, and the election, a very spirited affair, came off very satisfactorily to all. The officers elected were as fol- lows: President, Walter S. Reavely; first vice-presi- dent, Charles W. Heins; second vice-president, Miss -Lillian Howard;.secretary, F. Arthur Atkinson; treas- -urer, Andrew Howard, Jr.; trustees, William Tobias chairman; Miss Belte Arnott, Miss Leah Higenbothen; chief of reviews, William J. S. Dineen, Jr. ; official editor, Robert R. Gregory. A committee was appointed to select a hall for the regular monthly - meeting of the club, and a committee was also ap- ~ pointed to attend to the club pin. | : Residents of Greater New York, with literary tastes, 556 Third avenue, New York City. ~ ey ; : Robert R. Gregory, are cordially invited to correspond with the secretary, sed = tees is a PISS S liane Ss Club of New York City. COPY HOOK. Did you ever stop to consider how many people it takes to get out a modern newspaper? The force of one of the big New York dailies exceed 600 employees This includes all the departments and it means a weekly pay-roll of six figures. : : Persons who think journalistic writers are poorl paid for their labor are not altogether correct. An editorial writer on a leading metropolitan daily earns annually at least $15,000. He receives $0,000 as edi- torial writer, an equal amount as a member of the staff of asmagazine, and the balance as correspondent of a London paper and from oddsand ends picked up as_ an ‘‘occasional contributor.’’ : : There isa certain temptation to begin newspaper work, because the newspaper worker gets some pay from the start, if he does anything. If he enters a ~ law office, he may. have to pay for the privilege of doing work in that office. The difference is seductive, but where does it lead? A reporter who gets $20 a week regularly is doing fairly -well, though a great many reporters get a good deal more than this. But the tendency, unless a man has a special genius for reporting and a unique originality and picturesqueness of style, is to keep him at about $20. a Some writers do not seem to understand that while editors object strenuously to rolled manuscript, they have no objections to the form of manuscripts neatly folded. Rolled MSS are objectionable because of the ‘‘eurl?’ in the paper, which never gets out when. it is once in, and makes them so abominably hard to read, Creases in a manuscript do not injure it in any way, and asmall manuscript may better be sent folded than flat. There is no advantage gained by paying letter postage on p2steboard. ‘ : ae _ The Kin Pan, of Pekin, is the oldest newspaper in the world. The vast Empire of China is so truly a dark continent to us, and we judge all her people by the few specimens we see in our midst, that, though statisticians and historians tell us that the inhabitants of the Celestial Empire are educated and intelligent, to the average thinker the assertion seems an- impossi- — bility. And yet it is an established and acknowledged fact that for over a thousand years China has pub-. lished.a newspaper. : : = The Kin Pan was first published as a monthly; then, -as its circulation increased, the intelligence of its readers enlarged and the knowledge of reading spread, ~ it became necessary to issue weekly editions, which was done in 1861, About the beginning of the present century its increasing circulation demanded a daily edition, and since then it has been a daily paper. Within the last decade it has published three editions daily in different colors, the early morning edition be- ing in yellow, the second in white and the last in 960 Still Young. Old Resident—‘‘ Yes, sir, I’m eighty years old, and walked thirty miles t’other day. Kin you do that?’’ Average Man—‘‘N-o, not yet. I’m only forty.’’ Had Seen Him. English Girl (to accepted lover)—‘‘My dear, I think you should see my father.’’ American Youth—‘‘Oh, I’ve seen him several times. He looks very respectable.’’ Scientific Parent (on a stroll)—‘‘You see out there in the street, my son, a simple illustration of a prin- ciple in mechanics. The man with that cart pushes it in front of him. Can you guess why? Probably not. I will ask him. Note his answer, my son.”’ (To Pedler)——‘‘My good man, why.do you push that cart instead of pulling it?” : Pedlar—‘‘Cause I ain’t a hoss.”’ CONSUMPTION CURED. An old physician, retired from practice, had placed in his hands by an East India missionary the formula of a simple vegetable remedy for the speedy and permanent eure of Consumption, Bronchitis, Catarrh, Asthma and all Throat and Lung Affections, also a positive and radical cure for Nervous Debility and all Nervous Complaints. Having tested its wonderful curative powers in thousands of eases, and desiring to relieve human suffering, I will send, free of charge to all who wish it, this recipe, in Ger- man, French or English, with full directions for prepar- ing and using. Sent by mail, by addressing with stamp, Naming this paper. W. A. NOYES, 820 Powers’ Block, Ro- chester, N. Y. War Heroes LIFE AND MILITARY SERVICES Gen’Is Grant, Sherman, Sheridan. These books are worthy a place in every household and should be in every library. They are octavo size, over 200 pages eae handsomely bound in an attractive illumi- nated cover in which is reproduced by a new process the latest photograph of the heroes. Eac ee, « book complete in < itself. When or- dering please stat which book you desire. Liberal discounts to agents: It will only be necessary to show the books ==! to secure orders as | aN they are the best {} I R and most reasons ['* able ever publish- s ed for the price. Fo: sale by all news- dealers or sent post-paid by the publishers ) a2 25 GENTS EAGH A: Adress MILAG SERIES, 232. William St., P. O. Box 1173. New York City. WRESTLING. History tells us that wrestling was the first form of athletic pastime. Without doubt, it gives strength and firmness, combine q with quickness and pliability, to the limbs, vigor to the body coolness and discrimination to the head and elasticity to the tem? per, the whole forming an energetic combination of the greatest power to _be found in man. The book is entitled PRorEssorR MULDOON’S WRESTLING. — It is fully illustrated, and will be sent postpaid on receipt of ten cents. Address MANUAZ LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York. AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHY. Many people imagine that a photographer’s camera is a difficult machine to handle, and that the work is dirty and disagreeable. All this isa mistake. Photography is a clean, light, and pleasant ac- comiplishment, 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 pictures, but pictures that there is everywhere a demand for at remunerative prices. A complete guide to this fascinating art, entitled AMATEUR MANUAL OF PHOTOGRAIWY will he sent on receipt of ten cents. MANUAL LIBRARY, 25 Rose street, New York. ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY. CHELTENHAM MILITARY ACADEMY. On the summit of the Chelten Hills, near Philadelphia. Pennsylvania’s leading college-prepaartory boarding-school under the military system. 7o cadets; io resident in- structors. Special termsto U S A and U.S. N. officers. Hlustrated catalogue. JOHN: C2 RICE, Ph.D:. Prin. -Ogontz, Pa. Mention Army and Navy Weekly. 9 AY'S WORK. IER « * Boys and Girls can get a Nickel-Plated Watch, also a Chain and Charm for selling B) 13¢ doz. Packages of Bluine at 10 cents each. / Send your full address by return mail and Sy ~we.will forward the Bluine, post-paid, and : : a large Premium List. No money required. BLUINE CoO., Box 96, Concord Junction, Mass. Mention Army and Navy Weekly. Firmy § Davy Weekly BINDERS. This binder will keep your papers always.clean and smooth. No more missing numbers... Handy to refer to and ornamental as well as useful. Sent post-paid to any address on réceipt of price, fifty cents. Address, STREET & SMITH, NEW YORK CITY. Be sure to use * Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup” for your chlidren MOTH EA while Teething. 25 cents a bottle Mention Army and Navy Weekly. we SRO IO EONS OO OOOO Army and Navy Weekly. ei. @) Ammen 48 LARGE MAGAZINE PAGES. =a @ a= y : Three Serial Stories by the best Writers. Two Complete Naval and Military Stories. Sketches, Special Articles, Departments. ALT, FOR FIVE CENTS. BOOB G2 684000787 SERN SASSO OOOO LIST OF STORIES ALREADY PUBLISHED. No. 10. A Naval Academy Hazing; or, Clif Faraday’s Winning Trick. Mark Mallory’s Battle; or Yearling. . A West Point Combine; or, Mark Mallory’s New Allies. Clif Faraday’s Expedient; or, the Trial of the Crimson Spot. . The End of the Feud; or, Clif Faraday’s Generous Revenge. Mark Mallory’s Danger; or, In the Shadow of Dismissal. Xe . Mark Mallory at West Point. Clifford Faraday’s Ambition. A Tale of a Naval Sham Battle. . Winning a Naval Appointment; or, Clif Faraday’s Victory. : Mark Mallory’s Heroism; or, First Steps Toward West Point. . The Rival Candidates; or, Mark’s Fight for a Military Cadetship. Clif Faraday’s Endurance; or, Preparing for the Naval Academy. a Plebe Against ? OPPO . Passing the Examinations; or, Clif Faraday’s Success. Mark Mallory’s Stratagem; or, Hazing the Hazers. . In West Point at Last; or, Mark Mallory’s . Mark Mallory’s Feat; or, Making Friends of Enemies, Clif Faraday’s Raid; or, Plebe Fun and Triumphs. . An Enemy’s Blow; or, Clif Faraday in Peril. Mark Mallory in Camp; or, Hazing the Triumph. Clif Faraday’s Generosity; or, Pleading an Enemy’s Cause. Practical Joke. - . A Naval Plebe’s Experience; or, Clif Faraday Clif Faraday’s Escape; or, Foiling a Daring at Annapolis. Plot. ; ‘ j Mark Mallory’s Ghum; or, The Trials of a . A Practice Ship Frolic; or, How Clif Faraday ANEGe Pine Cadet Outwitted the Enemy. i ae Mark Mallory’s Celebration; or, A Fourth of 7. Friends and Foes at West Point; or, Mark i West Poi Trey perme gy galiance. Mab Mellor Guard: or, Deviling a West Clif Faraday’s Forbearance; or, The Struggle ; Point Ce “ ek 8 ste in the Santee’s Hold. y: : : ; Clif Faraday, Hero; or, A Risk for a Friend. 8. Settling a Score; or, Clif Faraday’s Gallant . An Ocean Mystery; ot, Clif Faraday’s Strange Fight. : Adventure. Mark Mallory’s Honor; or, A West Point Mark Mallory’s Peril; or, A Test of Friend- Mystery. i 9. Fun and Frolics at West Point; or, Mark Mallory’s Clever Rescue. termination. Clif Faraday’s Deftance; or, Breaking a Clif Faraday’s Troupe; or, An Entertainment Cadet Rule. at Sea. Yearlings. . A West Point Comedy; or, Mark Mallory’s SE OVOVONONONS) Xe 2. SOS OS >? . > bes F kes oP % Oe OES 3 = RAMANA ZS - S Te Ox ship. A West Point Hop; or, Mark Mallory’s De- oN BACK NUMBERS ALWAYS ON HAND. WCVB OVVZATCTBU Address Army and Navy Weekly, 238 William St. «STREET & SMITH, New York City. SESE ORO ONG 0 eG OOS NO ORONO SOONG = $ Ra OXOXS) XK OX ae The Army a= Navy Weekly | - THE MONARCH OF - , e “et JUVENILE PUBLICATIONS 1% a LIST OF CONTRIBUTORS. During the coming fall and winter, serials, complete stories and sketches from the pens of the following well-known and popular authors will be published in THE ARMY AND NAVY WEEKLY: HORATIO. ALGER, Fr. Author of ‘‘The $500 Check,’ etc. WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON, Author of “‘The Legacy of Peril,” ‘‘In Barracks and Wigwam,” etc. LIEUT. FREDERICK GARRISON, U.S. A. Author of the popular West Point series now running in THE ArRMy AND Navy WEEKLY. BNSIGN CLARKE FILCH. 2 WU: SON. Author of the fascinating stories of Naval Academy life, now being issued in this publi- cation. ENRIQUE H. LEWIS, Author of ‘‘The Nameless Story,’ ‘Yankee Boys in Japan,”’ etc. MATTHEW WHITE, Fr. Author of ‘‘The Tour of a Private Car,” etc. etc, IEC), EFONEL. LOUNSBERRY, Author of the famous ‘‘Kit Carey” Series, etc., ete. ARTHUR SEW ALL, Author of the well-known ‘‘Gay Dashleigh’’ series,-and editor of THe Army And Navy WEEKLY. EDIM-ARD -S ELLIS, A charming writer of juvenile stories, whose name is a household word throughout. the United States. GEORGE H. COOMER, Author of ‘‘Boys in the Forecastle,’ ended in this publication. ’ recently CAP] AIN.. C2 B.. ASHLEX, Author of ‘‘Gilbert the Trapper,’ the con- . cluding chapters of which were published in No. 7, ARMY AND Navy WEEKLY. =ALSO— FRANK _H. CONVERSE, BROOKS McCORMACK, And a number of other experienced writers of interesting fiction. SPECIAL FEATURES. Complete Naval and Military Cadet Stories; New and Interesting Depart- ments; Illustrated Articles on the West Point and Annapolis Academies; Short Stories, Sketches, etc. & & & &* & STREET & SMITH, (238 William Street, New York City. Se Ae a